Master Paulus

Master Paulus - Part 4 I've Never Been A Betting Man

By: Christian Xavier Gartrip

(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)

On this particular Friday, I had managed to slip away from work a few hours early. I treated myself to a nice dinner at a local restaurant and then headed out to Master's motel. It was the first weekend of October, but this is the south, so it was still warm and humid, which I actually enjoy. I hate cold weather.

I arrived at 5:45pm; well within the allotted timeframe he gave me a few months ago. When I pulled into the parking lot, I found Master standing on the sidewalk, only this time he wasn't alone. He and someone who appeared to be of a similar age and race (both are black) were watching me with interest. Master waited until I backed into my space then the two of them walked toward my car. I was nervous. This was out of character, and I didn't like it.

When I stepped out of the car I felt immediately dwarfed by the two larger, older, and taller gentlemen who were standing before me. Master had a white towel tucked under his arm, which was also a bit odd.

"Pop the trunk,... make it quick. I ain't got all night." Master was referring to the trunk of my car, in which I am required to place my clothing, wallet, jewelry, and cell phone before proceeding naked into the room we use, room 12. He typically comes in later. This is the first time he'd met me at the car.

"Now get out of your clothes and get down on your knees... NOW."

I stripped quickly and dropped to my knees. The friend simply stood by and watched before finally speaking. "Damn Paulus, when you said you'd been training a boy, I thought you meant some Mexican kid who sucked your cock every Tuesday afternoon. I had no idea that you were talking 'bout a white man. Damn. What's he do?"

"He does whatever I need him to do, and when he doesn't, I whip him. Mostly I just fuck him, but he's pretty much trained to do whatever I need him to do," said Master in what could only be described as a classic case of understatement.

"Like that whore who used to let me turn her over my knee and spank her before we'd all take turns fuckin' her that summer in N'Orleans?"

"Yeah, kinda, but more like that guy in those S&M movies we used to watch in DC at that bookstore," said Master.

"Whoa! That was some sick shit. Damn. Show me."

"Open your mouth boy, I need to piss."

I opened my mouth and Master unzipped his fly and pulled out his black cock and dropped it onto my tongue. Holding the back of my head, he let loose a stream of hot piss, which I swallowed for him... spilling not one drop.

"Dang, he is a nasty little fuck, huh."

"Yeah. He'll do." The men grinned at each other as Master put his dick away, but they basically just ignored me... something I'd grown used to.

"Wanna see something really sick?"

"Uh... I guess."

"Boy, get off your knees and squat down like a dog and then put your hands on the bumper of the car. Don't fuck with me, just DO it."

'Uh-oh' was all I could think as he barked his orders at me while I positioned myself like he ordered..

"What you gonna do, fuck him out here in the daylight?"

"No. Just watch." Master paused and stood back a little, leaning on the old Toyota sitting in the space next to mine.

"Take a shit... NOW!"

DamnitDamnitDamnit! Why does he do this to me?

Master's friend hooted with laughter when he heard this. Master, however, wasn't laughing. As I paused I saw him reach up to unfasten his belt. Just the thought of being horsewhipped in the parking lot was enough to produce the required response.

I did as I was told.

"JesusFuckingChrist, Paulus! I ain't never seen THAT before... Jeeezus Fuckin' Christ."

I thought I would die.

"Yeah, he'll do anything to avoid a whipping... of course, sometimes I think he actually LIKES a hard lashin' if you know what I mean. Boy, stand up and spread your legs."

Master grabbed my neck and pushed my head onto the trunk of my car. He took his towel and wiped my ass quickly and without a lot of attention to details, then tossed the towel into the grass.

"Now get inside and wait for me. I'll be in later. The door's unlocked."

As I walked to the room with my head down, I could hear the two of them yucking it up behind me. God, I really wanted to die. Who on earth was this friend, and why did he get to see me do THAT? I walked into the dark room and bent over the bed with my ass open to the window for anyone to see who might pass by. Master came in about an hour later, alone.

Master first soaked a washcloth in cold water and wipe my ass again. Then, as punishment for "pausing" in the parking lot, I received 10 (Master's favorite number) licks with an old piece of thick leather that I think once graced the side of a barber's chair. After receiving my punishment, Master "groomed me" by subjecting me to the standard shaving and bathing rituals. He never said a word to me during the entire hour we were alone together. There was no music, no TV, just total silence. It was eerie.

At seven o'clock he cuffed me to the foot of the bed and positioned me on my knees and elbows. He hung the enema bag over my head and filled my ass with a quart of warm water.

"Don't fucking move." He then smacked my ass with his palm twice and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

At this point in our relationship I knew better than to try to figure out his next move. I had no idea what the weekend would bring. At that point my main concern was how long I would have to hold this gut full of water, and whether or not I would see that man in the parking lot again.

Twenty minutes later, Master returned with a couple of bags of groceries (unusual), which he dropped on the sofa. He placed a bucket on the floor, uncuffed my hands from the bed frame, and then placed me on the can. "Shit," he said. I did, gladly.

He then filled my ass a second time with more water and immediately commanded my to evacuate that load as well. After I was sufficiently empty, he sent me to the grassy area near the parking lot (naked) to empty my bucket. Knowing that it would need to be cleaned as well, I stopped off at the maid's closet and rinsed it out and then returned to room 12 where Master stood waiting to give my "cunt" a final alcohol bath. At this point I was starting to feel like a kid being readied for bed before the grown-up party gets started. But with such a squeaky clean gut, I had the feeling that I should assume something a little different.

It didn't take long for me to deduce that Master was having company. While I sat cuffed and curled in the corner, Master busied himself with a makeshift bar, ashtrays, and bowls of nuts, chips, and dip. Master then set up the card table and placed four chairs around it. He took a few cigarette breaks, drank a beer at about 7:30, and then dumped a load of piss down my throat at about 7:45. Think "Mister" preparing for his whore's arrival in the Color Purple. It kind of made me laugh, but only on the inside.

A few minutes before the clock struck eight, Master approached me. "Boy, I'm only gonna say this once. In a few minutes, my 3 closest buddies are gonna walk through that door, and we're gonna play poker. We ain't been together since last April and we need this. And you're gonna be the one providin' the prizes. Tonight, you're gonna do whatever we tell you to do and they'd better have one hell of a good time doin' it. You even so much as think about embarrassin' me, and I'll drag your ass out of here and you'll spend the weekend chained to a tree fight'n off the Mexicans. I ain't playin' with you, boy. You get what I'm tellin' you? HUH? Speak to me, boy!"

