Master and Slave 2

Twink Cuts Off Own Balls

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.

Becoming An Unwilling Piss Slave

 

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.

Master and Slave

Starting Castration By Placing Castration Bands

My new slave seemed a wonder. He’d been mine for about six months and he seemed just about perfect. When I first got him, he was not in shape, but after two or three months of the strenuous workouts I put him through, he firmed up and started looking really good. One thing I found out: always break a slave in the very first day. With him, after first explaining that he should expect this for disobeying me, I stripped him down, tied him up and gave him a thorough whipping. I whipped him until both my arms were tired, then I squeezed his balls so hard he passed out. When he woke up, I bathed him, rubbed antibiotic ointment into his whip marks and let him get what sleep he could. After that, he was very obedient. Sexually, I treated him as the girl – he was never allowed to do anything but accept my juice as I presented it to him. He was taught to suck and fuck in all positions. Sometimes, I would whip him and then fuck him. Other times, if I felt he hadn’t been quite enthusiastic enough, I would whip him after fucking him. Several times I whipped him thoroughly for allowing his teeth to touch my cock while he was sucking me off. After a few weeks of hard discipline, he knew exactly what was expected of him and performed all his duties eagerly. In fact, before too long, he would occasionally ask to be whipped. From time to time, I would cut off the circulation to his balls by wrapping a cloth around his scrotum and tying a strand of wire around the cloth. The cloth kept the wire from slicing into his skin and allowed me to cut off the blood supply without much pain. At first, I would leave the tourniquet on for fifteen minutes or so, until his sac turned pale blue. Over a few months, I left it on longer and longer, extending the time to three quarters of an hour, after which his sac became numb. The longest I kept him tied off was two hours. The one time I did that, he complained of a headache that lasted the entire next day. These were just play sessions. No harm was done to his balls and they stayed the same size. My slave was very afraid of castration. The few times I mentioned it as a way of making him better adjust to his role he became extremely upset and begged me never to do such a thing to him. Naturally, I told him that his remaining intact depended on how obedient he was. It could never be his decision. After all, I was the master.

We had been living together for a while and I was satisfied with his performance. One Saturday, I went out in the early afternoon to run some errands. I instructed him to clean the apartment and wait for my return that evening. About two hours later I came up in the service elevator and let myself in through the kitchen door, intending to drop off my purchases and finish up my errands. My ears picked up the sounds of active sex from the bedroom down the hall. I walked quickly along the thickly carpeted hallway to the bedroom. In the hall was a toolkit and some coaxial cable. Through the half open door, I saw my slave on the bed with his butt in the air, taking the cable installer’s long black dick up his butt. I could see my slave’s erection jutting out under him. He was wiggling his ass and begging for more. His face was to the wall away from me. The cable installer was hunched over him, fucking him fast and deep. I watched for a short time until my slave’s seed jetted out over the towel he had place under himself on the bed. I walked back into the kitchen. Soon I heard them kissing. Then the hall door opened and closed. My slave went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I unpacked and put away the groceries, allowing my anger to build slowly. Faithless slave! In this age of the plague I had seen him having unprotected sex with a stranger. For this he would be punished. And banished.

While he was showering and douching, I called a slave dealer who was known to take disobedient slaves off masters’ hands for a reasonable fee. How much fee depended on whether the slave was healthy. Healthy slaves’ organs could be sold off. Ill ones, I had been told, were sent to mines in foreign countries where they were worked to death. A brief discussion concluded our dealings. I told him the slave might be ill, but that it was too soon to tell. He offered the lower price, explaining that to keep the slave until it could be tested reliably was excessively expensive. When he asked if the slave were a eunuch, I said “Yes.” Not true at the moment, but soon, very soon. We agreed on a price. I gave the dealer my address and told him at what time that night to come up from the garage in the service elevator to my floor and that I would let him in.

