Master Paulus

Master Paulus - Part 6 Selling Souls

By: Christian Xavier Gartrip

(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)

Preface: Again, I seem to be distracted and have left a number of you perverts "hanging" in anticipation of what happens next... Yeah, well, my life as a plaything is not easy, and I've been a little tied-up, so to speak, since New Year's Eve. In addition, the bossman has not been happy with the realistic portrayal that he and his friends received in a few of my chapters, so I've had to rewrite this one, again and again. Apparently I have a few fans here in NC who have contacted the Man in hopes of borrowing me and have also tried to guess his identity... or mine. Nice try, guys. Anyway, I've finally finished it... so enjoy.

(As a reminder: Saturday afternoon at Rev's lake house, last autumn.) Rev had me suspended with my arms stretched out above my head and roped to a metal pipe attached to the ceiling joist. Still naked, I was at least no longer cold. As Rev stood there, I could see that he was already sweating. He had yet to lift a single hand, but he was already covered in a thin salty layer of sweat. So was I.

He left his belt on my shoulder to taunt me and instead, turned his attention to a large wooden box against the wall. The box was old and appeared handmade. It reminded me of my childhood toy box, so henceforth, I've always thought of it as Rev's toy box. He hunched down in front of it and began digging around in search of... well... his toys.

He removed two large curls of rope and a pair of leather ankle cuffs and approached me, slowly.

"I can't have you kicking your way out of here, and I'm going to need your full attention. So be still."

I did stand very still as Rev cuffed my ankles and spread my legs about three feet apart. I was already shackled to the ceiling, so I guess I knew that I wasn't going anywhere, so I didn't waste any energy fighting him. Maybe he would go easier on me if I didn't resist. He each rope to each of the ankle cuffs and then extended the ropes to the outer walls and knotted them around the exposed studs. Clearly, I wasn't going anywhere for quite sometime. What next, a tribal dance?

I guess I should tell you more about Rev. Rev is slow and methodical about his work. Unlike Master, he is also a little more engaging. He sometimes talks to me, sometimes lets me talk back, and maintains eye contact in a way that would make my real Master uncomfortable. In addition, Rev isn't squeamish when it comes to cock. He actually seems to like it. Well, maybe "like" is the wrong word. Let's just say he doesn't seem to have a problem acknowledging that I have a cock. Master's idea of cock-play is to shave it clean once a week. Rev defines cock-play a little differently. But I digress.

As I said, Rev was naked and covered in sweat. Rev is also black. Very, very Black. To see him, you might think that his parents were Kenyan or Nigerian. There are no caucasians in his family tree. He's close to 60 I think, about 5'10" and probably weighs in at about 190, but I've never been very good at guessing a man's weight. He has broad slumping shoulders, a naturally lean bone structure with a thin chest, and a round protruding gut. His hair is about 2 inches in length and styled like a short afro from the early eighties. Although old enough, he had no gray hair that I could discern. It sounds odd, but on him it works. Of course, I am partial to brooding, aging black men, so what do I know?

I think I've already described Rev's cock to you, but if you don't remember, it's about 7 inches when erect; it is as black as midnight and tipped by an odd-looking bright pink head that seems larger in scale than it should be. Like the whites of his eyes and his glistening teeth, the pink mushroom tip really stands out. Actually, it's almost impossible to miss it. Rev's crotch is completely bare. At some point since our last meeting (when he first introduced me to the agony of the crop) he had decided to shave his pubic hairs. In their place rested a thick metal cock ring made from the shiniest steel. It looked like a flat platinum wedding band. He wore it very tightly, which pushed his sac down and forced the dark shaft of his cock forward. The pressure from the ring also made the veins very noticeable. It was so tight, that at one point I thought I could see the blood pumping through his dick from four feet away.

Rev spent an incredible amount of time checking my ropes and inspecting his knots. The room continued to heat up, and the sweat on my brow was now dripping into my eyes, but Rev never addressed it. Throughout, his black belt rested quietly on my shoulder as a reminder of what would come.

