This is the next chapter in the ongoing ordeal of my abduction and submission. If you have found this then you obviously like M/m contact, consensual or otherwise. Thanks to all of you who have written and commented on previous chapters. You have given me the desire to continue writing. To all others Masters and fellow subs, please write and critique or comments.
With the hood in place, my sense of smell is assaulted by the half-dried, sweat-soaked cloth, so all I have left is a muffled sense of sound. Just before letting go of the drawstring, rob leans over to me and quietly says, "Master Eric is packing up his bag. It looks like he's finally going to leave this place.
"Okay robbie, it's time we get out of here. But, just so you don't try to escape, you'll have to be chained." These cuffs with the three foot chain go on your wrists, and these with the two foot chain go on your ankles." All I can hear is the sound of steel cuffs being locked. Then I hear Master Eric's voice again, "You'll have to carry your friend out to the truck. You're big enough to just sling him over your shoulder, so let's go."
I hear the dragging of chains across the floor; then I feel his hands on me. He rolls me onto my left side and slides me to the edge of the table. In one easy move, he slides me over his shoulder. My torso hangs down his back, and I feel my cock and balls against his bare chest as his hands grip the back of my thighs. "Follow me, robbie."
I hear the chain between rob's ankle sliding across the floor and through a doorway. The coolness of the evening air tells me we are outside. When Master Eric opens the back of his vehicle, he orders rob to lay me face down on the floor, so he lifts me off his shoulder and place me down just inside the door. I can feel the back bumper with my legs. Then I feel the vehicle dip slightly as he climbs in behind me. He pulls me inside and rolls me over so I am lying on my stomach. "That's good. Leave him right there. Now take these ropes and tie his ankles and wrist to the bar hanging from the ceiling. I don't want him to be too comfortable on the ride to my place.
I feel rob lift my ankles and wind the rope around them several times. Spreading my legs apart, he pulls the ropes through the eyehooks until my knees are bent at a ninety degree angle and lifted off the deck. After Master Eric checks his work, rob is ordered to bind my wrist with more rope and tie them to the over head bar. When the rope is pulled taught, I let out a painful groan which Master Eric answers by shoving his boot between my legs and stepping hard down on my cock and balls. When I scream again, he shouts, "Shut the fuck up CUNT or you'll lose what little you have hanging out now. Get It?"
I stop all sound and try to nod my head and acknowledge him. Only then does he stomp down once more and pull his heavy black boot off my genitals. All I can do is breathe heavily and try to regain my composure. Within moments, I feel him get out of the back of the vehicle, slam the doors shut, and get into the driver's seat.
Reaching back and slapping me on the head, he laughs, "I said goodbye to rob for you; I've decided that I want you all alone and all to myself. Don't worry, you'll get use to me CUNT; I can be rough with my slaves, but I haven't killed one yet.
My worst fears have come true. Now I am truly alone; no rob to help calm me and take some of the punishment; naked and securely tied; completely unaware of where I am being taken; and totally at the mercy of a Master who I barely know.
As the truck pulls away, I am left to wonder where I am being taken. After a short ride over a rather bumpy road, the pavement smoothes, Master Eric speeds up, and we are apparently on an expressway. Then I hear his voice, "You've had it pretty rough for the last several hours, CUNT, so I'm going to take it easy on you. We don't have very far to go and you'll be safe with me. My home is quite isolated and out of the view of prying eyes, so I don't have to worry that you'll get away or be heard by anyone."
Just as he finishes, I feel the vehicle come to a stop. "We're here. I'll be back out to get you when I get things ready, so relax and enjoy yourself."
To me, I have a great deal to worry about, and I certainly cannot relax. I have been forced to perform and submit against my will, so I don't expect for things to get much better anytime soon. As I expected, Master Eric returns, and I immediately resume my role as his submissive slave. When the doors of the vehicle are opened, I feel the rush of cool air. Master Eric first unties my legs, and they drop heavily to the floor. All feeling is gone and I wiggle my legs to get the blood circulating again. Then I realize my arms are tingling and sore. Before he reaches to release them, he grabs my cock and balls, with this stern warning, "You'd better fuckin' not try anything, CUNT. I'm in control, and you will obey me. Got it?"