My slave emerged from the bathroom, clean and pink from the hot shower and a brisk toweling off. He seemed delighted to see me. I ordered him into the bedroom. There was no trace of his previous activities. He had cleaned up well. I went to the closet and took out my portable punishment table. “Set up the table,” I ordered. “Master, why? I’ll do anything you ask. I can satisfy you better if I’m not bound up.” “Shut up, slave. Do as I say. Now!” He proceeded to set up the table. It’s solid oak, and once the legs are down and the cross braces in place, it’s sturdy as a solid piece of wood. The main part is for the torso, and there’s a hinged wing with adjustable leg restraints. There are neck, shoulder, wrist, abdomen and hip straps to hold the slave’s upper body in place. There’s hole cut out for his face to go into when the neck strap is tight. His legs go over the hinged wing, which can be adjusted from straight out from the body of the table to down at a right angle pointing toward the floor. The wing has restraints for the thighs, calves and ankles. These can be moved closer to or further from the center of the wing, depending on how far you want the slave’s legs spread during his punishment session. I fastened him to the upper portion of the table with the wrist, neck, and chest straps. Reaching down, I lifted his hips with one hand and tucked his prick up under his pubic hair, then released his hips and cinched the hip restraint tight, imprisoning his prick between the table and his body. His balls hung free. Next, I strapped his legs in, with the restraints far enough apart that his legs made a “V” with his balls hanging down between. Now he was ready.

Like a typically unruly slave, he spoke. “Master, what are you going to do? I can’t move my butt if you fuck me, and I know you like that.” I closed the bedroom door so no sound could escape. “Fuck you?” I asked. He became silent for a moment. “W what are you g going to do?” he stuttered. I walked around and tilted the table up so that I could look at his face. “Subhuman pig,” I began, “You are just an animal for me to do with as I wish. I saw you being fucked earlier. You are not allowed to be fucked without my permission. I certainly would not give you permission to engage in unprotected fucking with a cable installer, pig of a slave!” He looked at me with surprise that gave way to fear. “Slave, you, in this time of plague, decided to endanger your health and, had I not known about it, mine as well! You are a pig and I will castrate you just as a pig is castrated.” He blinked as my words sank in. Whatever words of protest he had died on his lips. I walked around behind him ready to start work. Then he begged and pleaded, crying, swearing he would never do it again, just, please, please one more chance. I said nothing. With a hair dryer, I heated his scrotum until his balls hung as far from his body as possible. By then he was crying, sobbing. After putting on my surgical gloves, I painted his scrotum with disinfectant and warmed it again to keep his balls hanging away from his body. I took a piece of strong wire, rinsed it in disinfectant and tied it around his scrotum as close to his body as possible, then pulled it as tight as I could. He cried out. Next, I took a small scalpel and made two cuts, each from just above one of his balls to just below it, exactly as one castrates a pig. He screamed in pain. I slowly expressed each ball through its cut so that it hung completely outside his sac. Using two clamps, I closed off the cords connecting each ball to his body. As each clamp bit down, he gasped. With the scalpel, I severed the cord connecting his right testicle. It fell to the floor. I listened with amusement to his pleading: “Oh please master, leave me with one ball. I couldn’t stand being a eunuch. Have mercy, master. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never do anything like that again.” A quick swipe with the scalpel and the job was complete. He screamed and cried as I cauterized the ends of the cords, removed the clamps, tested for bleeders and glued the cuts in his sac back together. It had taken eight minutes to cleanse him of his maleness. I took his freshly severed balls around and dangled them by their cords in front of his face. At the sight of them he screamed and passed out.

The newly-made eunuch pig was sobbing again when I let the dealer in, so I gagged him. The dealer gave him a shot to knock him out and together we released his unconscious body from the punishment table and put it into a trunk. I took the dealer’s cash and wished him luck as he and the trunk containing my former slave began their descent into the garage and his waiting truck. “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” I thought as I dropped the testicles into the garbage disposal. I resolved to nut my next slave at the very first opportunity.

A Slave Fantasy

Gay Slave in Full Chains and Collar

My past has been wiped out and there is only the present. The future is something i never think about – it is enough that i am alive in the here and now. And that present has a purity and a simplicity that my past never had. i am a slave. i do what i am told. i accept what happens to me. i am content.

i don’t know where i am, whether in a city or in the country as it was part of the contract i agreed to that i would not know where i was going, or who i was going to. i had been selected on the basis of the emails and photographs i had submitted to the agency and told to go to a certain place, at a certain time and wait. It was an hour’s train journey from the town where i had lived, and then a walk of about a mile until i reached the designated spot, a quiet crossroads down a country lane. The instructions had been specific – no possessions other than the clothes i had been directed to wear (jeans, tee-shirt, sneakers, no coat or jacket even though it was winter and rain was falling on me). No watch, either, so i had no idea if i was early or late. Shivering with apprehension so intense that i did not notice that i was cold and wet, i waited for my life to change…

And what a change! i am a slave to a Leather Master who keeps me in chains in a cage in a dungeon and uses me for his sexual pleasure whenever he feels like it.