"yes sir"

"What?"

"yes sir master, yes sir"

I knew from the look in his eyes that he meant what he said. I didn't know who these guys were, but they were important to Master, so I made a promise to myself to be good.

There was a knock at the door.

Master gave the room a "once over" then made a few adjustments to his belt collection before he opened the door. In walked 3 aging black men. Similar, but different. Army buddies, I thought... Army all the way.

As is generally the case with reunions, the four old friends spent the first few minutes hugging and back-slapping and celebrating each other. Oh, don't get me wrong, every one of them knew that there was a naked white man chained in the corner, they just didn't feel the need to acknowledge me at that point. Being ignored gave me the chance to observe and size up each one of them. I'll try to elaborate.

To begin with, none of these men struck me as the sadistic type, much less gay or bisexual. Of course, Master seems pretty innocuous to the casual observer, and I never would have guessed that Molly and Andy would have been such a freak-filled pair of morons. So okay, I guess I'm not the best judge of character. But still, these 3 graying gents seemed more grandfather than grandmaster.

First up is "Rog" (Roger, I guess to be his full name). Rog is the friend who watched me humiliate myself in the parking lot earlier in the evening. He was the closest to Master in size and build. Both are about 6 ft tall, beefy, dark-skinned and warm with others. They are like brothers. Rog, however, wore a gold earring, eyeglasses, and dressed like a cowboy. He wore a black Stetson, jeans, plaid shirt (unbuttoned to the navel to expose his expanding gut) and a suede, fringed vest. And of course, black cowboy boots. He was kind of hot for an old beefy black cowboy. Odd looking, but hot.

Joey is the really tall one. He also goes by Joe. The two names seem pretty interchangeable. Whatever. Joe is bald (shaved) and sports a jet black goatee that stands out against his medium-to-dark skin. He's the tallest AND the lightest AND the thinnest. His fingers are long and skinny, unusually so, and he is never without a cigarette. He reeks of nicotine, but no one really seems to notice. Joes grins a lot, laughs a lot, and jokes a lot. He also talks a lot. He's the extrovert of the group. You always know what Joe is thinking because Joe will always tell you. Joe is wearing a tracksuit of royal blue with white piping and white basketball shoes. He sports a few gold chains on one wrist and a gold watch on the other. At one point Joe winked at me from across the room before I was officially presented. Oh yeah, he wanted it. It really wasn't much of a secret. He was also the first to acknowledge Master's belt collection. He found them fascinating. Joe, I thought, was going to be a handful.

And finally, there is Rev. Just Rev. Reverend? Revis? I don't really know. They just called him Rev. Rev is the brooding one, the observant one and the menacing one. He seemed a bit angry at the world. I've no proof of course. I mean, he seemed happy to be there with his buds, but I had a hard time reading him at first. He seemed to lack any actual "joy". Anyway, he's shorter than Master, about 5'10 maybe. He's dark-skinned like Master and Rog, but he doesn't really have graying hair like they do... just a little around his ears. Rev wore a long black wool coat (like a reverend or a banker), which I thought odd considering how warm it was. Underneath he had on a long-sleeve white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. He was thinner with only a slight paunch showing around his waist. In a crowd, you probably wouldn't notice him. When he smiles, he doesn't show teeth. He just grins.

Master was of course the fourth member of this quartet. He seemed the happiest of them all. Clearly, he loved these three men. They were his best friends. He was dressed in his standard issue khaki work pants, a black polo shirt, and a pair of black lace-up boots, freshly polished. He wears no jewelry (aside from the occasional cock ring).

For at least half an hour the old friends listened to Ike and Tina Turner, ate handfuls of peanuts and chips, drank several beers a piece, and mostly gossiped and played "catch-up" with each others' lives. Typical stuff. As I mentioned, Joe was the most anxious to engage the naked white boy in the corner, so it didn't surprise me to find that he was the first to actually mention me in conversation. What surprised me was the sudden quiet that filled the room when he did. Damn, I really was the pink elephant that no one wanted to talk about.

"So Paulus. What's up with the white boy?"

Quiet.

Master finally grinned and stood up and looked over at his buddy Rog.

"Rog, why don't you tell 'em."

"Well my brothers, it seems that ole Paulus has been holdin' out on us a bit. Apparently he's found time to buy himself a slave boy to train and keep here in this motel of ours for his amusement. Oh. And he's one nasty little bitch too. Believe me, I witnessed it first hand earlier today."

"Whatcha mean by 'nasty,'" asked Rev.

"He's nasty... REAL nasty." He looked at Paulus for some sort of sign then proceeded with his story. "Today when he pulled up to the motel, Paulus had him strip down nekkid in the parking lot and get down on his knees. Paulus then whipped out his dick and pissed a blue streak in his boy's mouth. Just like a toilet. Nasty."

"Damn..." grinned Joe.

"And that ain't all."

"What else he do?" asked Rev, now a little more curious.

"Well, Paulus had him take a crap right there on the pavement. He didn't like it much, but he did it... just 'cause Paulus told to I guess. Nasty."

"Double Damn," blurted Joe while the others just stared at me.

At this point in the evening I was starting to experience that "I'm not human" kind of thing I wrote about in a previous chapter. To be honest, I was feeling a bit like dessert... and not in a good way. The discussion of my parking lot humiliations made me feel like a child or an untrained dog. I guess that's why Master had me do it. He WANTED them to discuss it in front of me because he knew how horrified I would be. Clearly, I was not their equal. I wasn't even a member of their species.

"So how about that card game, huh guys?" This was Master trying to dictate the evening's agenda.

"Let's go," said Rev, seconding Paulus' motion.

Now as a gay man, I don't play poker. I've never played poker, and I've never even wanted to learn to play poker. Don't expect me to provide you with many details, because it was all Greek to me. I will say that they played with chips, not money, and that they seemed to be playing the game called Texas Hold 'em, which I have always assumed was the most common version. If not, then I'm sorry. It's the best I can do. So let the games begin.

Rev was the first man to deal the cards. Joe, however, was the first to speak up.

"So Paulus," grinned the tall lanky Joe, "Rog said that boy o' yors drank your piss earlier. He always do that for you?"

"Well he does if I tell him to."

"Well, I was jus' thinkin', I mean I'm sitting here with a bladder full o' beer and you got a boy over there who drinks piss, so I just thought you might let me have a crack at it. Ya know?"

