NOTES>> This is the seventh chapter in the Contracted To Justin series. Safe sex doesn't appear in this story all that often, but I trust it appears a lot in your own lives. Sex does appear quite often though, sometimes quite graphically, and invariably of the gay and BDSM nature, so only read on if the law of your chosen land allows. The copyright is all mine, subject to Nifty's rules on the matter.
This one gets kinda painful! Hope you like. Thanks for all your feedback -- I really appreciate it. Words positive or otherwise to josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com are always much much appreciated.
CHAPTER SEVEN: Ball Beating
I really didn't expect Jay to answer the door. I don't know why it was such a surprise, except I guess it never occurred to me that Justin had given his friends keys to my flat. Just as weirdly, as soon as I saw who it was I blushed riotously.
Despite the fact I had passionately sucked off this teenager just twenty four hours earlier, and even though I knew he'd fucked both my ass and my throat multiple times the night before, somehow I now felt really awkward standing naked in front of a seventeen year old again. Even a cocky, well built, dominant seventeen year old like Jay. He had a youthful cuteness that made him seem even younger, which didn't help of course, but I think my renewed awkwardness was caused by where I was. I was standing in front of this teen in my vulnerable naked state in what was essentially a public space - the hall way to my apartment. No one was really likely to walk in here and see me, naked, with my hands behind my neck, my dick locked up in its cock cage, a disgusting piss damp jock strap stretched over my head, standing subserviently in front of a dominant teen. But they could. At any moment. And that's why I felt so awkward. Jay, a real dom in the making, knew how to make it worse.
"Ah, just in time" he said, "I'm dying for a piss".
He clicked his fingers and pointed to the floor. I knelt down. He unbuttoned his fly and fished out his cock. I opened my mouth, he placed his dick inside and started to piss. I was still in the public hall way, with Jay standing in the open doorway to my apartment. I'd already serviced this teen. I'd already taken a load of piss in a semi-public place. Somehow doing the two together was way more than twice as bad.
Justin and I had come straight back to the apartment after our dinner. Justin had explained that we needed to get back because my latest punishment was overdue. He'd also promised to paddle my balls this time. This had put me back into the terror mindset. Last time he'd punished me I'd got 161 swats to my ass. And that was after just minutes of being Justin's slave. Who knew how many `violations' of Justin's law I'd committed since then? Even if I was only due another 160 swats, there was simply no way I could take 160 swats to my balls. No way. I know I'd felt that way about 160 swats to my ass prior to Friday's punishment, and in the end I'd made it through that OK. Sort of. But an ass paddling was one thing - a ball paddling was another thing entirely. My balls were already aching, and that was after just one kick from that guy in the restaurant toilets who'd objected to me putting a piss soaked jock strap in my mouth. Perhaps there was a different system when it's your balls being swatted. Rather than ten swats per violation, perhaps it was one. A swat of the balls is surely ten times worse than a swat of your ass? God, I really hoped that's how it worked. Though I wasn't sure I'd survive just 16 swats of my balls. Not if he hit them anywhere near as hard as he'd hit my ass.
As you can see, my mind was racing as our taxi drove us home. I couldn't ask Justin for clarification of course. Firstly, I knew questioning Justin about my punishment would only make the punishment worse. And secondly, I couldn't ask Justin anything because I had a piss soaked jock strap stuffed in my mouth. Still, at least the mental panic about my pending punishment took my mind off the piss that was slowly oozing out of the jock and dripping down my throat. Though by this stage I was starting to get used to the taste - I still didn't like it -- but I was getting used to it.
Once inside the elevator of my apartment block Justin told me to take the jock out of my mouth and stretch it across my head instead. I hated having a jock filled mouth, especially when the jock was soaked in my own piss, but I would have given anything to keep it in there at that moment. This jock was now one of the most disgusting things I'd ever seen, covered in cum, piss and vomit stains, and freshly damp from when I'd pissed into it back at the restaurant. And once on my head it was there for everyone to see -- should there be an everyone to see it, which their could be. Being made to put a jockstrap on your head in a public area was bad enough, but with this jockstrap it was even worse.