The first thing he did to me when i arrived was to impress upon me that i am a slave and must never, even for a second, forget this fact. So he shaved my body totally, head, eyebrows, chest, groin, everything; and it is one of my duties as his slave to keep this body in a state of total hairlessness as a constant reminder of my state of slavery.

Then he made sure that, by chaining me with heavy fetters, every movement would remind me that i am a slave. A heavy metal slave collar was welded around my neck, with heavy chains running to metal wrist and ankle restraints, also welded. A heavy ball collar is welded round my balls, pushing them painfully downwards and allowing him to grab them and twist them as a way of controlling me. Apart from these heavy chains i am naked, allowing my Master access to my body at any time. i am trained to present myself to him, to offer up my body to him when he desires it.

i am kept chained to the wall and sl**p on the floor of the cage. The cage is too small for me to do anything other than kneel in it or lie down if i am curled up. At first i had difficulty in sl**ping as the fetters would cut into me if i tried to move too much and the chain from the collar around my neck to the wall is too short to permit much movement. But i have become accustomed to it and i feel safe and secure, like a dog that accepts its new home without question. i eat and drink from a dog bowl on the floor. i am not permitted to eat with my hands but must stick my face into the bowl like a dog.

my nipples and cock have been pierced and rings inserted so that i can be chained in any number of painful and uncomfortable positions when he decides to punish me and discipline me. He also pierced my nose and inserted a ring as a further exercise in humiliation. He says it will serve to remind me that i am a pig slave. Ominous words at the time…. The piercings have not yet healed fully, so that any punishment my Master chooses to inflict on my nipples is more intensely painful as a result.

As a slave, i have no rights whatsoever but must accept that i am a piece of property, owned completely by my Master, to be used in any way he sees fit. i must obey all commands and orders without hesitation, without question; it is enough that he wishes it, no matter what it may be. He can punish me and discipline me whether i have done anything to deserve it or not – it is a high honour that my Master should deign to whip my worthless body or grant me permission to worship his tall leather boots, the symbol of his dominance and Mastery.

my only permitted response to humiliation, degradation, abuse and punishment is one of extreme gratitude to my Master. If i should cry out at any time or be slow in thanking him for abusing me, then i know that i shall be punished even more severely.

i have been systematically and thoroughly trained to serve as his sex slave and i am fully conscious of the honour bestowed on me. my slave training has been severe but i have emerged as a real bootslave, a dogslave, a pig slave, grateful to be the property of such a dominant Master.

When he enters the dungeon, i have been trained immediately to get to my knees, bow my head and wait in a respectful and subservient position for him to unlock my cage. When he has done this, i crawl towards him, begging for permission to lick his boots. He particularly likes to see his slave grovel at his boots. i am often gagged so that i cannot say anything but if i am not then i am only permitted to beg for more punishment, abuse, and humiliation, and especially for the high honour of licking his boots and cleaning them with my tongue.

All utterances begin and end with the word “SIR” or “MASTER”. i am not permitted to use the word “i” but must describe myself in the lowest terms possible as in “SIR, please allow this useless piece of slave shit to lick the soles of your boots, SIR” or “MASTER, this dog turd begs you to piss on it, MASTER”. my tongue is not allowed to touch his boot leather until he gives the command and then i must lick his boots with a proper show of enthusiasm and respect. All my slave training is conducted at boot level, and i am not allowed to stand in his presence unless he is chaining me upright for a heavy whipping.

He wears full leather at all times with a leather peaked cap pulled down low on his brow, so that i can scarcely see his face. In any case, i am not permitted to look at him but must keep my eyes lowered in his presence. He wears skintight leather jeans or sometimes leather breeches with a broad uniform stripe running down the side. As a special favour i am occasionally permitted to run my tongue over his firm leather encased legs and thighs; and sometimes even over his bulging leather crotch, before unzipping the bulge with my teeth and working his cock into my mouth and down my throat.
But his tall black leather boots are my main concern and i spend hours not just licking them but cleaning them thoroughly with my tongue. He will command me to start with the soles. No position reminds me of my status as a slave more than this – i am lying flat on my back while my Master stands above me, one boot raised and pressing on my face while my tongue works on the rough leather sole as it grinds down on me. Then i work upwards, around the rims, over the smooth steel toecaps and up the long expanse covering his calves, sometimes permitted to caress the boots with my hands as i lick them. If he is wearing his hobnailed boots then i know i am in for a hard time -if i do not lick them with enough devotion or attention to detail then he will aim a few hard kicks at my useless body. And he will press down hard on my neck with one boot, grinding the hob nails into my flesh while i service the boot leather of the other boot.