"Ha, something told me you'd be the first to ask... something told me."

Joe just grinned until Paulus said, "Have at it. That's why he's here."

"Hot damn!" Joe jumped up and strolled over to my corner. "Open up boy. Have a taste."

Joe pushed his trackpants down to his knees and leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against the wall. He held out a long veiny snake of a cock, uncut and hairless, and waved it around in front of my face. I sat up as best I could (cuffs you know), and opened by mouth for him. He started pissing before he even got the tip of his dick into my mouth. Fortunately he had good aim. He put his hands on my shoulders and held me in place as he emptied his sizable load into my throat. I could certainly taste the beer. His piss was strong and bitter, matching the potency of the nicotine smell that seeped from his skin. I kind of liked it.

The others sat silently at the table watching the scene from a distance.

When Joe finished pissing into my mouth, he shook the remaining drops onto my chin and tucked his cock back into his pants. He then belched loudly and turned around to face his friends. "NEXT!"

"I gotta piss too," announced Rev. This one surprised me. Rev really didn't seem to be the type... he was very uptight.

"Have at it," said Master.

Rev finished dealing the cards then pushed away from the table. Then he did something that really surprised me. He walked to the edge of the bed, sat down and removed his tennis shoes. He then stood up, unbuttoned his jeans and stepped completely out of them. He was wearing a lime green jock, which he removed as well. Naked from the waist down, he walked over and grabbed my chin with his right hand, squeezing my mouth just a bit. His cock was already semi-hard, which also surprised me.

"Have some piss, fag."

Rev pushed his cock past my teeth and squeezed out a hot load of urine as fast as he could shoot it. It almost made me gag. He was really into this. Again, it took me totally by surprise. When he was done, his cock had softened a bit, and I able to get a glance at it. It was dark like he was, longer than my own cock (I'm about 6"), and capped by a really fat and bright pink mushroom head, which seemed out of place. He never redressed himself. He just walked back to the table, cock swinging, and picked up his cards as he sat down.

"I'm good," announced Rog. He meant that he didn't feel the need to piss in my mouth like his friends had done. Master shrugged his shoulders and the foursome began to play. None of them seemed bothered by Rev's sudden need for partial nakedness. Maybe they were kind of freaky after all.

Joe "won" the first hand. He cheered and pulled his chips in from the center of the table, and then reached for a beer.

"So what's your pleasure, Joe?" This was Master, asking a cryptically worded question.

"Uh, whatcha mean?"

"The boy. What's your pleasure? He's all yours for the next few minutes."

"Reeeaallly? You serious Paulus?"

"As a heart attack."

Rev looked over at me as the conversation between Joe and Master heated up.

"Well. Since you put it that way. How about having your boy sit here under the table, and I'll have him suck on my cock while we play the next hand. How's that?"

"Okay with me. Whatever you want."

"Paulus, I gotta piss. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure Rog, go ahead." So it was Roger who was the squeamish one when it came to boys.

With Rog in the bathroom, Master led me to the table and placed me under it, on my knees, and in front of Joe's chair. Joes stood up, pushed down his pants to just below his knees (like he'd done earlier) and returned to his seat.

"Come on boy, suck the cock. SUCK the cock."

Joe's cock was really hard now. It was long, veinier that before, and it even appeared to be kind of slick with sweat. It actually looked kind of tasty. I slipped it into my mouth and gently sucked his pole as the game continued.

I sucked on Joe's long black cock until another hand was won. Joe didn't cum, but he did slip another load of beer piss into me, which I savored as I quietly swallowed it. Our little secret, I thought.

Rev won the next hand.

"So what'll it be Rev?" At this point everyone knew what that question meant.

"Actually, I'd like to take a belt to his ass and really see how he handles it. That okay with you?"

"Damn straight. Whatever you want, Rev. We get to watch though," Master laughed a little wickedly as he said this.

Rev pushed back his chair and reached under the table, grabbing me by my armpit, and pulled me over to him. He lifted me up to my feet and pushed my head into the table with my face looking directly at Master. He simply stared into my eyes as if to remind me of his earlier threats. I closed my eyes and braced myself.

Rev selected a belt from the wall and walked back to the table. I never saw the belt, but I soon felt it.

"You can take 5 passes at him. That seems fair," stated Master.

Rev rubbed the center of my ass with his palm and then stepped back before landing his first "pass" against me flesh. "WHAACK!"

"Good One!" yelled Master.

"WHAACK! WHAACK! WHAACK! WHAACK!" And then he was done.

Joe clapped his hands slowly, almost as much for me as for Rev.

"Nice," said Rev as he returned the belt to the wall.

"You know Rev, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd done that before. A lot." Master was curious.

"I got a boy of my own back home."

"REEAALLLY? Since when did you get a boy?" inquired Rog, now suddenly inserting himself into the scene.

"Had him for years. Black sissy, about 25, I guess. Lives down the street with his granny. A couple times a week he comes down to the house and let's me whip him for as long as I want to. He likes it. Likes it a lot, actually. So do I. Then we fuck like rabbits, and he goes home. That's about it. Not much to tell really. He ain't no slave though. I mean, he don't drink piss. I wish he did, but he ain't into that. He wears panties though. He likes to wear ladies panties when I whip him. He takes 'em off when I fuck his ass. It's kinda nice."

"D.A.M.N." was all I heard after that little confession. It was Rog again. I was still bent over the table at this point, watching Master hold back a smile.

"Well I don't have a boy," said Joe, "but apparently I need to get me one. It seems to be all the rage around here."

Everyone laughed at this one, except me.

"Deal," said Rev as he pulled me off the table and pushed me over to wall near the belts.

Joe won the next three hands. Basically, Joe and I got to be very close for the next half hour or so.

After the first of his three consecutive wins, Joe decided just to shuck all of his clothes for the night, except for his white tank top and jewelry. He wanted a rim job, so he bent over and grabbed his ankles (he was very limber) in front of me as I sat against the wall under the belts. He had me lick his ass clean of all of his sweat and grime. For good measure, I slipped a little tongue up his black chute just to show him what I could do. He really liked it and pushed his asshole further back onto my face for more of the same. I gave him all I had in that department: A full-on tongue fuck. He loved it.

After the next win, Joe came back for another tongue fuck, only this time he had me stretch out on the floor. He squatted on my extended tongue and really forced me to go deep this time. I cleaned it good for him, which gave him a full hard on. He rubbed it across my forehead and let the precum drip into my hair. They were all pretty drunk now, so the cheers of encouragement I heard from the table had become louder.