But, fortunately for me, once again the corridor on the fourth floor of my apartment block was empty. Both as we left the lift and walked towards my flat door, and as I ran back minutes later, naked, to dispose of my clothes down the garbage shoot. With the fear of the punishment, and the embarrassment of the jock strap on my head, I'd forgotten about the protocol for returning to the flat.
"Well?" Justin had said as we arrived at my flat door. It took me a good ten seconds to realise what he was referring too. Ten seconds too long. "Look, fuck face", Justin said, getting angry again, "Sunday rules finished when we left the restaurant. You should know that. Which means you should now be naked. You can't keep fucking up like this. I mean, it's your balls that are going to get the beating, but it's me that has to beat them. And I just don't have to time to be paddling your balls three hundred times every other day".
That was a cue for me to get out of my clothes, I knew that. But that last statement made me freeze. Shit. Did he mean that. There was simply no way he would paddle my balls three hundred times. Was there?
"Look, shit boy, would you rather go and do this down in the lobby. Because if you're not naked in five seconds that's what we're going to do".
That time I got it. My slutty shorts and t-shirt were on the floor, the summery sandals I'd worn next to them, my hands behind my neck, my plastic encased cock fully on show. Despite the fear of the pending punishment, and the earlier embarrassment of the jock on my head, this situation -- the nakedness probably -- was turning me on and my dick was already pushing against the side of its cage. I paused for two seconds, and then wondered whether I needed to take the jock off my head too. Justin clearly knew what was going through my head.
"No, keep the jock where it is. OK, you know what to do. I'm going inside, and I'm going to shut the door this time. I don't need to keep check on your counting do I? Because if you don't do it loud enough then you'll have failed me, and you wouldn't want to fail me, would you?"
Justin was the king of the mind games. "No master" I quickly replied. And I meant it.
"When you're done politely knock three times, no more. I'll let you in when I'm ready".
And with that my master opened my flat door, entered, and slammed it behind him. I picked up my clothes, ran back into the corridor, quickly threw them in the trash, and then resumed my position in my hall way and started to count. It was a lot more degrading without Justin here to watch or listen. Somehow if Justin could see or hear me there was a purpose to my humiliation, because presumably he got a kick out of it. But this way I was suffering and no one was benefiting. Or at least it seemed that way. Of course Justin knew I'd do as he said, even without him there, because of the "don't fail me" line. And he knew it would be more humiliating for me for him to not be there. And that's where he got his kick. Plus, as I found out much later, my apartment door wasn't that thick and, so desperate was I to not fail my master, I announced my cocksucker status in such a loud voice he could hear it anyway.
"One ... I'm a cocksucker ... two ... I'm a cocksucker ... three ... I'm a cocksucker ... four ... I'm a cocksucker ... five".
With my count to fifty complete I knocked on the door three times. I knew he wouldn't come straight away. I'd expected that. So even though it was scary standing in thehall way, knowing anyone could walk in at any minute, and see me in my naked cock caged glory, it wasn't a surprise. The surprise came when, after three or four minutes, it was Jay who opened the flat door.
"Good boy" he said, as I swallowed the last of his piss. "As you're down on your knees I think it would be best if you crawled to your corner, don't you?"
I learned later that most of these lines Jay used were direct re-quotes of things Justin had said to other subs. Jay was obviously in awe of Justin and the way he dominated his sub slaves. But I didn't know that at the time, and the fact a seventeen year old was coming out with such things made my degradation seem ten times worse.
Justin and Jay's brother Paul were both watching TV. They'd moved the kitchen table to the side of the room and pushed the sofa and armchairs back to where they normally sat. I passed between the sofa and arm chairs as I crawled to my corner. Paul kicked my ass as I passed him. Once in my corner I stood up, bent my legs, stuck out my tongue, put one hand back behind my neck, the other on my ass with the middle finger stuck up my hole.
It was another hour before any of the guys acknowledged my presence again. I was now slowly getting used to standing in this way in my corner for longer periods, though I'd never stood for an hour solid, and was starting to feel almost dizzy by the time Justin said: "OK, shall we punish him in here, or in the kitchen?"
"How many he's getting" Paul asked.