I moan my understanding of his power over me. Once he unties my arms, he pulls me to my feet and directs me to follow him. "We're going inside. I've got to prepare you to be MY SLAVE now!" I stumble along with him as he guides his blind slave into the house. Once inside, he removes the stinking hood so that I can see my new surroundings. The house is rustic with wooden floor, stucco walls, and beamed ceilings. The incandescent lights give the place an amber glow as the fire dances atop the wooden logs in the hearth.
As my eyes fully adjust, I see a wooden beam hanging from the ceiling and low to the floor. Taking me to the beam, he says, "Straddle this." Once in place, he raises the beam until it just a little too high for me to stand flat footed. One pointed side of the 4 x 4 square is forced between my legs and pressed tightly to my cock and balls. It is too painful to for me to stand flat footed, so I work hard to balance myself on the balls of my feet. With the ball gag still jammed in my mouth, all I can do is look pleadingly at him for mercy.
He glares at me and says matter-of-factly, "Get use to it!" Then he walks to a table and grabs a length of rope and a pair of handcuffs. Dangling them in front of me, he laughs. "Your cop buddies gave these to me, just for you!" He first cuffs my hands behind my back and attaches the rope and throws it over an overhead beam. When he pulls down on the rope, it forces my body to lean slightly forward and exposes my perineum, cock and balls to the pointed beam causing new stress and pressure.
Grabbing me by the jaw, he forces me to look into his eyes. "I call this torment, Riding the Horse. If you think you are uncomfortable or in pain now, just wait. I won't have to do anything more to you. Time and physics will become your enemies, your Masters. The longer you stand there, the more you leg muscles will tire, and soon you will have to adjust your position to try and relieve the stress. All the while your cock and balls with be raked across the beam. You will have to endure this for at least an hour. By that time, you will be shifting constantly, and the pain will be intense. So, I'll be back in a while with a nice comfortable chair and a cool drink so that I can fully enjoy the show. Have fun, CUNT!"
Master Eric leaves the room, and for a moment all is quiet. Then I hear his vehicle starting and him driving away. "What has he done? He can't leave me like this! Please, please, this can't be happening." The more my minds races, and the more I try to shift my weight, the more the DAMM HORSE cuts into me. "Somebody please help me! Anybody! Rob, where are you?" I feel my breathing getting shallower and feelings of panic starting to set in, so I take some deep breaths in order to gain my composure. Once...Two...Three... "There you can do it. You can beat him at this own game."
This all works for a while; then my legs start to burn. I feel the heat from the fireplace and I feel sweat running down my chest; my shoulders ache from the tortuous rope, and my jaws ache from the fucking ball gag. A big, hard cock might as well be raping my mouth. The burning in my calves and thighs turns to uncontrollable shaking and shifting. Hell could not be worse. "Where is Master Eric? When is he going to release me? Please, Please; I can't take this anymore! Help me! Help me!"
Just as my thinking become almost incoherent, Master Eric enters the house and walks into what has become my torture chamber. Mocking me, he says, "How the fuck are you doing, CUNT?" He can plainly see that I am in distress, and I am at his mercy. Grabbing my cock and balls, he grins and says, "These little things have taken quite as beaten, all scratched and red. I've got the perfect answer to your problem." He lets my cock and balls drop back on the beam and rubs them into the rough wood just to my reaction. I moan in pain, so he just slaps them and walks away.
When he returns, he is carrying a plastic device. "This is the CB-6000, the new-kid on the block. It will protect you little cock and keep it under control. After all CUNTS can't have erections. Taking another moment, he kicks two blocks next to my feet. "Step up on these, CUNT, so I can get you all locked up."
With my legs still shaking, I struggle to balance myself on the blocks. He grabs my arm and steadies me. "I'm warning you, if you fall off the blocks, you'll tear your nuts off, so be careful." All I can do is groan and gather all my strength for a few more minutes.