His third win gave me a chance to swallow my first big load of something other than piss. Joe shoved his long hard dick into my mouth and held tightly onto the back of my head as he fucked my face as hard and as fast as he could. It was brutal and actually made me dizzy. But Joe really wanted to blow one, so he didn't let up until he had coated the back of my throat with jizz. A lot of jizz. Damn, he tasted good. At this point I really wanted to be fucked and fucked good by Joe's beautiful old cock. Of course, I'd have settled for ANY of the 4 old cocks at that table, and I wasn't even drunk.

The night wore on, and it soon became apparent that Master and Rog weren't very good at playing cards. Neither won a single hand. I also came to understand just what kind of men Rev and Joe really were. Rev, as it turned out, was the true sadist. Darker even than Master I think. Perhaps he's just got a lot of stored up anger. I don't know. Anyway, he won the next two hands, which meant I got to receive two more sets of whippings. I knew that Master was secretly pulling for Rev. I could see it in his eyes. He really liked watching Rev beat me. It really turned him on.

Every time Rev whipped me (in the end, seven separate sessions, but who's counting at this point), he would choose a different instrument and a different locale. He seemed to treat the whole room as his own personal torture chamber, and he made full use of everything it offered. He bent me over the bureau and beat my cheeks with a large square wooden paddle. He bent me over the bed and whipped my lower thighs with two leather belts that he folded together. He stretched me over his lap and really let me have it with his open palm. Then, just for kicks, he took me outside and leaned me over the hood of a small car while he ripped into me with a particularly thick piece of studded leather as while under a streetlight. By the time he'd finished with me, I had lost track of the various details. I'd also lost all feeling in the lower half of my body. I was ready for it all to end.

Fortunately, Joe would win another hand or two as well, which gave me a periodic break from Rev's growing brutality. Joe never varied either. He just loved to have his cock sucked. Eventually, he blew another load, which I thoroughly enjoyed eating for him.

The only other distractions were the toilet breaks. Their toilet breaks. They were really drunk now, and all four of them (even Rog) used me throughout the night as their personal urinal. They were drunk on beer and power, and I was sick from drinking piss. It was quite a sight I guess.

Finally, Master threw a wrench into things and declared the poker game over. Rev and Joe still had chips, so Master pulled the key to room 12 out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table.

"One cut of the cards. The winner gets the boy 'til midnight. That's almost two hours worth of private SIN. He's all yours."

Please God, let it be Joe. I really wanted that man's cock up my ass. I really needed him to fuck me. I was desperate. He'd probably let me cum too. He'd probably even play with my cock. PLEASE GOD LET JOE WIN!

Joe drew a 10. Good for Joe! Rev drew a Queen. I was doomed.

Rev sat quietly at the table, fingering the key and savoring his good fortune. Joe, oblivious to my lust for his cock, seemed perfectly happy as he dressed and swigged a fresh beer between drags on his ever-present cigarette.

"Say Paulus, how about we three wander down the sidewalk and hook-up with some of your whores. I'd like a nice tight piece of pussy right about now. And I KNOW ol' Rog here could use a piece. Whatcha say? How 'bout it?"

"Sounds good. I'll meet you outside."

Joe and Rog exited the room, each with a beer in his hand, and started calling out into the night for "fresh fish." Master walked over to where I was kneeling, stepped in behind me, and dropped to his knees. He inserted his dry index finger deep into my cunt and whispered into my ear.

"I'll be back at one minute past midnight to clean up the mess Rev is sure to make. I'd better get a good review. If I don't, you're a dead man. You got that? A dead man." He ripped his finger out of me and walked toward the door where Rev was still seated at the table.

"He's all yours. Enjoy."

"Any rules I need to know about. I mean, any limits you gonna place on me?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, there are a few things you oughta know. He's not allowed to cum, so don't let him. I've trained him not to show wood, so if he does, beat it out of him, but I wanna KNOW about it if it happens. NO WOOD. PERIOD. That's pretty much it. I trust ya, so make it count. See ya at midnight."

For the first time since Ben, I wanted to run and hide. I really wanted to run. But I was cuffed and naked, trapped in a whore house with a sadistic black man known to me only as Rev. I wasn't going anywhere. I just knew that if I tried to fight it, I'd end up a missing person, which wasn't really a legitimate option for me.

After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation at the card table, Rev stood up and came for me. Master had also left him the key to my cuffs, so the first thing he did was to unlock them and have me stretch out onto the carpet on my back. He removed his white t-shirt and stood naked over me. He laughed at the sight of what he saw, but said nothing. He relaxed and let a stream of fresh piss fly from his cock and onto my face. Instinctively I opened my mouth and let it pour down my throat. He seemed to appreciate my effort.

"Get up," he mumbled.

I sat up and stood on my knees in front of him. He gripped the back of my neck and forced me to walk on my knees to the card table. From behind, he lifted me up and pushed me forward onto the table the same was he had done the first time he whipped me. He took the cuffs and attached one half of them to my left wrist and then stretched it out over the side of the table and attached the other half of the cuffs to the leg of the table. Now secured, he took a few minutes to rub my ass again. He didn't spank me, he just taunted me with what we both knew would come soon enough.

He had familiarized himself with Master's collection earlier in the evening, so it didn't take him long to locate another set of cuffs and some rope. Rev cuffed my right arm on the other leg of the table, and then tied each of my ankles to the remaining back legs. I was now completely secured onto the top of the card table. My body had actually taken the form of it. I was his prisoner... 'til midnight.

Rev dumped the contents of the ice bucket onto the sidewalk, then closed and dead-bolted the door. Clearly, we were not to be disturbed. He then crawled under the table and grabbed my soft dangling cock with his fist. He rubbed the tip of it with his thumb, gently blowing on it as he did so. He was trying to make me hard. He WANTED me to get hard. Asshole! I refused to let this happen. I zoned out, thought about work, meetings, computers, meetings, paperwork, meetings. It seemed to work. I showed him no wood.

Rev laughed at his failure. "You need to piss don't you? Go ahead, take a piss into the bucket."

I let my bladder relax and slowly the piss began to flow into the ice bucket. It felt really good. I needed that, and I was grateful.

He crawled out from underneath me and placed the bucket next to me head. Rev then dropped his white t-shirt into the piss-filled bucket and let it soak up my urine. He removed it and then shoved it into my mouth.

"Bite down on it. You'll thank me later." I did as he instructed.