He has a large collection of whips, belts, paddles and crops hanging from the walls of the dungeon and, selecting one, he whips me while i lick his boots. Sometimes he kicks me round the dungeon with his boots while he lays into me with his leather belt. i am ordered to keep trying to lick his boots while he does this. He delights in turning me into a grovelling, bootlicking slave, begging for ever more humiliation, degradation and abuse.

Sometimes he punishes me by locking me in a heavy iron head cage, hanging from a chain in the ceiling of the dungeon. He will crank it up so that i have to stand on tiptoes, my arms and legs will be chained spread-eagled, and he will leave me like that for hours until my muscles ache. Then he will take a whip to my naked back and arse, making me count the strokes and thank him for whipping me after each one.

Whipping a slave excites him more than anything else and when he has finally finished whipping me, he will usually drop the whip and f***e his huge Master’s cock up my arse and fuck me roughly, his hand coming through the metal of the headcage and covering my mouth, forcing his fingers down my throat.

When he has shot his load up my arse, he will pull out, unfasten me from my position, open a door at the front of my head cage, slap me down to waist level and make me clean his dripping Master’s cock with my tongue. Often his cock will harden again while i am licking it clean and he will stick it down my throat, making me suck it hard until he shoots another load. Then i have to clean his Master’s cock thoroughly with my tongue. When a slave is fully submissive, i have discovered, then there is nothing that it will not do no matter how revolting it might have been to its former self. You might say i have been mesmerised to the extent that His desire is quite simply reason enough.

One day he entered the dungeon, chained me firmly to the ground so that i couldn’t move, and buckled a leather plugged gag around my head, filling my mouth so that i couldn’t cry out. Then he lit a fire in a metal brazier and stuck a branding iron into it. i knew what was going to happen to me but was powerless to do anything about it. i simply had to wait in an agony of expectation while the iron reached the right temperature. Then, pulling it out of the fire, he planted it firmly on my arse and branded me with the word ‘slave’ so that all who use me will know what i am. Then, having marked me permanently as a slave, he invited other Leather Masters to his dungeon.

i had to crawl to the door of the dungeon and lie in front of it. When each Leather Master entered, he would use my useless slave body as a boot cleaner, wiping the tall boots on my flesh. Then he would stick his boots in front of my face and order me to kiss them as a sign of my respect. When five tall Masters, some in full leather, the others in full rubber, had gathered, he told them that i am a trained bootslave. Then, slapping me hard across my face, he ordered me to serve them.

Crawling from one to another, servicing their boots, i was used as a boot wipe and boot rest. Some of them were smoking and at a snap of the fingers i would crawl over and open my mouth so that it could be used as an ashtray. They took it in turns to fuck me, slapping me and verbally abusing me as they did so, calling me a worthless piece of slave shit, a dog turd. They gobbed in my face and made me rub it in. Some would pull me up by my collar and order me to lick the snot from their noses; or they would shoot snot into my open mouth.

The evening was an orgy of abuse and humiliation for me, as i desperately tried my best to carry out all the orders i was given by these dominant Masters. Finally, when they had gone, my Master dragged me to my slave cage, kicked me in and, as usual, chained me to the wall and left me lying, my body covered in welts from the whipping i had received. The evening ended as it always does – he walked to the gate of the cage and i crawled over and stuck my tongue through the bars, whimpering like a dog to show how much i wanted to service his boots. As i licked his boots, he jacked off over me, finally leaving me lying in my degradation.

A FANTASY REVEALED

My middle was once pounding because the airplane taxied to the gate. It wouldn’t be very log till I used to be absolutely at his mercy and the second one ideas had been looming massive in my thoughts.  Now not that I had any selection however to observe thru.  I had no go back price ticket and too little cash to even get out of town at this level.  But even so, he had sufficient humiliating footage of me that will be posted in every single place the web if I attempted to steer clear of the inevitable.  I used to be going to be locked up and below his whole regulate for the following 3 days.