Rev revisited his toy box and returned with a thin and extremely long black rubber dildo. It reminded me of a rubber-covered bullwhip. Did I say it was long? Yes, it was very long. If he had placed it on the floor next to my foot, the tip of it would have grazed my knee. I'd never seen anything like it before, and it looked more like a weapon than a sex toy. Where does someone find this kind of thing? To this day, I've no idea.

Rev was also carrying the proverbial bucket of Crisco. He tossed them on the floor and returned to the toy chest.

Next up was a long piece of rawhide. Rev came in close and looked down into my eyes and grabbed my sweaty cock with his left hand and squeezed it. It was soft, which was unfortunate. He grinned at me, as if he had a secret that I would never get out of him.

My Master was not one for cock play... unless it was HIS cock that I was playing with. Rev was different. Rev was into cock and ball torture, or his own special brand of it anyway. He wrapped the rawhide around my cock and sac in a crisscrossing figure-8 pattern over and over again until he had run out of cord. He then tied it off and examined me. It was exceptionally tight, which as I said, was unfortunate, because as soon as he finished he began to squeeze my sac while rubbing his long black fingers across the head. The erection came quickly and as the blood rushed in, my cock expanded against the ever-tightening rawhide. It hurt like hell. It really seriously hurt. That, I guess, was the point.

Rev, always the sadist, aimed his cock onto the newly formed bonds and dumped a healthy stream of piss onto the knot. I knew that the wet rawhide would shrink as it dried, making the whole set-up even more tortuous. The week's worth of crotch fuzz that had sprouted since my last shaving didn't help matters either, but at this point, it wasn't really my major concern, as you can imagine. All I got from Rev was a grunt and then another one of his wicked grins.

After giving my cock a warm piss bath, Rev left the room and returned a few minutes later with a tripod and a video camera. Damn. Damn. Damn. In all of my time with Master and his friends, I had successfully avoided the starring role in a stereotypical online amateur porn flick that is so trendy these days... but no more, apparently. Rev set up the camera about fifteen feet away and turned it on. My "online" fate was now in his hands, and I was powerless to do anything to change that.

"We're gonna make a little movie. You can think of it as a marketing tool, a sample of the merchandise. You know what I mean?" Rev laughed at himself, but didn't really act as if he wanted a verbal response, so I just hung my head a little and kept my mouth shut.

Rev placed a piece of duct tape over my mouth and grabbed the back of my head and aimed my face at the camera as he spoke.

"This is our new boy. I know, he's not much of a boy, but he can take just about whatever any of you guys want to throw his way. He can stand up to a heavy-handed whippin' better than anyone we've ever had. He likes a good stiff dick up his tail too, and he can survive for days at a time on nothing but a diet of hot piss, warm spunk, and juicy ass crud. He's old, but he'd be worth every penny. Just sit back and watch and you'll see what I mean."

So this was an audition tape, I thought. Odd, because I didn't really remember giving him or anyone else my permission to sell me, but again, I didn't really have an "out." After his "intro speech," Rev didn't say much. He had work to do, and the images he caught on tape would do most of the talking..

Rev picked up the can of Crisco and scooped out a handful of the cool grease and rubbed it into the crack of my ass. My legs were spread out wide, so he had full access. He pushed two and then three fingers inside and coated the walls of my rectum with grease. After a few pops of his hand on my butt, he took the skinny black rubber dildo and pushed the tip of it past my sphincter. He didn't stand on ceremony for very long. He just pushed it straight into me, slowly but without hesitation, as he always does. The initial onset didn't shock me, but as the thin tube snaked through my lower bowel, the pain began to build gradually and very deep inside. He hadn't bothered to give me a fresh enema, so at times, I could actually feel it fighting to get past various blockages that proved to be no match for what Rev was pushing into me. God, in was so intense. I'd felt pain before and had enjoyed it in my own way, but never anything this deep.