While my own hot piss dripped down my throat, Rev retrieved a riding crop from the wall. I had seen the crop before, but Master had never actually used it on me. I had no idea how it might feel against my flesh. I would learn momentarily.

Rev came up behind me and placed his thumb against my shaved cunt. He rubbed it as if it were the clit on a whore. My cheeks had been spread wide because of how he had tied me down, so my cunt was very exposed. Eventually, he pushed his thumb into me and rotated it. It hurt, but I was not in a position to squirm.

He stepped back and slapped the crop slam against my skin. Ohmygod. It was like a razorblade cutting into my flesh. I winced and tightened my entire body. This was going to be brutal, and I had done nothing to deserve it.

He paused for a moment and used a finger to trace the red streak that I knew had suddenly appeared on my cheek. He was admiring it. He then delivered 3 more quick blows with the crop. "SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!" OHMYGOD, it was almost unbearable.

Again, he stopped and used his finger to trace the lines on my flesh. He was like an artist admiring his work. It was kind of sick.

"SCHLAP!SCHLAP!"

"SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!"

"SCHLAP!" With this last one he paused long enough to admire his work again. His fingertip found its way into my cunt momentarily. He twisted it like a corkscrew.

The lashing crop made its way to my thighs: first the upper area, then the lower part, just above the back of my knees. I lost count, but I think he delivered at least ten lashes to each area. "SCHLAPSCHLAPSCHLAPSCHLAP...!" The strokes just kept coming and coming and coming.

When a really well-trained slave is being used in such a way, when he's under so much stress and feeling this much pain, he knows how to "leave himself." I did that. I did that while strapped, spread-eagle, across the card table as Rev tore into my flesh again and again with that crop. I left myself. I had never fully done that before.

How do I describe it for you? Well, I didn't pass out... I zoned out. I was very much awake and aware of what Rev was doing to my butt and thighs. I felt it: "SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!" I heard it: "SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!" But somehow, I had found a way to kill the pain sensors in my brain. I was able to relax my body slightly because I no longer felt the burn. I closed my eyes and relaxed. I fucking relaxed!

And then it stopped. Rev stopped whipping me. How many lashes had he delivered? 30? 50? Yes, at least 50. I was sure that it was at least 50 lashes with my Master's crop, maybe more. I didn't know what my flesh looked like at that point, but I sensed from the way he was rubbing me that I had developed a number of red lines... so to speak. I was surprised that I wasn't crying. In fact, my lack of tears was probably the biggest surprise so far.

Rev sat on the bed and smoked a cigarette. I could hear him breathing. It was heavy, like he had just run a marathon. Suddenly I could feel the heat in the room on my flesh. My face was sweating too. My armpits were soaked and smelled sour. The sensations that had left my backside temporarily were coming back as well. Gradually, I felt the stinging and the burning and, of course, the swelling. Now, finally, I was starting to cry.

At some point after that, Rev stood up and returned to the table. He placed the fat pink head of his cock on the lips of my cunt and pushed it in. Shit. He was fucking me. Dry. He drove it in deep without pausing or allowing me to adjust to it. He was actually raping my ass. He didn't care that it hurt.

I felt his hands when they locked onto each of my hips. I felt the thick bush of pubic hair as it grazed against the top of my crack. Rev, unlike Master, seemed to prefer a slow, deep, fuck. He pulled his cock out of me, completely, before slowly pushing it back in, driving it as deeply as he could each time. His pace continued in a slow and methodical way. The fucking that he was giving me was almost surgical. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Again and again and again and again.

After a while, his bubbling precum had provided enough lube to the walls of my cunt to help make the assault more bearable. It didn't, however, cause him to speed up the rape. The slow fucking continued. I could feel the beads of sweat dripping from his chin onto my ass as he entered me, over and over. I kept waiting for him to speed up, but he never did. At some point I shifted slightly and then found myself starting to enjoy it.

A bit of truth: I love to be fucked. I love to have another man use my cunt for his own pleasure. Now, with the shock of the beatings behind me, I was enjoying myself. In my ass was a large black cock fucking me, and I loved it.

"Please don't stop," I thought. "Please don't cum yet." This is why I am a slave. This is why I am a good slave. This is why I will always be a slave to someone. This stranger, a man I would never have noticed on the street, had somehow found a way to capture me, whip me, control me, and now fuck me with his cock. He didn't even know my name, and he didn't seem to want to know it. He just wanted to rape me and own me. I was his. My ass was his.

"132." That was how many cock-strokes he took to fuck me: 132. Rev put his cock into my cunt 132 consecutive times. Rev pulled his cock out of my cunt 132 consecutive times. I know because I counted every stroke. I loved him for it. I loved Rev because he pushed and pulled his fat black cock into and out of my nasty cunt 132 times. What more could a slave hope for? I don't honesty know.

After the last stroke he paused, leaned forward and deposited all of his jizz into my cunt. Aside from the heavy breathing, he didn't say anything at all. I'd hoped he would yell out as he came. I wanted to know that my cunt had satisfied him. But he was dead quiet when he climaxed.

"Here, suck me clean." Rev was in front of me. His dripping cock was hanging in front of my mouth. He removed the piss-stained t-shirt and replaced it with his cum-stained cock. The taste of his cum, mixed with the sweat from my cunt, made its way past the piss on my tongue. He cum was sweet and sugary. I liked it. I sucked hard on his black pole because I wanted it to be hard again. I wanted to be fucked again.

"Slow down, boy. I said clean it, not swallow it." He rubbed the back of my head as I worked on him. He seemed satisfied.

"That's enough." He walked away.

For the next few minutes Rev searched through the drawers in the room until he found Master's stash of "toys". The next thing I felt was the sensation of a large plug entering my cunt. Master has several plugs that he uses on me, and I know each one of them really well. This was the large black one. It's long, somewhat thick, and made of rubber. He shoved it into me without any lube to help. I heard a grunt come from my mouth, but he ignored it. My cunt was still craving cock. This was the next best thing, and I was grateful.

Rev then returned to the wall. I watched his naked body and he stood there examining the various belts and whips and straps. He seemed envious. He seemed jealous. Rev finally selected a black belt. It was one of Master's favorites. This particular belt was about 3 inches wide and pierced with a series of small decorative holes... rows and rows of tiny holes. It was a belt that Master used when he wanted to "teach me a lesson." I had felt this belt many times, and I wasn't a fan.