I used to be each excited and scared and I had no method of understanding what was once actually in retailer for me.  Fantasies had been flying round my head as I grabbed by means of small backpack from the overhead bin and walked down the jetway into the terminal.

It was once actual now as my first job was once to hand.  I ended within the first males’s room and headed again to the furthest stall.  I dug into the pack for the small, vinyl pouch and became my mobile phone again on.  I took an image of the plastic lock that held the zipper closed and texted it to him.  He now knew that I used to be within the airport and the clock had began ticking for me.

The lock was once more difficult to damage than I believed, however sooner or later I used to be in a position to get the pouch open.  I already knew what was once inside of – a CB600 quick chastity cage and a lock and not using a key – this a lot he had advised me.  There have been most effective the desired items, no further cock rings or spacers, and one merchandise that I hadn’t been anticipating – the small spiked piece that I’ve noticed known as the gates of intrigue.  The spikes have compatibility into the spacer portion of the cock ring so as to add further safety from pulling out and upload a continuing, uninteresting ache – or so I’ve heard, as I’ve by no means used them earlier than.

He had despatched the pouch with the airline price ticket and the backpack.  He had restricted me to 25 greenbacks in money and my motive force’s license – no pockets or bank cards.  And no different garments than what I used to be dressed in.  The backpack was once as regards to empty, however hadn’t raised any eyebrows on the safety checkpoint.  It have been an extended, dull flight as I used to be allowed not anything to learn, no ipad, or movies to look at – he even had despatched me a pre-paid cell phone to make use of at the go back and forth.  Even though it had a digital camera, it didn’t have any “smartphone” options in any respect and no mp3 capacity.

Fortunately, he had positioned a small, pattern sized tube of lube within the pouch as my dick was once getting exhausting and I used to be suffering to get the cock cage locked on.  My dick was once lovely small and the “quick” model of the CB6000 was once the one chastity cage that stored me from getting exhausting.

The little spikes at the gates of intrigue had been going to be extra uncomfortable than I’d have guessed.  They dug into the bottom of my dick which was once swollen from looking to get erect.  When I used to be limp they most probably wouldn’t be painful, however I’d at all times know they had been there.  Time beyond regulation, then again, I’m positive they’d change into extra painful than I was hoping.

I snapped the lock close at the chastity cage and texted any other image to him appearing it locked in position.  As I used to be pulling up my denims the text-received ping sounded on my telephone.  It was once from him (as I knew it will be).  It was once quick”

 

“On my own in a bizarre the town, locked up, and utterly fucking screwed – aren’t you?”

 

The remainder of the message was once directions on which teach to take into town after which which bus line to get closest to his rental.  He had already advised me that I’d be given most effective the naked minimal of data that I would wish.  After I had arrived within the town, I used to be to not keep in touch with him or discuss to him until ordered to take action.  The foundations have been agreed to and there can be penalties for disobeying them.

It was once an extended stroll to the teach and value me $10 of the remainder $20 I had on me.  A bottle of water and a bag of chips had price me $five within the airport as I waited for the airplane.  I used to be too frightened to benefit from the attractions as we clacked alongside into town.  The nearer the teach were given to the station, the extra actual all of it turned into for me.  I had 10 greenbacks left, knew nobody on this town, and had no bank cards to pay for anything else.  I used to be already absolutely dependent upon him and I hadn’t even met him but.

I needed to ask instructions a number of instances earlier than I discovered the correct bus prevent.  The journey was once an extended one and I virtually overlooked the proper prevent.  I used to be day dreaming about what was once to return and the cock-cage and issues of intrigue had been inflicting me quite a lot of discomfort.

I was hoping off the bus simply earlier than the doorways closed and attempted to get my bearings.  I used to be disoriented however in spite of everything noticed the move side road that he lived on.  Now it was once a question of strolling a couple of blocks and discovering his development.  As he advised me to do, I despatched a textual content letting him know the place I used to be and he texted again the development’s cope with.

This was once the primary time that I had a bodily cope with of his location.  It dawned on me that I used to be most probably nuts for doing all of this.  I had by no means met this man in particular person and I most effective knew him from online chats, telephone calls, and Skype chats.  I used to be violating each rule of “secure play,” however this is why it was once so damned thrilling.  Since I had no thought the place he in reality lived within the town till I obtained his remaining textual content, nobody knew the place precisely the place I used to be going to be for the following few days.  If one thing went amiss, there wouldn’t be someone with any thought the place to begin searching for me.  My dick struggled to get exhausting as I considered that truth and I ended in my tracks from the ache of the spikes.  The ones spikes had been going to be way more painful than I had idea.