Rev pushed on the black rubber snake until it disappeared completely inside my ass. The only thing left hanging free was a metal ring attached to the bottom of it that was too large to break past the sphincter. He tied a thin rope through the ring and then let it drop to the floor momentarily. He brought out a thick black slave (ok, dog) collar, studded with silver knobs and rivets and locked it around my neck. He then connected the dildo's rope that appeared to shoot from my ass to the collar. One length of the rope fit tightly against my chest, while the other fit against my back. The two pieces were joined to the collar.

Rev then shifted his attention to my tightly bound cock. He cupped it in his hand and squeezed it like a man squeezes his lover's dick, very gently, very passionately. It made me very hard again and had the desired effect of tightening the wet rawhide cord even further. It didn't kill any of the pain shooting through my gut; it only added to the agony by helping to spread it evenly all over my body.

Rev finally lifted the belt that had had been resting on my shoulder and folded it in half. He stood between the camera and me, and started giving me short quick slaps on the front of my legs. He concentrated mostly on the upper thighs, just under my crotch. Periodically the belt would come in contact with my dick and a whole new set of nerve endings would light up. No one had ever whipped my cock before. It was a whole new kind of sting.

Rev continued the slapping with a rhythmic pace as he slowly walked in circles around me. He wasn't looking at his camera and he wasn't looking at me either. He was however watching my flesh very closely. He seemed to concentrate on it as if he wanted to make sure that every slap of the leather hit a very specific and previously bruised spot. As I mentioned earlier, he is a very focused man... and very sadistic.

Periodically, Rev would pause long enough to stroke my cock or twist the handle of the rubber tube he'd buried in my hole, only to return to the constant popping of the belt on my thighs. This punishment continued for quite a time. Clearly, the men who would one day watch the video were the kind of men who enjoyed extended torture scenes with a lengthy build up of rough foreplay. Fuckers, I thought.

Escape was hopeless, and I'm not sure if "escape" is what I really wanted, but as anyone who enjoys this kind of thing might tell you, pain is pain, and regardless of how much you crave it, enduring it is often more difficult than one might imagine. So I squirmed, and moaned, and tried to yell out for him to stop, but he just ignored me. He was smart to bind me the way he did. It kept me from getting away. Yes, it's true that I can't really imagine sex anymore without this kind of treatment, and I do desperately crave the attention, but I always try to run. I always want it to stop as soon as it starts. The only way I can really endure it for any length of time is to be locked down, tied to a table, or chained to a wall. Master knew this instinctively, and so does Rev. Once the opportunity to flee is erased, the slave can finally accept his fate. It's the only thing that works. The human instinct is to run... always, always, to run. A rope, a gag, and a belt: they are the only true friends a real Master has. Without them, a slave cannot be a slave. He will run.

Even today, after all of my training, after all that I have endured, I cannot eliminate that instinctive desire to be free. No one can, really. The need to avoid pain will always be stronger that the desperate desire to experience it. Humiliation, degradation, or submission is one thing, but the pain that comes from physical torture is quite another. A good Master, a real Master, knows this first and foremost. He knows he can't extinguish within the slave the need to run, so he works to eliminate the opportunity. In my world, there are no poseurs; no safe words; no "stand here and take it" scenarios. No one asks me if I'm okay. These men, the Masters of my fate, know what they must do to keep the slave in his place. He must be bound. He must be gagged. He must not run.

And so I didn't run. How could I? Naked, carried to a strange place, bound in a room, and now unable even to scream. No one even knew I was missing, so how would anyone even know how to find me? This is not what makes me a good slave. It is, however, what makes Rev a good Master: He killed the opportunity.

That is what went through my head while standing in front of the camera as Rev slowly ripped into my flesh. He wasn't looking to me to see if he'd gone too far, or to see how much more I could take. This was not a game, and I was not in a position to give him permission. I had done that, given my permission to all of them, months ago.

Rev tossed the belt on the floor. He pressed his chest and stomach into my back and bit gently onto the flesh just below the dog collar. He wrapped his arms around my torso and stroked my nipples, then pulled at them, and then twisted them into two large red mounds. It took only a few seconds, but from somewhere he produced two silver tit clamps. He placed one on each of my nipples and pulled on them to exaggerate the intensity of the experience. This was new. Master Paulus was not a nipple man. He preferred the fleshy female breasts of his whores to the small bumps on his slave. So he ignored them, like he had always ignored my dick. Rev, of course, was different in that area as well.