Rev wrapped his hand around the large buckle and let it hang freely onto the carpet. He didn't fold it in half like Master does. Instead, he held it like a man holding a bullwhip. It scared me, and he knew it.

Rev came up behind me. I could tell from his breathing that he was standing back about 3 or 4 feet from the table. He wants plenty of swinging room, I thought.

Moments later I heard the belt whip through the stale air and then land on my butt. "CRRAACK!" The crop had felt like a razorblade, but this belt (wielded like a whip) felt more like a thick piece of moist wood... like a freshly cut tree limb.

"CRRAACK!"

"CRRAACK!"

Rev's rhythm was steadier this time. Each stroke perfectly paced on the center of my ass, without pause. I tried to focus on my cunt and the butt plug that he's wedged into it. I imagined that it was a large black cock... Joe's cock! It helped me to endure the pain of the whippings.

"CRRAACK!"

"CRRAACK!"

"CRRAACK!"

On and on he went, relentlessly. What was he doing to my skin? What did I look like back there? He didn't care. I knew that he didn't care. He continued to whip me. This was not punishment for me; it was pleasure for him. I couldn't see him, but I knew that his cock had grown hard again. I could feel it with every stroke of the belt. He would fuck me again soon. He would have to. "CRRAACK!"

And then it stopped. What was that, 20... 30? I didn't know. In my mind I was still being fucked by a large black cock, Joe's cock, and it felt wonderful.

Rev stood in front of me. I was right. He was hard, very hard. I focused on his cock's pink head and the slick bubble of nectar that sat there. He still had the belt in his hand. He was covered in sweat. He looked as if he'd just stepped from a shower in search of a towel. But his cock was hard as a rock. He was going to fuck me. He was going to fuck me.

Finally he hung the belt back on the wall, but instead of walking away, he chose another whip. This one was braided. It was an old brown leather belt that was braided with several strands of jute... and it was thick.

Rev had used the black belt only on my ass. The braided one was reserved for my thighs. This time he folded it and stood really close to me, just to the left. He placed his left hand on the small of my back and lifted his right hand into the air and slammed the new whip against my thighs. This time he didn't take his time. These whippings were hurried and brisk, like a machine.

"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."

Again and again he came at me, blistering my thighs like never before. As painful as the crop was, this was worse. I tried to "zone out" but the pain was too intense. I felt every lash, which came so quickly, over and over and over.

Finally I started to scream. Master would have told me to "shut up," but Rev ignored me. He let me scream as loudly as I wanted to. I think he liked it. I think he wanted me to scream out as if to say, "yes! it hurts like hell, it hurts like hell!"

The more I screamed, the faster Rev whipped me. I felt every stroke. My thighs were on fire, and the sweet sensation of the butt plug in my cunt had disappeared. "Joe" was gone, and I was alone with Rev.

"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK." "THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK." "THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!" AAAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAHHHHH!"

"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK." "THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK." "THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."

Finally, he stopped. I've no words to describe the pain I felt at this point. I can only say that Rev had seemed completely unmoved by my screams. Why? Was this what he did to his "black sissy boy" he had told us about earlier, or was he just finally free to do to another person what he'd always wanted to do? These are questions that I can never answer because I can never ask them.

He tossed the belt onto the floor and ripped the plug out of my cunt. He was ready to fuck me again. And he did.

This time, he wasn't so methodical. He shoved his cock in and breathed deeply when it reached its final depth. He paused and then started pumping his hips against my ass. He held onto my waist to steady himself, then "turned it on." This time he fucked me like Master fucks me: fast, mercilessly. BamBamBamBam went his cock over and over and over.

This was an anger-filled fucking. It was pure rage that I felt as he powered himself deeper and deeper into my gut. He was trying to tear me open, and he seemed desperate to cum again, as if his life depended on it.

At this point my darker side began to take over. My singed flesh was no longer a problem for me. Now, I was being fucked and fucked hard, the way I like to be fucked by my Master. This man was using me, fucking my cunt, and I desperately wanted it to continue. As he fucked me I started to wish that the others would soon return in search of more sex. Where were they? I wanted their cocks too. I wanted to be gang raped by all of them... fucked wildly and into a state of sexual unconsciousness!

"AAARRRRGGGHHH!" Rev screamed out this time as he shot his load into my gut. He was done, and I was angry that it was over. I wanted more, but he'd already pulled out of me, and was slumped onto my back, soaking wet and breathing heavily.

He stayed on top of me until our breathing leveled out and returned to normal. Finally he lifted himself up and stood behind me again. Because of how I was positioned, with my legs spread wide and tied to the table, I was unable to keep my cunt lips closed. Now, I could feel the warm spunk from Rev's cock drip slowly out of my hole. It didn't go unnoticed. He pushed two of his fingers into my cunt and coated them with his own jizz. He then reached across the table and inserted them into my mouth so that I could taste him again. It was warm and fresh and sweet. I could taste the juices from my ass as well. The combination made me high.

Rev then came around and placed his cock into my mouth and emptied his bladder. He had saved up a lot of piss for me again, and it filled me up and tasted great, like a real man's piss ought to taste. As he pissed into me, I imagined that the two of us were in a really dirty bathroom somewhere that stunk from stale piss and dried shit. I wanted him to see me as nothing more than a piece of trash, a foul stinking pile of worthless flesh. It turned me on to think that he might actually see me that way. I started to think that maybe Master would one want to "rent me out" to Rev, who might keep me in the basement at his house. Maybe he might invite people to come over and they could take turns abusing me...

Rev pushed the plug back into my ass (I can't tell you how grateful I was that he did this) and then sat down on the couch under the window. He was still naked and still glistening with a thick coat of sweat. He lit a cigarette and scooped up the last of the peanuts from a bowl on the side table. He was hunched over and he looked like an old man, a mean angry old man who still had work to do. He stared straight ahead and seemed oblivious to his slave chained to the table nearby. Was he done with me? It wasn't yet midnight. It was about 11:15. What else did he have in store for me? I didn't know, but at this point I was anxious for more abuse. I wanted him to beat me again. I've no idea why I felt this way, but it's what I needed him to do. I suddenly NEEDED him to whip me. I guess I knew what those whipping did to HIM. They made his cock hard. They made him want to fuck me. And ultimately, that was what I wanted. I wanted him to fuck my cunt again.

The wait was agonizing. Fifteen minutes passed before he finally stood up and approached Master's wall. He selected a paddle. A long, narrow, thin wooden paddle. I had felt this one before, but only once. The wood was old and heavily grained. I knew that it would leave a physical impression. I wanted it to. I wanted it badly. Apparently, so did he.