I discovered the cope with that he had given me.  It was once a pleasing 3 tale brick development on a quiet side road.  Nightfall was once simply beginning to settle at the town and the development was once forged in shadow.  It seemed ominous to me because it was once going to be my jail very quickly.

The mobile phone vibrated and I checked the textual content:

 

“I’ll buzz you in.”

 

He should were observing from a window

 

“Condo B2.  That’s within the decrease degree.  Stairs to the correct facet of the foyer.”

 

I wasn’t somewhat to the door after I heard the digital lock buzz it open, so I needed to rush to tug it open earlier than it will relock.

 

“The door to the apt will likely be open.  Come inside of as we’ve got mentioned and get undressed.  The foot locker within the corridor may have the entirety you’re going to be dressed in.  Take the entirety out, the entirety you may have with you within the locker, and lock it.  As soon as you’re dressed in what has been set-out for you, kneel and wait.”

 

I’ve by no means been in a position to textual content that rapid, however already knew the principles from his earlier directions.  This was once my remaining probability to again out. I’m positive I may get involved with somebody again house that might get me cash so I may get again.  Would have some explaining to do, however a minimum of I’d be house.  Then the photographs popped into my thoughts.  Those he had and was once going to publish if I didn’t do the entirety he ordered me to do.  He had get right of entry to to all of my websites and would have them up in mins and I’d haven’t any strategy to take them down earlier than they had been noticed (and reposted.)

I slowly made my method down the steps and located myself status in entrance of his door.  It was once moderately ajar.  I hesitated just a second then driven my method into the hallway, ultimate the door and attractive the locks.

The footlocker was once in simple sight.  A padlock was once at the ground subsequent to it.  There was once no sense in prolonging the inevitable, so I undressed and folded my garments well at the ground earlier than opening the locker.

The lights within the corridor was once dim, however I noticed the rubber swimsuit in an instant.  It became out to be a complete catsuit, zippers on the shoulders for access, zip from the crotch to the rear, built-in toes and gloves, and (the worst) an hooked up hood.  I wasn’t positive in regards to the rubber hood.  I favored the leather-based ones, evidently, however my enjoy with rubber ones was once restricted.  I imagined them to be sizzling and too confining.  Now not that it mattered now.  I’d be dressed in it in a couple of moments and it will stay on for all of the time I used to be right here.  That have been the agreed deal; anything else I used to be given to put on would no longer come off till I used to be freed after the 3rd day.

There was once no lube within the locker, so I actually needed to combat to get the swimsuit pulled as much as my shoulders.  The tightness across the crotch driven exhausting in opposition to the cock cage and made the spikes dig in even worse.  My dick was once, once more, looking to get erect and that aggregate introduced tears to my eyes.  I used to be in for a number of days of serious discomfort.

The gloves within the swimsuit made the entirety harder.  I pulled the previous few pieces out of the locker and tossed my garments and the backpack inside of earlier than locking it.  Now I had no get right of entry to to both the mobile phone or my ID.  There was once little or no that I may do to get assist if I attempted to go away now.

There have been a couple of small locks, a thick rubber collar, heavy, hinged handcuffs, and a collection of leg irons.  It was once evident that the swimsuit’s shoulder zippers had been made to fasten to the collar which, in flip, can be locked round my neck.  There can be no method out of the swimsuit with out the keys to these locks.  I hesitated, however then resigned myself to my destiny.  The hood was once placing from the entrance of the swimsuit and it was once most effective then that I spotted that it had just a mouth opening and nostril holes.  There have been no eye openings.  I used to be going to be totally blind as soon as the hood was once in position.  That scared me greater than anything else; however, it sounds as if, my dick idea it was once thrilling as I doubled over from its newest try to get exhausting.

I set the locks and collar on most sensible of the footlocker so I may in finding them simply and began to tug the hood up over my head.  As I had suspected it was once tighter than anything else that I had worn earlier than and perceived to shape a vacuum seal by the point it snapped into position round my head.  I may breathe simply sufficient, however I used to be already beginning to sweat and that will most effective worsen.