"Well, 300 for starters, though I've a feeling he'll ask for more than that. If he knows what's good for him".
"Well, that's going to take some time" Paul observed, though without expressing any surprise at the severeness of the punishment Justin was proposing, "so we should do it in the kitchen. That way we can come back in here and watch TV if we want to take a break half way through".
"Good point" Justin responded. And so, behind my back, I heard more action as the table was returned to the kitchen. And then "OK shit for brains, get in here".
I wasn't sure whether to walk or crawl. Crawling might look more subservient, and there was a chance Justin would be more lenient as a result. But then that would require me pulling my finger out of my ass without permission, and I wasn't sure that would be allowed. In the end I crawled, but only using one hand, so the middle finger of the other could stay inserted up my ass. I must have looked ridiculous, but I'm still sure it was the right thing to do.
"OK, stand up" Justin said once I reached the table. As I stood he yanked the finger out of my ass, pulled it round to my mouth again and said "lick". I did. Again not a nice taste, but nothing shitty like the night before. "OK, sit on the edge of the table". I did as I was told. Justin pushed me backwards so I lay on the table on my back. As he did that Paul was busy tying my ankles to the table legs, while Jay pulled my arms above my head, and then pulled them backwards so his brother could tie my wrists to the other table legs. Basically I was tied to the table like on Friday but in reverse. It was much more painful in this position.
Then I could feel Justin fiddling with my dick. And then the plastic cock cage was removed. My dick grew to full length almost immediately. I'd gone completely soft again while standing in my corner, but as I crawled into the kitchen I'd felt my dick expand to fill the cock cage, and now, free again, I was at full erection. Which meant my balls were even more exposed.
"OK," Justin said, "there's been thirty clear violations since your last punishment". He'd got his paddle out I noticed, and was gently swaying it through the air as he spoke. "I won't bore you with the details, you know you've been fucking up a lot. I've actually been very lenient and let some things pass. I hope I don't regret that later. So, 30 violations, that's 300 swats. I'll add another ten to that, just in case. 310. What do you say?"
I knew what I was meant to say. But I couldn't. There was simply no way my balls could take 310 swats of Justin's paddle. No way. I had to convince him of that. I had to try.
I'd been going over what I should say while standing in my corner. And despite the fact we all know begging for mercy was futile, I'd actually convinced myself I'd found the right words to convince Justin to reduce my punishment. A polite but logical argument as to why Justin shouldn't paddle my balls over 300 times. It's unlikely I had of course, but I never got to find out. Because as soon as Justin said "what do you say" I burst into tears. The only words I managed through my crying were the likes of "please master, no master, I can't, I beg you, please, no, please, I'll do anything, please, no".
I think I cried like that for five minutes straight. I seem to remember the guys smiling and may be even laughing during my crying fit, but I was too distraught to really focus. Certainly by the time I calmed down there was a sombre mood in the room, and Justin looked very very pissed off.
"Listen, gay boy, I don't have time to stand here and watch you have one of your girly cries. You know what you need to say. Now, unless you want me to double your punishment, I suggest you say it".
"Thank you for punishing me", I said. Well, whimpered really, but the words just about came out. "It is important you punish me, so I can learn. Please master, please add ten more swats to my punishment, please". Jay took the still piss damp jock off my head, and shoved it into my mouth.
"340 it is" Justin said. Paul laughed at Justin's deliberately bad arithmetic. "OK piss boy," Justin continued, taking his position, "this is going to hurt. Jay, put that jock in his mouth will you. Because this pig is about to scream big time".
I wish there were words I could use that communicate what it is like to have your balls paddled. If those words exist, I don't what they are. There is only one way to truly know what I went through that next hour, and that's to have an athletic dom get to work with his paddle on your own balls. Justin was right about one thing -- if it wasn't for the jock in my mouth I'd have screamed louder than I ever had before. As it was I was squealing pretty loudly, despite the jock gag.
Swat, swat, swat, swat...
I've been told since that Justin never paddled my balls anywhere near as hard as he paddled my ass. That might be true because, with hindsight, that first hit wasn't quite as bad as I had expected it to be, especially as I saw the paddle swoosh through the air (which is another bad thing about be paddled this way up, you can see it coming). But with another hit coming every few seconds the pain down there got genuinely unbearable. Quickly.
