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I Have Never Seen My Master's Face
Part 4 – Waiting
I don't know how long I slept. When I woke up I was lying on my cot in my little room. My jaw was sore, my throat felt like I had strep. My ass burned. I looked down and saw that my chest was striped with ugly red welts. The whole thing came flooding back to me. I had been snatched off the street, my loan shark apparently having gotten tired of my excuses. My debt had been sold to a stranger, a man I knew only as Mr K—, who now owned me as a sex slave. For our first evening `together', he had inspected my flesh, fed me his 10" meaty cock and impossibly opened my ass for his massive meat. Later he had forced his cock down my throat, cutting off my air as he whipped my chest for having disobeyed him. He came deep in my gullet as I lost consciousness.
On the small table beside the cot was a large plastic blender cup filled with the now familiar gray, chalky meal replacement shake. It had been sitting a while, not ice cold as the earlier ones had been and it had started to separate. There was another plastic tumbler with plain water as well. I could tell it was daytime through the small frosted window by the ceiling.
The water felt good on my sore throat. The thick shake I could only take tiny sips of. Its color was not appetizing, but it didn't taste bad. A little sweet. I had been told it was nourishing and that it was the only food I would get for a while. I also remembered Mr K's assistant Mason telling me there was a mild sedative in it, I guess to keep me docile.
I noticed that in addition to the welts there were dried dribbles of cum over my chest and belly. Mr K had jacked my dick until I came, all the while telling me that I was never to cum without permission. That's the disobedience that got me whipped while he smothered me. My hand fell between my legs and I felt the heavy metal cockring that had been placed on me, through which Mr K had administered a heavy electric shock in punishment for an earlier infraction. One of my standing orders was never to touch myself sexually, so I pulled my hand away from my shackled cock and balls. I glanced quickly up to at the camera in the corner by which the guards, and Mr K, monitored my behavior.
More rules came to me. I was to keep myself clean at all times. I gingerly got to my feet and moved to the other end of my small room—cell, I guess. I carefully pulled the protective curtain that separated the toilet/shower end of the room from the sleeping end, I started up the cold shower. I washed myself all over with the liquid soap provided for me, working the soap around my cockring and cock and balls, carefully avoiding anything that my young gonads would interpret as pleasure. I then used the provided pipe to clean myself `inside' as well, and dried myself on the rough towel provided. I had washed yesterday, I guess it was, but this towel was fresh. The sheet and simple blanket on my cot also seemed fresh since yesterday. Someone must have changed them. Except for when I was in the outer-room/sex-dungeon with Mr K I hadn't left this room. I don't know when anyone had time to come in and change everything. I guess while I was passed out.
I sat on my little cot and as I finished my shake and water, there was a knock at the door. Before I could react, it opened, and I scrambled down to my knees with my head bowed. Mason stepped in, and said, "You don't have to do that with me, but you're smart to have remembered to kneel and look down for Mr K—. I'll always knock. He won't. You'll have to learn to listen for footsteps out here."
Mason, a tall muscular man in his late 30's, was in another flawlessly tailored suit. He lifted me up and sat me back on the cot. He pulled over the folding chair and sat in front of me. "Let's see." He ran his hands over my bare chest. "These aren't too bad," he said, referring to the welts. "I've seen much worse. Much more might have broken the skin." He pulled out a jar of some kind of ointment, and started to put some on my wounds. "Broken skin means open wounds. Takes longer to heal, leaves you open to infection for a while." I winced as he hit a particularly tender spot. "Sorry." He carefully went on tending to my wounds. "Trust me, don't do anything to make him mad enough to injure you." He went on as he worked. "Believe it or not, he's probably taking it easy on you, since you're new."
He pulled me to my feet, checked the fit on the shock-cockring, and turned me around and looked at my ass and hole. "Well, you're a little swollen back here, but nothing looks torn or bruised. That's good." He turned me around and smiled right in my face. "He's made boys bleed. You're talented."
I don't know why, but whatever tension I had been feeling just drained out at that moment. I was a slave. Mr K owned me. And absurdly, I wanted to please him, to make him happy. To make him proud. Being `talented', I guess, meant I'd be able to do that.