The first thing he does is pour lube on my soft cock; then he slides it into the tube until it comes to rests inside the cock shaped head. As he holds the tube in place, he slides the split ring behind and over my balls. The last plastic pieces are put into place, and a small black Master padlock is attached. "That's it CUNT! You're locked up and mine." As I watch him work on me, he takes a black cord, loops it around the plastic head of the device and pulls it upward. He winds the remaining cord around my neck and ties a knot. Now my cock and balls are pointing to the ceiling. With me in this position, he kicks the block out from under my right foot. As I balance precariously on one black and hang painfully from the ropes and cord, I am told to count to twenty-five, slowly. "If you fall off before you're finished, we'll start all over, CUNT! NOW COUNT!
I start a muffled, whining, pleading count to twenty-five. It takes all my strength, but when I get to the number he ordered, he grabs me and eases me back down on the HORSE. "You're gong to RIDE a little longer CUNT. We've got some talking to do, and I need your complete attention and cooperation.
When he walks away from me, all I can do is breathe deeply and wait him out. He returns holding another cord and a pair of women's high heeled shoes. "This is another variation on riding the horse. These will make you clop along like you have horseshoes on. And the cord will keep you from sliding off. I want you in pain, just not torn up." Bending down to my legs, I lift one leg and then the other as he buckles on the shoes. Then comes the cord. He ties my ankles together so that they are shoulder width apart and no wider.
When he is done he steps back and adjusts the beam so it is once again shoved tightly between my legs irritating my tender inner thighs. Then he sits down in his easy chair and takes a drink. "Let's see how long you can last this time. You look more like a CUNT now than you ever did. I was thinking about changing you name, but this one fits perfectly. The slave boy bitch has now become MY CUNT! Are you ready to dance for me now CUNT? I think I'd enjoy seeing MY CUNT dance while he RIDES THE HORSE! This is an eight minute version of SRV's Tightrope. When it over, and if your dancing satisfies me, we'll talk. Before I you start to entertain me, let me help you out."
He lets my arms down from the painful position behind my back and reattaches them around my neck in front. "This will let you move a little better because I want a show from MY CUNT! Grind it good bitch! Oh, by the way, your fucking performance is about to be broadcast to the Internet by way of my web cam." Pointing to his inconspicuous laptop across the room, he says, "Look right over there." As I stare at the tiny web cam, he walks over, clicks his mouse a few times, and I appear, big as life for all the world to see. I've already alerted some of my closest friends about your debut, and they are logged on and ready to go. Let's see, we've got seventeen viewers; the word must have gotten around. Okay, CUNT, let's see what you've got."
When the music starts, I begin the most humiliating movements I have ever done, trying to thrust my hips back and forth and around and around along the beam. My movements are severely restricted and the wood painfully scratches my thighs, but I don't dare stop trying to entertain Master Eric and all his veiwers. I look for some sign or acknowledgement of satisfaction as I slowing dance to his music. The high heels make my calves burn, and the humiliation of the moment makes me seethe with embarrassment. Eight minutes seem like an eternity and as it the music grinds on, I begin to shake once again. I can hear my high heels clopping on the floor as I try to keep my balance. Now I know what he means by riding the horse. Even though the music ends, I cannot remain still. The pain and torment of the beam keeps me shifting, clopping, and moving.
"Well, CUNT, you are really, really riding now. And the complements are pouring in to my website. Are you ready to answer my questions now?" I nod as best I can, looking directly into his eyes to show him I am ready. "Good. Let me take off your gag so I can understand you." Once he releases me from the tortuous, bitter tasting ball, I breathe deeply, saying sincerely, "Thank you, SIR. Thank you." As I continue clopping around in my high heels, he begins asking me questions.
"Yeah! Yeah! Just answer me. Who do you belong to?"
"You, SIR! I belong to you. I'm your slave."
"Is your name, John?"
"No, SIR! My name is CUNT!
"But the others were calling you, johnnie. Isn't that your name?"
"It was SIR, but now it's CUNT!"
"Why is that?"
"Because I am your slave boy bitch; my name is now and always will be, CUNT!"
"Okay, CUNT. You need to be marked as my slave named, CUNT! Let's see. How would you feel about me bringing in a tat artist to mark you with you new name?