Swat, swat, swat, swat...
It's so much worse with your balls because, while it burns and stings like your ass, each hit also sends that horrible ache throughout your groin and gut, which makes you want to curl up into a tight ball. Which, of course, isn't an option when you're tied down. And with each hit the ache gets more intense, until your brain stops being able to distinguish one hit from the next. It was around about this time that I realized I was feeling really nauseous. And pretty dizzy again.
Justin paused at 50 swats. Jay had already got him a beer from the fridge.
I later noticed that while he often let his friends swat my ass, he rarely let them loose on my balls, which again possibly backs up the idea that he wasn't so hard on them. But as I desperately tried to regain some kind of composure during this temporary respite, it was hard to process anything other than that the aching in my groin and stomach didn't seem to decline now that he'd stopped paddling me.
Though I did notice that my dick was as hard as ever. And that I could feel some pre-cum drip into my navel.
The other thing I was aware of was that the dizziness and nauseousness remained. In fact I was now feeling really really sick. Which meant that when, after what can only have been a two minute break, Justin started paddling my balls again, I started to throw up. This was without doubt the single most horrible experience so far. Certainly it was the closest I had ever been to actually thinking I was going to die. The vomit sped up my throat so quickly that the jock was still in my mouth. Coupled with the fact I was lying on my back I really thought I was going to choke to death. But I managed to tell myself to turn my head so gravity was on my side, and quite a lot of vomit managed to squeeze past the jock and gush out of my mouth. Plus the force of the vomit, coupled with my frantic pushing of the jock with my tongue, meant the jock strap soon fell out. Vomit gushed out of my mouth -- I'd had a pretty big lunch remember -- and my body shuck all over, forcing me to pull hard on my tied ankles and wrists.
But here's the thing. As my body shuck and rattled and threw up my dinner, Justin didn't stop once. Swat, swat, swat, swat... He didn't even miss a beat. So as I desperately tried not to choke, as I threw up my guts, and as I violently shuck, the heavy hits to my balls never stopped. And that deep deep aching just got worse.
Swat, swat, swat, swat...
I think I was throwing up and retching for much of the next fifty swats, because Justin stopped again not long after I'd stopped vomiting. It occurred to me that, despite the jock now being on the floor again, I hadn't actually screamed during the few swats that came after the vomiting. Even though I could have. Still, Justin wasn't going to let me keep my mouth empty for too long.
He paused for longer this time, consuming another bottle of beer provided by Jay. The three guys chatted this time, but I was in too much pain to focus on what they were saying. But I did notice Justin get something else out of his bag, and then realized he was standing by my head.
"Since you're completely incapable of keeping that jock in your mouth, were going to have to gag your properly". He pulled open my mouth and pushed something plastic like in there. It was quite wide and filled my whole mouth back to my throat. I quickly realized it had a cock shape to it. It was a cock gag. And it had a strap attached to it that Justin was now tightly attaching around the back of my head. I started to panic. What if I vomited again? I wouldn't be able to get this gag out of my mouth in time. I tried to protest, but couldn't do much in this position, so my protests came out as squeaks. This seemed to amuse the three guys greatly.
And then swat, swat, swat, swat... He was off again. The pain in my gut hadn't lessened during the pause, and now got even worse. Except. Despite everything I found myself slipping into that place again. The place where you find you can focus the pain so that, while it doesn't go away, somehow you can start to bear it. Not quite so much as during the fucking the night before, or even during the ass beating on the first day, but enough to make me realize there was a chance I could make my way through this. Which meant that Justin's offer during his next break was trickier that I would have expected.
"OK, I'll make you a deal" he said, 150 swats in. "You've got another 200 swats to go. Now your getting at least another fifty on your balls, that's a given. But the other 150. Well, if you'd prefer, you can have 300 swats on your ass instead. What do you say? Blink once for 150 more swats on your balls. Blink twice for 300 on your ass".