"You're probably hungry. I'll have them make up another shake for you." He turned to leave and I reached out and grabbed at his leg. Without thinking, I ran my hand up to his crotch. He pushed my hand away. "You don't have to do that for me. I don't swing that way anyway."
I just said `Oh'.
"You're his. Not anyone else's. Certainly not mine. At some point, he may have you entertain someone else, either alone or with him, but you'll have his explicit permission."
"I – I want to please him."
"Of course. We all do."
I guess I looked surprised at his answer.
"I work for him. He pays me a lot of money to manage and maintain this estate. That includes you. But we're all very loyal to him. He treats us well—he'll treat you well too, if you satisfy him—and there's something about him that inspires loyalty." I didn't say anything. "Do you have any questions?"
"No, I guess not. I—it's just all happening so fast. A couple days ago I was homeless, turning tricks for enough money to eat and maybe pay a loan shark enough to keep off my back for another day. Now, I'm a slave."
Mason smiled his handsome half-smile. "You didn't trip over the word. `Slave'."
"No, I guess I didn't."
"I'll be back down with another shake." He closed the door behind him. As I had once before, I checked the knob. It wasn't locked. I had been ordered to stay in my room until given permission to leave. They didn't lock me in. I guess they just expected me to obey. I stretched out on the cot and pulled the rough blanket over my naked body. I didn't try to open the door.
Mason brought down another shake a while later, an action he repeated every few hours all day. I didn't see or hear anyone else that day. It got dark and I fell asleep. In the morning, I guess, Mason came back with another shake, but he put it down on my little table and said, "He's coming down to see you. He wants you out here."
Mason took me into the main room. I'd been blindfolded mostly, my times in room, so I only had had a glimpse when I was brought in. It was a large room. The walls were painted black, and mostly covered with shelves, hanging bars, and cabinets. There was leather gear hanging from the bars, and on the shelves I recognized a few sex toys and other dungeon equipment, including the thin bamboo cane Mr K had whipped me with, among other things. God only knows what was in the cabinets. Glancing up, I could make out heavy black rafters with a number of hooks and rings, with heavy chains hanging from some of them. There was a motorized winch which could lift anyone suspended from some of the chains. A high table the size of a double bed, covered in leather, sat at one end of the room, more hooks and rings around its edges and down its heavy wooden legs. Mr K had referred to this as an `altar'. Where I sacrificed my flesh for him. To him.
Mason gently wrapped a black cloth around my head, covering my eyes. He helped me down to my knees in the middle of the room. I bowed my head as I heard him leave the room. I was there long enough for my knees to start to ache from kneeling on the hard black marble floor.
Eventually, Mr K came in. "There's my sweet boy," he said. "Mostly recovered from the other night?"
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
He stepped close to me running his hands through my hair, down my neck, over my chest. I winced as he brushed the welts. I felt my face flush and I felt ashamed that I had reacted that way to his touch, even though it hurt. "I had a very good time. You made me feel very good. I came hard. Do you remember?"
I nodded.
"Good. I'm looking forward to playing some more, but unfortunately I have to go out of town for a few days."
As much pain as I had gone through, I wanted to please him. To have a chance to show him I was a good slave. I was crushed by this news. I slumped. I think I started crying.
"I'd much rather stay here and play with you." He stroked my face. "Mason will be here to see to your needs while I'm gone. And when I get back we'll have more fun together." He bent down and kissed my cheek, gently, like he might a small child. Then he stood up and walked out of the room.
I waited on my knees for a few moments, then decided I should probably go back to my little room. I crawled over and felt for the door. I didn't take off the blindfold until I had gotten in and closed the door behind me.
Mr K was wealthy and demanding, and though he said he was not a sadist, he'd spanked and paddled me, shocked me through the heavy shock-ring, and he had whipped my chest with a cane as he suffocated me with his cock as punishment for cumming without permission. It didn't matter that he had been milking my cock with his strong hands, or that I begged him to stop, to not make me cum when he didn't want me to. But in the end I'd disobeyed and he'd punished me. And it hurt. But I'd fucked up my life on my own. Somehow it seemed right that someone else should take control. And that I should be punished when I fuck up.