Rev continued to manipulate the clamps until he'd achieved the maximum in pain infliction, which he could clearly deduce from my bulging eyes, my muffled screams, and my raging erection. He attached a silver chain to connect the clamps, which held in its center a large silver gothic cross that dangled just above my navel. So now, the clamps could do their intended damage without the constant attention from Rev. I call it "passive torture."

Rev stood behind the camera and the tripod and moved it up and down, ever so slightly, then came in for a close-up of my face (clearly in agony), my torturous tit device, and the make-shift rawhide wrappings around my cock. With the camera in hand, he walked slowly around my naked body and recorded each mark and every flesh wound, finally stopping to spend a few extra seconds on the tip of the rubber tube that peaked out from my rectum.

"As you brotha's can see, he's older than what you're used to getting from us, but he's willing and very unusual. Look at these red thighs. These things are hot. Now check out this ass. It's nice and round, good for fuckin' and good for whippin'. See how white it is now? Just watch how the color changes after I take a crack at him. I'm gonna show you how to set it on fire!" Rev returned the camera to the tripod and moved it to catch my backside. A minute of so later he pulled a large and thick leather paddle from the toy box and placed the end of it on the center of my ass.

"Now watch as I run him through the paces with some of my favorite straps. He's got good endurance, and so should you if you're gonna be the one owning this boy."

And then it began: the slow rhythmic beating with the leather paddle. I don't, for the record, have "remarkable endurance" as Rev claimed. What I have is bondage, which doesn't require any endurance at all. It only requires that I maintain the act of breathing or maybe a heartbeat. But this was part of the game. Rev knew I was going nowhere, so he used my bondage as a selling tool, like a used car salesman trying to unload a '94 Cutlass by calling it a "classic".

"THHWAAAP THHWAAAP THWAAAP THHWAAAP THHWAAAP!"

And so it went. Again and again, Rev ripped into my butt with his favorite leather paddle. My legs buckled, and at one point I feared the ceiling might cave in on top of me as I tried to pull away. He ignored me, laughed, and continued.

"THHWAAAP THHWAAAP THWAAAP THHWAAAP THHWAAAP!"

Somehow he managed to concentrate every crack he took on the exact same place, dead center, just above the asshole. I could only imagine how red the flesh had become. I felt certain that the camera was situated to catch every square inch of the bloody hue.

As the day progressed, Rev moved from the leather paddle to a thick brown suede strap, which he used on my thighs; then he turned to a round wooden paddle, which burned large welts on my lower cheeks; and finally a thin piece of cane, which he used to mark my legs with a random crisscrossing pattern.

After each tool, he would stop to focus the camera on the damage. Narrating, always narrating, but also letting the lens tell the story that he was carefully carving onto my nakedness.

As I've said before, and as any real slave can verify, we have to figure out a way to disconnect at this point. We have to avoid, mentally, the real damage caused by the physical torture that we actually craved in the first place. So, I would like to describe for the sadists who are reading how it all felt, but I can't. I can't because I can't remember it well enough to describe it accurately. I can only say that at some point, it stopped, and I was glad.

"Let's give the guys an example of what kind of pussy you've got, boy. I think they'd be curious as to what a guy like you can offer once the lights go out, you know what I mean?"

Yes, I thought, I know what you mean.

Rev untied the ropes that connected the butt tube to my collar and let it fall to the floor. He grabbed the ring and ripped the thing from my ass, quickly. How my intestinal track managed to stay in place, undamaged, I'll never know, but I do know that I was glad to have that 18 inch rubber tube out of gut. My sphincter was in tact, but my insides, deep inside, were not in good shape, and I knew it. He didn't care.