Had he made any kind of offer at the outset I would have taken a double ass paddling over a ball paddling without any doubts whatsoever. But now I wasn't so sure. The ball paddling was horrible. Really horrible. But I was nearly half way through this ordeal. Accepting 300 swats to my ass would make me less than a third of the way through. I nearly went with the ball paddling. Despite how horrific that would be. But then Justin squeezed my balls. Tightly. "Hurry up fuck face, we don't have all day". The pain in my balls became so acute that I quickly blinked twice.
"Good choice", Justin remarked, before landing another 25 swats on my balls in quick succession. So quickly in fact my mind went all over the place, and it was a minute or so before I realized the swats had stopped and I was being untied. Forgetting the deal I'd just taken, for a brief second I thought my ordeal was complete. Until Jay and Paul turned me over so I was now face down and retied my ankles and wrists, while Justin adjusted by throbbing cock so it was poking under the table. This time I was glad he did that though, even though it meant I couldn't rub my erection on the table. But if my cock was trapped under my body so would be my balls, and they ached so badly the thought of that was just horrid.
"OK Jay," I heard Justin say, "its all yours".
I didn't comprehend what Justin meant at first, but when I heard that horrible woosh sound while Justin was still standing in front of me I realized what he'd done. He'd given Jay his paddle. Teenager Jay was to administer my ass paddling. And boy could he hit you hard for a 17 year old. I immediately regretted accepting the ass paddling deal. As the first swat hit my ass I remembered just how much this hurt, and I realized that I was going to get twice as many of these this time as I'd had on Friday. As is always the way at the start of these punishments, I didn't see anyway I could stand 300 swats, especially as each one seemed to make the gut and ball pain I was already enduring even worse.
But I did stand it. I don't know how -- except that I quickly found that mental place again -- the sub place -- where the constant and increasing pain becomes just about bearable. The guys took it in turns, doing fifty swats a go, which meant there were few pauses, just as long as it took to pass the paddle from one guy to another. The paddling was relentless. But in a way I was glad, because without the pauses I could stay in that special mental space. And needless to say, my cock continued to throb.
And then they stopped. After 300 consecutive hits, the end came as quite a shock. I'd long since stopped listening to the counting and was instead concentrating on tolerating the pain. And because the pain, in my ass, my balls and gut, didn't really subside once they'd stopped, it was only when I realized the guys were untying me again, and turning me over again, and tying me up again, that I realized the ass paddling was over.
"So Jay, how much do you charge to jerk off a filthy sub these days?" I heard Justin say once I was retied in place.
"You want me to jerk him off?" Jay replied, a little surprised sounding.
"I don't no, but I think he does". He nodded to indicate I was the `he'. Actually he was right. Despite the immense pain I was feeling in my ass, balls and gut, there was one thing I wanted more than anything now, and that was for someone to jerk off my throbbing dick. "And I reckon he'd pay you a few hundred bucks to do it".
"Five hundred" Jay said, quickly.
"What do you think jerk boy? Five hundred quid to get your nut? Blink twice if that's a deal".
Fuck, he could have asked for five thousand at that moment, and I would have blinked twice without a second thought.
"Five hundred bucks it is," Justin said, "the floor is your's Mr Jay".
Of course accepting this deal was even more foolish than accepting the ass paddling deal earlier. Had my dick not been in complete control at that moment there is no way I'd have contemplated giving this teen even more of my money. Especially as I could have predicted that, as indeed it was, I'd only need four forceful jerks on my dick before cum started to shoot out. And moreover, there were twenty five more swats due on my balls. Which meant it had happened again. Only this time I'd asked for it. I was about to accept the closing part of my punishment post-climax, when everything seems fifty time worse.
Within seconds of the last shot of my cum shooting onto my chest, Justin had his paddle ready to swoosh.
"Forty more, and we're done," he said. "Brace yourself".
Once again words fail me. Once again the only advice I can offer is that you get someone to paddle your balls straight after you've cum. And after you've already received 175 swats down there. And when your ass has been paddled so raw that the pressure of a hit to the balls sends new acute pain across your rear. I never found that special mental place during those forty swats. It was simply eight minutes of all out torture.
And then it was over.
Well, the paddling was over.