A very small part of my brain was still worried. What would happen to me, how long would I be kept here, what worse was in store for me, what would happen when Mr K— was done with me? But more of my mind was ... well, at peace. I was his and didn't have to worry about anything except obeying and pleasing him. I couldn't wait for him to come back.
That day and the next I was all alone. I never left my little cell. Mason came down several times a day to bring me my gray shake things, but he didn't stop to chat much. I tried asking him about what Mr K was off doing and when he was coming back, but he just said that wasn't really any of `our' business. Once earlier he'd hinted at earlier boys Mr K had kept as slaves, and I asked about them. None of my business either.
My little cell was lit by a weak bare bulb in the ceiling with no switch or chain to turn it off, but there was a small frosted window near the ceiling on one side. Through it I could see when it got light and when it got dark outside. One afternoon I could tell it rained pretty hard outside. But except for these clues, and the timing of Mason's visits, I didn't have much sense of the passage of time. I don't think I slept much during the daytime, but most of that time is lost to my memory. When Mason brought my last shake of the day, he would remind me that security was watching through the cameras in my room, and ask if I was all right for the night. I'd thank him and he would leave. I would drink my shake, go wash up in the shower area, and climb into my cot and go to sleep. Every morning when I woke up and washed, there'd be a fresh towel and sometimes a fresh sheet on my cot or a fresh blanket over my body. I never knew who brought them or when.
Several days followed the same pattern, but after I'd gone to sleep one night, BOOM, the door to my room slammed open. I think I yelped. The big bruiser guard who'd put my shock-ring on me was standing above me. He loomed over me, his 6'6" massively muscled frame squeezed through the narrow door. Before I could react he grabbed me by the hair and lifted me to my feet. "Keep your mouth shut, faggot," he growled at me. "Nobody else around to hear you anyway." He dragged me out of the cell and into the sex dungeon outside, "but I don't want to hear your noise."
He threw me back against the leather `altar' and drew one of his guns, pointing it straight at me. "Now you listen. The Boss is away, and Mason's not around to help you." He snarled, "I'm the only one on the monitors tonight, and so there's no one to see what's going to happen."
I started to protest, "But—" SWAT He backhanded me across the face with his free hand.
"Shut the fuck up. Mr K pays me good but doesn't give me much time to get any pussy of my own. So as long as Mr K isn't around to use you, and nobody's here to get in my way, you're gonna take care of my dick."
He reached into his fly and dragged out a half hard, thick dick. He grabbed my head in his gun hand and slapped his meat across my face a few times. "Open up, bitch."
I tried to pull away, but he grabbed a fistful of my thick brown hair and waved the muzzle of his gun at me. "I can shove my meat in your faggot mouth or I can shove it in a hole I blast in your skull." I glanced up his bulky muscular frame up to his blond, cropped head. His face was contorted into an ugly mask. I heard him cock his gun. "Ain't nobody around to rescue you, princess. Now SUCK!' he bellowed.
I reluctantly opened my mouth and licked at his hanging foreskin. He jabbed a thumb into my mouth behind my teeth and dragged my jaw down painfully. He thrust his hips forward and buried his cock in my mouth. It wasn't nearly as big as Mr K's, but the sudden intrusion had me gagging.
"Yeah, that's it. Choke on that big meat." He drew out and shoved back in.
I felt his fist, still gripping his gun, slide around the back of my head and pull me into his pelvis. "Gag on it, faggot." Choking and sputtering I tried to pull away but suddenly both of his hands were on the back of my head holding me still while he pounded his hips into me. "Aw fuck yeah, eat that meat. Swallow it."
What part of my mouth that wasn't filled with dick soon became filled with thick mucus that I gagged up as he choked me. Between thrusts he drew back enough for me to catch a sputtering breath, forcing the thick white foam out of my mouth or up into my nose. After a few more thrusts he pulled out completely and rubbed his dick all over my face, covering my face with the frothy vomit.