He first hit me on my left thigh. He knew that the thighs were the most sensitive because they were the last part of my body that he had whipped. The flesh there was still raw, and he took full advantage of it. He whacked me several times then shifted his attention to the other leg. "WHACKWHACKWHACK!" "WHACKWHACKWHACK!"

I screamed out because it hurt like hell. But mostly I screamed out because I knew he liked it that way. I wanted to please him. I wanted him to know how badly he was hurting me. More, more, more, I thought. Rip into me! Wear me out! He did. He pummeled me over and over. He whacked my thighs and my calves and my butt cheeks. I could not get enough of this abuse. I wanted his cock to get hard. I wanted to know that his cock was fully engorged and dripping with precum. "WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK!"

He was breathing heavily again, and it made my heart skip with sick pride. I knew that my flesh had turned a bright red and that I would be bruised and swollen tomorrow, but I didn't care. I wanted him to bruise me. I wanted him to give me everything he had. "WHACKWHACKWHACK!!!"

He tossed the paddle onto the floor and ran quickly to the wall. He ripped the crop down and rushed back to my ass. YES! The crop! I wanted the crop! He swung his arm in the air and crashed it down hard against my butt. The shock of it shook the table as he hit me with it again and again. Between the lashes I could feel my cunt tighten around the plug. My whole body sensed it. The pain and the pleasure had blended into one singular feeling of total ecstasy. The tears flowed down my face as Rev increased the pace and the strength of his attack. I didn't know where the crop would land next, and I didn't care. He was scattering the tip on it all over me. My ass, my thighs, my calves were all on fire as he unloaded with all of his strength. This was his climax. I could feel him reaching his full potential, and I knew that his cock was raging with blood.

He returned to the paddle again and came in close so that he could deliver a series of short and quick whacks to my ass. I felt the blood flowing through me and into my cock. I was getting hard. NO! I could not show wood. It was no use. My cock was huge and suddenly desperate for orgasm. It bounced to the rhythm of Rev's paddle. The head was pressed against the underside of the table. I was going to cum and cum hard. I had lost control. Focus, I thought. Focus. I zoned out. I don't know where I went, but I was gone. I could still hear and feel Rev's whippings, which had slowed down and were now being methodically delivered to my thighs. But I was off somewhere else and my cock was finally starting to soften. Suddenly, I felt it drop and go limp. I was saved. Rev didn't even seem to notice. He was too busy beating me.

Rev came at me one last time with the crop. At some point he had switched from the paddle, but I didn't know when that had happened. All I knew was that the heavy thud of the wooden paddle had morphed into the sharp cut of the crop. I loved the crop! Rev was swinging his arm back and forth, left to right, cutting into my flesh with nothing but pure unadulterated lust. I needed this. I needed that crop!

And then there was cock. Rev's cock. Rev had somehow managed to remove the plug and replace it with his own hard cock. Where had I been? I didn't know, and I didn't know what time it was either, but I did know one thing: Rev had finally started fucking me again. He was fucking my cunt. Finally, Rev was fucking my cunt!

I felt Rev fall onto the table and place his hands onto my shoulders. He was pushing his cock into my cunt as far as it would go. His crotch was grinding around in a circular motion, stretching the walls of my rectum to their limit. Could he cum a third time? From the way that he was fucking me, I knew that he was going to try. He wanted to. He HAD to.

Slowly and passionately he fucked me. For a moment it was as if we had actually melted into one large sweaty mound of flesh. I could feel his cock, and it felt as if it had permanently fused with my cunt. We were peaking together. We had finally reached the end of our sick journey to hell.

And then it all stopped. There were no sounds, no screams, no moans. He just came. His cum poured out of his cock and into my gut one last time. He had finally finished with me. He was done. So was I. No, I didn't cum, but my body had had enough. The red welts were starting to form. I could feel the fresh bruises. I could finally feel the pain.

When Master attempted to come back into the room, Rev was pulling on his neon jock strap. (Where, exactly, does a man BUY a neon green jock strap anyway?) Master knocked on the door and Rev walked over and let him in. Rev returned to the bed and put on his jeans and tied his shoes, then picked up his coat from the couch. He was not wearing a shirt. While he dressed, Master simply stood by the table, where I was still spread out and shackled, and stared at the damage that Rev had inflicted. Neither of them had spoken yet.

Rev moved to the door to leave. Master followed.

"There was wood."

"Huh?"

"Wood. There was wood. For a few minutes, I saw a little piece of wood. I did what you said to do. I beat it out of him. I just kept beating him 'til it want away. It wasn't easy for me. The whole thing kind of made me sick, you know? Seeing that faggot get all hard and shit from being whipped like that. He's a real freak. He never came, though, but he showed me some wood, so I beat him. I thought you should know."

"Thanks Rev. Sorry he messed it up for you. I'll deal with it. Thanks."

Well. There you have it. He had seen it. Rev had seen the erection and had told my Master about it. And not only did he tell Master, but he twisted things up to make it seem like he was somehow offended. Please. That sick fuck just wanted to keep hurting me. And now I had to deal with the aftermath. It wasn't pretty.

Master was drunk. I knew he was drunk because I could smell the alcohol as soon as he walked through the door. I'd never really seen him this drunk, and I wandered how it would affect my punishment. Master didn't feel the need to tell me about his disappointment. He rarely does, anymore. He just "teaches me a lesson" and leaves it at that.

Master took off his shoes and his trousers. Then he removed his jock and finally his polo. He was wearing a black tank top. That was it. He walked up behind me and let a hot stream of piss splash against the lips of my exposed cunt. He did it to let me know how dirty he thought I was. He wasn't going to fuck me this time. I didn't deserve a taste of cock. I deserved piss. He doesn't piss often on my cunt. He would never piss on something that he was going to fuck. So when he does, I know that it means he's angry. And he was VERY angry. I am not a man. I am his slave, and the slave of Paulus is not allowed to show pleasure, not in the traditional sense. He thought that he had cured me of this behavior weeks ago. I thought he had to. Rev had found something that Master had not yet killed in me. Rev had brought out a reaction of pure pleasure, if only for a moment, and now I was going to suffer for it.

The lecture that I got came in the form of a belt, the thickest, widest belt he could find. He knew I would scream, so he picked the used butt plug off of the floor and shoved it into my mouth. Then he took Rev's piss-stained shirt and draped it over my head. He didn't want to hear me OR see me. He was that angry.