I didn't immediately figure out what was happening as my legs were untied, pulled back, and tied to the corners of the table so my ankles were next to my shoulders. All I knew was that this position sent new pain through my ass, balls and gut. And that my ass hole was suddenly completely exposed.
Which was the point of course.
Jay had his erect dick fully inside me before I really realized what was going on. He'd used lube this time so it had slipped in without too much trouble. And the pain I was already feeling was so intense, I hardly noticed the new pain of my ass hole stretching in order to take Jay's teen cock. But as he started to fuck I noticed. The physical pain was immense. And there was mental pain too. In my post orgasmic state, the sight of this dominating teenager fucking my ass like he owned me, was beyond degrading. Though as my own cock became hard again as Jay's rock solid dick hit my prostate that embarrassment did start to fade again -- though the physical pain stayed.
I think Jay, Paul and Justin, who each fucked my ass twice that Sunday evening as I lay bound to that kitchen table, actually went quite gentle, certainly compared to Saturday night. But after the paddling my balls and ass had taken, coupled with the added pain of being bound up in that way, the movement of each of those three dicks inside my ass hole felt very rough.
Though if I'm being honest the really bad bits were between the fucks. After Jay had fucked me, all three guys disappeared into the living room to watch TV, leaving my assaulted body folded over and tied down on the kitchen table, with the cock gag still filling my mouth. I ached all over worse than ever before. The aching and soreness around my ass and cock and balls was intense, and having my legs tied over my shoulders hurt like hell too. But none of it was the kind of intense that I allowed me to get off on it in a sexual way. In fact my dick was soon pretty soft and, without an erection, it all felt ten times worse. And it meant that whenever one of the guys came into the kitchen for a drink or food I felt completely ridiculous, being bound, gagged and exposed in this way.
All of which meant that when Jay, Paul or especially Justin appeared at my ass, with their trousers down and their erect cock lubed and ready to go my mood actually improved. At least for the ten, twenty and forty minutes Jay, Paul and Justin fucked my ass (respectively) I got horny again and, while the pain was more intense, it meant I could get to that special place where it was more bearable.
I have no idea what time it was when they finally untied me, but it had gone dark outside. Paul had fucked me last and had kept his dick inside me after he'd cum. There'd been a weird warm sensation up my ass, but I was so far gone by this time it was only when I stood up, and felt a watery liquid gush out of my ass hole, that I realized he'd pissed inside me. Needless to say, Justin had me down on my knees licking up the ass processed piss before I was finally locked back in my cupboard. He'd had to remove the cock gag to let me do that, but as soon as the pissy puddle had been consumed it was back in my mouth. And then he retied my hands behind my back.
This was by far the worst night so far in terms of how I felt once I was crammed into that cupboard space. The pain, the pissy smell and taste, the gag, and the bound hands. Plus I now needed to piss myself, real bad. I'd drunk quite a lot of water over lunch, more than I'd pissed at the restaurant and that was now hours ago. I tried making some squeaking noises through the cock gag on the off chance one of the guys would hear, open the cupboard and see what was the matter. But no one came. So, after twenty minutes of desperately fighting it, I let my piss flow. I knew I'd pay for it tomorrow, but there really wasn't anything I could do about it.
In some ways once I'd pissed things were worse -- I was sitting in a smelly sticky piss puddle. But somehow wetting myself had turned me on again, and that prompted me to start mentally replaying the events of the day, from being nude on the balcony, to exposing myself in the restaurant bathroom to those two guys, to drinking Jay's piss in my flat hall way, to being fucked six times over by those three studs. And, perversely, even the beating my ass and balls had received. Soon my dick was rock solid again and as I fell into a deep sleep images of my experiences continued to replay in my mind. When I woke up, hours later, I'd cum. I don't know how, I must have humped the piping or something in my sleep, but there was no disputing what the sticky stuff I could feel on my tummy was.
I could see light through the crack between the cupboard doors, so I knew it must be morning, though it was probably still early. I was desperate to piss again and given that I was already covered in the stuff I didn't see the problem in adding another load. So I pissed myself again.
Now I really was a "fucking filthy fuck".
And that's when something occurred to me. I had to go to work today.