I hesitate because I don't believe what I am hearing. "Can I refuse him? Will he let me say NO! Do I have a choice? If I say, yes, where will he mark me? Will others be able to see my name?"
"I let out a desperate moan without answering him, so he presses me again. "Is your Name, CUNT?"
"Yes, SIR! My name is CUNT!"
"Then you should be proud to display your name right across your chest, so everyone will know your name. `Look, there goes, Master Eric's boy; His name is CUNT!'"
I can't imagine going through life with the name, CUNT tattooed on my chest, so I break down an cry, "NO, please SIR; I don't want to be marked with that name. Please! Please!"
"Quit your fucking whining, CUNT!"
"I'll let the tat go for now, but just so that you know I am serious, this should do the trick." Walking up to me, he takes a marker and prints C-U-N-T, in big black letters, across my chest. When he steps back and I see myself on his computer screen, I bow my head in shame and whimper quietly. "He taunts me, "Come on CUNT, you know you love it. You're a CUNT and now you have the name to prove it. Tell everybody watching you how much you like your name. Tell them."
As I clench my teeth and take short choppy breaths, I feel my face getting flushed and red from the humiliating admission I must make to Master Eric and all those gazing a me on his web cam. I look up at him with desperate eyes and say, Thank you SIR, for giving me the name I deserve and that I love. Thank you for writing it across my chest for everyone to see."
The angonizing confession weakens my spirit and my heels begin to clop even more loudly as my legs burn and shake. The constant movement has taken a toll on my cock and balls. The pointed wooden beam has scraped and scratched my balls while the cord has kept my cock head stretched tightly toward the ceiling. Every movement is now more painful than the last one.
The look on Master Eric's face is one of complete satisfaction that his slave is under control, is suffering, and will agree to and do anything he desires. He is leaning back with his hands behind his head laughing at my predicament and surely plotting out new ways to tease and torment me, the CUNT, his slave, clopping in my heels trying desperately to relieve the pain.
Looking toward the computer screen, he sees several notes popping up from the men viewing my performance. "Look here CUNT, there are Masters out there who say I've been too easy on you. They want to see me inflict more pain and punishment. Let's see. Yeah, this looks good. Stay put CUNT, I'll be right back.
When Master Eric leaves the room, all I can do is maintain my balance and minimize the pain as I ride the horse. It's just me, the beam, the ropes, the hot fire, and the clopping. What will I endure next?
Master Eric returns carrying some objects. "The guys want to see me do some nipple work on you, so I've got a set of clamps and some weights to stretch those little tits of yours." Grabbing and tugging on my left nipple, secures the first clamp whose teeth bite painfully into my sensitive, tender flesh. My whimper goes unnoticed as he grabs my right nipple, pulls hard and snaps on the other clamp causing me to wince in pain and cry out. With my hands still tied around my neck, I am helpless to stop him. When he sees and hears my reaction, he growls sadistically and says, "You fuckin' pussy; I teach you not whine and cry." He takes two weights weighing several ounces and hangs them on the chain attached to my nipples dragging them down sending shooting pains through my chest. Then he slaps me across the face, "What do you say, CUNT?" Knowing I must give him the answer he wants or be punished even more severely, I blurt out, "Thank you SIR! Thank you."
The guys also tell me that you've rested your arms long enough; you should have them tied together behind you like they were before. "What do you say about that, CUNT?"
"Sir, if it pleases you and the other Masters, Sir."
"Well, I see you're learning CUNT." As soon as he releases my arms, he pulls them behind my back jerking me off balance and causing my balls and legs to scrape against the sharp-edged beam. My balls and legs are raw and sore, but I don't protest more than a quiet moan. When my wrists and arms are pulled upward and lashed to the ceiling beam, the pain in my shoulders returns immediately adding to almost complete exhaustion.
"Some of the other Masters want to see how you like the treatment, so they've asked me to remove the cock tube." First, the loop is taken down; then the lock removed and the tube pulled off my cock. At first nothing happens; I just feel the sweat cooling my cock. Then Master Eric takes my cock in his hand and begins to slide it up and down the shaft. The sensations feel so good that my cock begins to harden despite the pain coursing through my body. My legs are shaking and burning, my tits feel like they are being torn off, and arms are aching and numb, yet my cock is standing straight up.