I fumbled round for the collar and struggled with it for a very long time earlier than I used to be in a position to get it locked in-place.  Getting the small locks onto the zipper pulls after which locked to the collar perceived to take an hour.  The gloves made it exhausting to make the advantageous actions essential, however they, too, had been locked in position.

I paused a second to believe my state of affairs.  I used to be now locked inside a rubber swimsuit and not using a strategy to get out.  It dawned on me that despite the fact that I had the keys, I doubt I may maneuver them with the gloves to unencumber the little padlocks.  What a dumb fuck I’m, I believed.  Right here I’m in an entire stranger’s rental, trapped inside of a rubber jail and blind.  It was once all an excessive amount of and I virtually screamed for assist.  However the one one that would listen me was once the only guy that will by no means let me out till the agreed 3 days had handed.  There was once no secure phrase.  I had agreed to let him regulate each side of my confinement for the following 3 days.

Deflated, I felt round for the leg irons and snapped them on.  I used to be cautious to not over tighten them and I attempted to be all ears to the truth that they weren’t double locked as I moved to a kneeling place.  The hinged cuffs had been tricky to fasten on in the back of my again, however I used to be in a position to sooner or later get them snapped on as smartly.  In order that was once that.  Even supposing I sought after to there was once now no method that I may even get out of his rental.  Any hint of freedom was once now long gone.  I used to be his to do with as he happy.

No less than he didn’t make me wait lengthy.  I used to be startled after I felt the gag press in opposition to my lips.  Without a selection I opened my mouth to a heavy, rubber, tube gag.  He pulled the straps tight and I heard the lock snap close.  It held my tongue down and my jaws open.  Even supposing I sought after to I wouldn’t be capable to do greater than moan.  He then proceeded to double lock the cuffs and and not using a phrase dragged me to my toes and led me additional into the rental.  He driven me to my knees and I may listen him rummaging round however, with out sight, had no thought what he was once doing.

I discovered quickly sufficient, regardless that, as he made me move slowly ahead till I used to be acutely aware of bars.  After some maneuvering I heard the door slam.  I used to be in a cage.  The sound of the padlock locking me in seemed like a gunshot to me.  It had simply long gone from unhealthy to worse.  I used to be trapped in such a lot of ways in which I couldn’t even believe some way out.  I used to be so deep at his mercy that I began to panic.  My respiring was once ragged and I used to be sweating extraordinarily within the swimsuit.  My eyes stung as sweat bumped into them and I began to thrash round and moan into the gag.

He let me combat for somewhat some time earlier than grabbing my hooded head during the bars and, in as few phrases as imaginable, telling me to forestall.  Running myself right into a lather was once most effective going to make it worse for me.  There was once no method I used to be going to be let loose of the cage or the restraints.  If I struggled anymore the 3 days would possibly grow to be 5 or extra.

He driven my head again exhausting and I may listen him stroll away.  It took a while, however I used to be in a position to chill out.  All I may call to mind was once the truth that I had carried out this solely to myself.

I driven him to provide me this chance.  I despatched him essentially the most embarrassing, bare, chastity caged, cock sucking footage that I may believe.  And I made the go back and forth right here below his regulations.  He would possibly grasp the keys, however there was once nobody else in charge however myself.

I spent lots of the subsequent 3 days in that cage.  Foods had been few and most commonly protein shakes.  He was once beneficiant with water, however that most effective supposed I needed to piss so much; one thing that he managed.  It was once exhausting to get used to pissing right into a bottle that he held whilst I used to be sitting within the cage.  He allowed me workout and, even though it felt just right to be out of the cage and in a position to stretch out, he made positive that I used to be driven exhausting.  Take a seat-ups, push-ups, operating in position, till I’d were dripping sweat if it wasn’t all trapped throughout the swimsuit.

I used to be gagged as a rule.  Once in a while with the cruel rubber tube gag, different instances with a small ball gag or a rubber penis gag.  I used to be no longer allowed to talk a phrase for all of the time I used to be locked up.  I knew that if I attempted, he would have put me in a punishment place.  One thing that he did that first day to turn me what would occur if I hesitated to obey.

The cage had a integrated head inventory within the entrance door.  With my head locked in position he used inflexible restraints to tug me legs and arms during the bars of the cage.  Sitting in that place temporarily turned into painful and my joints had been burning by the point I used to be launched.