"Now this one (he means me) can be a bit messy, so when you clean him out, you may want to be prepared. I suggest a small cleaning room or maybe a shed on the back lawn for that sort of thing. You certainly want to make sure you keep him out of your bathroom. You'll regret it. Now, I have him spread wide over a drain in the floor, which I always use for suckin' out the guts of my boys-in-training. You might think about that too, if you don't already have one." Rev walked around me, still filming, as he explained the ins-and-outs of how to douche out the guts of an "older" slave. Yeah, I know. It's gross, so I'll spare you most of it.

But on a side note: I've always thought it odd that in the world of gay porn, both visual and literary, the need to have a clean ass, and the acknowledgment of all that that entails, seams to have been scrubbed from the record. A man's asshole isn't exactly like a pussy. It needs grease to work properly, and let's face it, who wants a dirty cock? (Ok, don't answer that one.) But for all of you tops out there reading this, why don't you take the time to say a quick thank-you to all of us bottoms (slave or otherwise) who manage to go to such lengths to maintain the "illusion" for you. I don't worry about it anymore, because these men I serve are usually so obsessed with seeing it happen or with seeing it NOT happen, so I'm good either way. But for the rest of you... stop pretending and just deal with it. It's not THAT bad. If it were, you wouldn't be in the business of pursuing a piece of ass in the first place, right?

Anyway, Rev performed the ritual much like Master does: as a matter of fact and as a matter of necessity. I'll never understand how they manage to see it through or why they insist on doing it. I guess it's yet another way to remind me of how low I am in their minds, but still. I could think of better things to do if I were a Master.

With that said, it did feel good to have the old pipes freshened up. I did appreciate it, especially the warm soapy water, which always feels like a naughty plunge into a Jacuzzi at the gym. I don't mean to imply that I had "recovered" from the beatings, I hadn't. The pain from the tit clamps was still borderline unbearable as well, and the duct tape gag really needed to be removed, because it was starting to affect my breathing. Sadly, that part didn't change.

Once my ass was clean, Rev retrieved a sawhorse from the corner of the room and placed it directly in front of me and tossed a couple of quilts over the rotting wood. Using a small step stool, he reached up and cut my hands free, but quickly pushed me forward from the waist and tied me, spread eagle, over the horse. Damn, for an old guy, he was both quick and agile. Then again, I was all but dead from exhaustion, so the thought of fighting him off didn't really come to me when I had a chance. I was actually hoping it would make me feel a little more relaxed. Bent forward seemed better than dangling from the ceiling. Of course, my legs were still spread wide and anchored to the walls. I'm sure the whole scene appeared oddly uncomfortable to the clients.

As I previously mentioned, the warm enema felt great, but it also washed away most of the Crisco. Rev never bothered to replace it. He did, however, spend quite a bit of time shooting close ups of my red bottom and puckered asshole. Lots of descriptions followed of course. "Juicy" was a word he used several times, as well as "tight."

From my point of view, my mind was turning to other things. Suddenly I remembered how toxic his cock was. He'd fucked me before. He was rough, and I'd loved it. My cock, wrapped tight in rawhide, was dripping precum and growing by the second. Cock. I needed his cock. Rev's cock would make the pain go away. Rev's cock would take my mind off my tits. Rev's cock. Yes. Rev's cock.

Rev set the camera and tripod next to the set-up to give the advantage of a side view, then returned with his new friend, the cane rod. Oh God. I'd have preferred a wire-trimmed paddle to that damn stick. Again, the squirming.

CRRAAACKKKK! CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK! CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK! CRRAAACKKKK!

He delivered multiple pairs of razor-like lashes, quickly x-ing his way up one thigh, across the ass, down the other thigh, and on down to the upper calves. And then he repeated it, again.

CRRAAACKKKK! CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK! CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK! CRRAAACKKKK!

He should thank God he had me tied down and my mouth taped. I would have killed him were it not for that. He almost killed me.

Rev pressed his crotch against my ass, numbed almost completely, and placed the large pink head of his cock against the lips of my hole, which, surprisingly, was not very numb at all. I felt it. Wet, dripping with juice, and desperate to push it's way inside.