Turning his face to the web cam, he laughs, "Hey guys; this fucking CUNT likes the treatment. Look at his pathetic little cock. It's already dripping pre-cum. He must want more punishment. What would you like me to do now?"
As he reads the comments, he says, "Really? I didn't think of that, but it should send him over the top. I'd like to see him crying and screaming in pain. Once again, CUNT, don't go anywhere. I've got to go upstairs and get a couple of candles."
To myself, I say over and over, "Oh NO; NO; NO; NO; Please NO; not candles!"
When he returns, he shows me two, long, red candles. "What do you think these are for, CUNT?"
"Sir, I don't know, Sir!" "You're not a very fucking good liar. Now tell me what the fuck these are for, CUNT!" "Sir, you are going to light them and drip hot red wax on me." "That's almost right. Anyway, what have you got to say about this game?" "Sir, if it pleases you, Sir." "The guys say, and I agree, that I should drip the wax on your cock and balls. Do you still want to play the game?" I think about all the pain that I have already endured. My mind is screaming, "No! No! Don't do this to me! Stop! I can't take it anymore!" But, a feeling of total helplessness comes over me, and I bow my head and begin to cry, "Oh please Sir, if it pleases you, I'll do anything you want." "You fucking CUNT! No fight left in you, huh? Let's get started then." He lights the first candle and waits until the flame is burning brightly. Waving the flame in front of my face, he says mockingly, "What do you want, CUNT?"
"Sir, please, I just want you to stop. I really can't take this anymore. Please, Sir!" "WRONG FUCKING ANSWER, CUNT!" Master Eric savagely slaps me across the mouth. "I'M TIRED OF YOUR FUCKING WHINING AND YOUR FUCKING CRYING!" I see him grab the ball gag again as he shouts, "OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, CUNT!" Grabbing the back of my head, he jerks it backwards and rams the gag between my lips and teeth and buckles it to my head. "Now you can moan all you want, you fucking little bitch."
The attack has cause my cock to begin to go soft, so Master Eric pours some warm fluid on me and brings it back to life with his hand. As soon as he is satisfied that I am hard again, he tightly winds a cord around the base of my cock and balls, up around the shaft, and around the head; the rest of the cord is thrown over a beam and tied off.
When he steps away from me, I am left helpless, no one to release me and relieve my pain. Whatever sadistic things Master Eric and his friends want to do to me, they will. My naked body is sweating. I am straddling a wooden beam that has been scraping and raping my legs, my ass, and my balls. I'm standing in high heels that continually torture my calves and thighs. My arms, long since numb, are painfully tied together behind my back and pulled toward the ceiling. My tits have been clamped and weighted. A ball gag has silenced me, and my cock, kept hard and sensitive by the cord is tied to a ceiling beam. All movements cause stress, pressure, and pain. And even though I don't know how long I have tortured, it feels like hours and hours.
Master Eric re-lights the candles and steps toward me. "What's the matter CUNT? You look like you're afraid."
Not wanting to anger him any further, I remain silent, ready to please my Master. Throwing his head back in mocking laughter, he says, "Well. Alright!"
Taking a deep breath, I watched wide-eyed and fearful as he slowly tilts the candle toward my hard, sensitive, roped-tied cock. Drip...drip...drip. Splash...splash...splash. The boiling hot wax sears the head of my cock and the pain comes alive causing me to scream into the ball gag, drip saliva from my mouth, and blow deep breaths through my nose. As I scream, I shake my head back-and-forth, "NO! NO! PLEASE NO!"
Seeing my reaction just fuels his sadistic fire. The flames dance on the ends of the candles and reflect in Master Eric's eyes as he takes both candles and repeatedly drips the hot, liquid, red wax on my cock and balls. I scream and scream, but no amount of pleading affects his demeanor. He laughs and taunts me over and over, "You fucking CUNT! You fucking CUNT! I'm just getting started. If you think this is bad, you're in for a rough time. Your ass is mine, and you will suffer until I am satisfied!"
to be continued...