I've no idea how badly damaged my backside was, but I knew that I had a lot of bright red spots scattered all over me. Tender spots that had received the most attention from Rev. Master chose those spots for additional attention. When he whipped me, he made sure that the belt hit the sorest parts. This was not foreplay. He would not get an erection this time. This was discipline: a simple and extremely painful lesson in right vs. wrong. Apparently, I deserved it.

Again, I do not know how many time he struck me. I can tell you that he punished me over the course of several hours. He would whip me for several minutes, leave the room, maybe smoke a cigarette or have another beer, and then he would return and whip me again. A couple of times he was gone for so long that I fell asleep only to have him wake me with more even punishment from his belt. It lasted for most of the night.

When I actually woke up it was daylight and the sun was shining brightly through the window. My hands were still shackled to the table, but my ankles were untied. Around my neck was my dog collar and the chain was laying on my back. I had no idea where Master was, but DAMN was I sore. I thought I needed a doctor. I didn't, of course, but it sure did feel like it.

Master came in a few minutes later with the largest dog cage I'd ever seen. He spent an hour or so assembling it, and then he placed it in the corner of the room. On the floor of the cage he placed a sheet of plastic then several layers of blankets for "padding." Uh?

He uncuffed me (finally) and led me outside into the sun. I was butt naked and he was holding onto my chain. He told me to "stretch" which I did. He asked me if I needed to piss and I nodded. He took hold of my cock (something he rarely does) and aimed it at the wall of the motel and then ordered me to piss. Coming up the sidewalk was an Asian whore, Tania. I'd seen her a few times in passing. She giggled at me and walked to her car. Master ignored her.

Just as the whore was about to pull away, Master waved her down and approached the car. He pulled me with him.

"Gimme your lipstick."

Tania handed Paulus a burgundy lipstick. In the middle of the parking lot he opened it and wrote the words "piss here" on my chest, just under the nipples. From there we walked to the back of the motel to room 20. I should probably tell you about room 20.

Room 20 is one of three rooms that Master has set aside for illegal Mexican migrant workers. Master has a soft spot for people trying to exist in the underbelly of society. Years ago he found a few of them living in the woods behind a local grocery store, so he offered them shelter in the motel. I don't think he charges them very much. Anyway, the rooms (all three of them) each contain 2 king size mattresses on the floor and only the most basic of appointments (sheets, a couple of blankets, and an old dresser). The men sleep 8 to 10 to a room when they are in the area. Mostly middle-aged, underfed, and kind of smelly, Master sees them as an endless stream of men whom he somehow needs to help out. So he does. Anyway, they do as they please when they are in town. They buy fucks from the whores, drink lots of cheap beer and rum, smoke pot, and mostly just sit around soaking in the dark, alternative culture of Master's motel.

I had no idea what I was going to be doing in room 20.

When we walked in, the men were asleep, seven of them... three on one mattress and four on the other. Not a pretty one in the bunch. Shit. We walked past the sleeping apple pickers and straight into their filthy bathroom. Master sat me on the broken, unflushed toilet (don't ask) and shackled me to it by handcuffing me to the water pipe that went from the back of the john and up the wall. This toilet didn't have a traditional tank. The tank was overhead, near the ceiling. It was probably one of the last original toilets in the motel. He was planning to replace it soon. As I said, it was broken. He pulled a rubber ball gag from his pocket and secured it in my mouth. Then he left.

From the bathroom, I could hear him speaking to the groggy, hung-over Mexicans. I didn't get the whole thing (I was still in shock), but I picked up on the gist of what he had to say. Basically, he told them not to fuck me or abuse me in any physical way. In other words, I was not their "plaything." I was just their new toilet seat. That's all they needed to know. Or something like that. Anyway, I was pretty freaked out by the whole scene, as you can imagine. He said something else about bringing them a keg for later, and then he left.

Well. What can I say? How about I just not say anything specific about the rest of my day? That's probably the best thing I can do for you at this point. Just know that I got to know these seven "gentlemen" extremely well over the course of the afternoon and evening, and we'll leave it there. I can also tell you that I never want to do anything that will land me there again. EVER. If I have to die trying, Master will never see or hear about any more wood from me. Promise.

When Master showed up to collect me, he pissed on me too, just for the hell of it. He walked me past the maid's closet and refused to hose me down. Instead he returned me to room 12 and had me sleep on the floor next to the bed, still covered in dry piss and whatnot. He slept with Tania I think.

I spent most of Sunday in the new cage. Master fed me there and even made me shit on myself instead of giving me access to my bucket. The window was open the whole time, and a number of people were able to witness this. At one point I looked up and saw Rev staring at me from the sidewalk. Where'd he come from? Back for more? Master was actually sitting on the toilet (it being Sunday morning), and by then I had already soiled myself again. Rev was grinning from ear to ear. He liked seeing me trashed and locked in a dog cage. Hell, for all I knew, he gave Master the idea in the first place. He knew why I was in there, and he liked it. Fucker probably had a hard on just standing there. After a few minutes he walked away as well. After he left, I spent the rest of the day thinking about him.

I had last seen him on Friday night (midnight), yet on Sunday morning he was still wandering around the motel. What had he been doing all that time? I doubt he'd been fucking his way through the motel's collection of pussy like Joe, Rog, and Master had done. He was clearly an ass-man and probably liked a fat cock in his mouth on occasion. So what HAD he been doing? Oddly, it made me VERY jealous.

I'd met and had been used by a number of Master's "friends," but Rev was the only one I actually thought about in any meaningful way. As I sat there in that cage staring at him in the window, I thought about how nice it would be if he would come in and do something to me. Anything. Maybe he needed to piss. If so, I could be his toilet again. I was too filthy to fuck, but if he wanted to use the crop on me again, just for kicks, I'd let him. I know. This whole line of thought is just too much, even for me, but I'm just trying to be honest about it. Basically, I just wanted to cheat on my Master... I wanted to cheat on my Master with Rev.

Before the weekend ended, Master took me to the woods and threw several (ok, several is a bit of an understatement) buckets of cool water on me until I was basically clean enough to leave. Then he walked me to my car, gave me my keys and sent me on my way. The weekend that had started out so well had deteriorated badly. I hated that it had to happen like that. I knew that all of it was my fault. I called in sick on Monday and Tuesday and stayed home to tend to my wounds. I also had some serious thinking to do.

CXG