My dick hardly attempted to get exhausting; the truth of my state of affairs trumped the sexual delusion.  However the spikes from the gates of intrigue endured to do their paintings.  I spent 3 days in expanding agony because the rubber swimsuit endured to push the spikes exhausting in opposition to the bottom of my dick.  In my thoughts’s eye all I may see was once my uncooked, crimson, and mangled dick.  I started to wonder whether it will live to tell the tale intact.

He spoke little except for when ordering me about.  I used to be left and not using a gag or handcuffs to sleep, however there wasn’t sufficient room within the cage to stretch out.  I sooner or later was once so drained that I handed out and woke up scared and perplexed till I remembered the place I used to be.  Time handed glacially sluggish.  I regretted getting myself into this example and I temporarily misplaced observe of time.  Quickly I started to imagine that the 3 days had come and long gone.  Was once he going to stay me as his prisoner without end?

When he had me move slowly out of the cage for the remaining time and I discovered myself kneeling at the hardwood ground of his hallway, I used to be virtually shaking with reduction.  {The handcuffs} had been got rid of, then the leg cuffs, after which he positioned a small key in my hand.

 

“That’s the important thing to the collar and the locks at the zipper pulls.  You are going to be loose to head once you unencumber them and take away that swimsuit.”

 

I in an instant panicked.  The locks had been so small that I may hardly ever really feel them during the gloves and my arms had been sore from being locked up.  I knew that I wouldn’t ever be capable to get the ones locks off myself.  I fumbled round with the important thing for a very long time looking to get it into one of the crucial locks.  It slipped out of my hand and I used to be not able to search out it at the ground.  The gloves had been too thick.  I slumped over and I felt him snatch my arm and pull it in the back of my again to reapply the hand cuffs.  I’d have struggled, however I used to be damaged.  He had me and there was once not anything that I may do about it.

He pulled me up and led me again into the rental the place I knew the cage awaited.  We stopped and he temporarily spun me round again into the hallway.  The cuffs had been unlocked and I felt him unencumber and take away the collar.  He pulled the shoulder zips open after which walked a couple of steps away.

 

“Your garments and the entirety you want to get house are within the footlocker.  Take that swimsuit off, step into the toilet in your left and bathe and blank up, then dress and depart.  Pull the rental door close in the back of you as I’m leaving now.  You are going to no longer see me earlier than you move.”

 

With that I heard the rental door slam.  I needed to combat to get the hood off and was once in an instant blinded by means of the dim mild.  It felt so just right to get it off!  By way of yanking and pulling on the swimsuit I sooner or later controlled to get the rattling factor off.  I reeked of rubber and sweat, however I used to be loose!  I discovered contemporary garments within the footlocker together with the backpack.  There was once a airplane price ticket, $50, and directions again to the airport.  I had only some hours to get there once I checked the time at the mobile phone within the pack.  As I stepped into the bathe I spotted that the cock cage was once nonetheless locked on, however the water felt so just right I figured I’d unencumber it as soon as I used to be wiped clean up.  The spikes had made visual marks and it was once rattling sore, however there didn’t seem to be any severe harm down there.

After I had dried off, I rummaged thru the entirety that he had left for me however there was once no key to the cock cage.  I did, then again, discover a notice within the pocket of the denims that mentioned that he would mail me the important thing and to experience the previous few days of being cock-locked!  Bastard!

I stepped out into the hallway considering I’d be capable to in finding one thing in his rental to chop it off.  However there was once any other locked door on the finish of the corridor which avoided me from getting access to the remainder of the rental.  Bastard!

I checked the time once more and learned that I had higher get going or I would possibly omit the flight.  Pulling the door close in the back of me I retraced my steps to the teach.  I stuck my breath as I watched the surroundings fly by means of on tips on how to the airport.

Then it hit me.  I felt completely bare with out that 2nd pores and skin of rubber hugging my each curve.  The restrictiveness of that swimsuit was once one thing that I hated in the beginning, however now I overlooked it extraordinarily.  For the primary time in days my dick struggled to lifestyles and I cringed from the ache.  However the ache jogged my memory of him and the way he had given me precisely what I had fantasied about for goodbye.

I by no means noticed him all of the time that he had me locked up.  I by no means uttered a phrase to him all of the time.  However now I owed him a debt of gratitude for containing me prisoner.  For locking me in that swimsuit.

Now I most effective questioned how lengthy it will be earlier than I could possibly do it once more!