He slapped my face again with his wet dick and the shoved it back into my throat, dragging me in with both hands and holding me down on it. My throat spasmed and tried to eject his cock, my gut pushing more mucus up and around it. "Fuck yeah," he breathed, "nothing like a juicy bitch to take care of my big ol' cock." He started jabbing his hips at me, rotating his hips so his meat stirred and rubbed against my mouth and throat. Once in while he'd pull out and let me catch my breath while he slapped his slimy wet cock against my face before plunging back in.
Eventually, he pulled out of my face, me coughing up more thick froth through my mouth and nose. He still had my head in his hands and he dragged me to the table, threw me over onto my belly, and crossed around the table to present his dripping cock to my face. Not even waiting, for me to open my mouth he threw his hips forward and raped my throat again. His hands pressed down between my shoulder blades pinning me to the table as he roughly fucked my face. "Take it! Take it! Take it."
Every ten or 12 strokes he'd pull out of my throat, and I would struggle to catch a bit of a breath through my flooded nose and throat before he started in me again. This went on and on, sometimes with him gripping my head, sometimes he just thrust his hips and drove his cock into my face.
"Fuck yeah, fuck. Too good. Too fucking good," he started to grunt. He stepped back, his hard cock dripping onto the marble floor. Still holding me down, he stepped around to the other side of the table and dragged me back so my legs were hanging off the side of the bed. "Fuck, bitch, with a mouth like that, your faggot cunt must be fucking amazing."
Without any prep and no lube except for whatever juices I'd left on his cock, he lined up and punched his dick into my ass. I heard myself make a noise, something like a squeak, a cough, and a scream all at the same time, even before the pain blinded me.
"Aw, yeah," the bruiser breathed. "Bitches like you love a good hard fuck, right? Word is you sold it on the street before the boss took you in. With a grip like this I bet they were lined up to poke you." He fucked me hard and fast, driving little grunts of pain out of me with every stroke. He would pull almost all the way out before punching his meat back inside me.
"Yeah, your ass is almost as good as a hot wet pussy," he grunted. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He pounded my ass so hard I felt the teeth of his zipper jam into my skin, and the knife holder on his belt poke at my hip with every thrust. I started to squeak with every thrust. "Yeah, princess, you need a good hard fuck almost as much as I do, huh?"
"No, no, no ..." I started to beg. Something in the back of my mind was surprised to hear it, but ashamed to realize I hadn't protested before.
"Yeah, motherfucker, you're taking all that fuckmeat. Been a couple days since the Boss left. Must be hungry for it." Punch. Punch. Punch.
"Please ... please ..."
"Don't worry, princess, you're gonna get your reward. Been weeks since I got my nut in a hot wet pussy." He started fucking harder and faster. "Fuck yeah, you're gonna get every drop of jizz I got stored up. Fuck, fuck FUCKI!"
He slammed his body against mine and I felt his dick pulse and start to unload. It felt like a hose had opened up inside me.
I don't know how many bursts of semen he shot in me, but it took a while. As he started to come down he drew his cock out about half way and then pushed back in again really slowly. He pulled out again just as slowly, until it was just the head still dribbling inside me, and he reversed and shoved it in with one powerful stroke.
A couple of deep gasping breaths later, his cock still buried up my ass, he grabbed hair and pulled my head way back, pointing his gun right at my face again. "Good fuck, bitch. Now, you're gonna keep your mouth shut about this, if you know what's good for you. No telling on ol' Dugan, right, faggot? Cuz I got no problem blowing your brains out if anyone finds out I played with one of the Boss's toys. Not yours, not Mason's, not the Boss's." He chuckled harshly, as he swiftly put the gun back in its holster. "And so you remember..." He put his hand in his pocket and ZZZAAAAPPPP I was blinded by the sharp electric jolt from the shock collar/cock ring. "Aw, fuck, that makes your cunt twitch nice. Gotta remember that. So, just remember I can use this too. Any time, from anywhere. Boss doesn't know that I kept a remote for it." ZZAAAPPPP My whole body flexed and spasmed. His cock plopped out of me with a wet noise. "Fuck yeah, I should have been zapping you the whole time." He stepped away and leered at me. "Makes your pussy grip tight like a proper cunt." He turned away from me and started to walk out of the room, his wet, dripping cock still hanging out of his fly. "Just forget this ever happened, and everything will be all right."