Please, I thought, please... push it in. Rape it! Fuck my ass hard and fuck away all of this madness. Please!

And he did. He fell fast against my backside, and his hard black cock shot past my sphincter like a missile and tore into my rectum. No mercy. His wet stomach melted into my lower back as he braced his hands on the sawhorse to keep his balance. My cock filled with blood as it fought to get free of the rawhide bonds, which were digging deep into the flesh of my ball sac and at the base of my dick. The lack of any grease didn't help, so the rim of my chute had now started to burn as if that missile had exploded.

"Aahhh. Now that's a tight piece of ass, my brotha's. As you can see, he's used to taking it however I give it to him. Oh, he'll fight you, yes he will, which makes it fun, but don't you think for a minute that he doesn't want it. He wants it. The boy's a cock whore and he'll take it good for ya every time."

He was right. I did want it. Rev's cock was so vile, so dark, and he was such a vicious fucker, that I couldn't help but crave it even more as soon as he buried it inside of me. That's the part I'll never really understand. It just seemed to belong there. I belonged to him, my ass belonged to him, but his cock belonged inside my hole. I could feel every inch of it. I could feel it in my neck, and my hands, and my thighs, and my shoulders, and my chest. I could feel it everywhere. It was completely viral.

Rev pushed and pulled his cock in and out of my ass. With every stroke, he'd let that pink head of his black dick come out, breathe, and then he'd force it back in again. Each time it stretched my rim wider and challenged it as it tried to fight off the assault. Each stroke felt like bullets, shot from a gun straight into my gut. The burning, the pressure, each ever more intense, took hold of me. More! I thought... This was why I was willing to be here, and why I might stay. MORE!

"Aaah, yeah... doesn't take long to break him down. Look at that ass. Hungry! Yeah, that's an ass that needs a good rough fucking. It's gonna need to be pounded hard at least once a day. And you're gonna need a warrior cock to take on this ass. Think about it before you contact us. This ass has to be fed and fed regularly. If that's what you want. This is your boy."

Rev was showing off my "skills," but he is also just a man, and he was hot now, like I was. He turned away from the camera and gripped my hips. No narration needed for the customer, just watch the demonstration...just watch the test drive.

Rev was desperate. His bloated cock needed to be emptied. His rhythm picked up... faster and faster... his groin slapped hard against the raw cheeks of my ass... faster and faster... the fat head of his cock had made contact with my prostrate, which had set off an explosion of nerves all over... faster and faster... I did my best to raise my hips for him... to let him know that YES this was it... this was why I was here... faster and faster... he ignored me.... pushed me down against the wooden horse as if to signal to me that no, we were not a team... Rev is in charge... we will not be "one" as we fuck... faster and faster... in his mind, this was a rape... faster and faster... Fuck me Rev... Fuck me harder... harder!... HARDER!!!

"AARRGGHH!" Rev's shot his load deep, coating the raw pink walls of my ass with a thick mass of goo. "AAHHH."

I looked down on the concrete floor in front of me to see a long thread of milky white jizz dripping steadily from my cock. It poured out like a stream of piss and puddled like mercury on the ground. Rev moved his hips side to side as he finished me off and pushed deep one last time for the final shot. God, I was spent. Totally exhausted. Thank you Rev. Thank you for giving me that thick slice of hot black meat.. Thank you for tearing me apart. Thank you for destroying me. Can I stay, I thought. Can I stay here, tied to this horse? Can I be the white pussy for your black cock? Can you fuck me again? And again? And again? Can I be your slave, Rev? Your nasty whore? The hole your dick fucks every morning? Can I?

"So you see, my brotha's, he takes it all. Did you notice how he responded? Did you see how his body needs that cock? He's flesh and blood to be sure, but really he's just a piece of ass, a nice tight piece of faggot ass that needs at least one daily dose of cock to survive. Lots of cock. The beauty here, if you want to use that word, is that he really doesn't need much else. So if you're looking for piece of tail that you can lock up in the attic, this might be the one. Throw him a sandwich once a day, wash his ass before you fuck it, and that's about all you need to do for this one. He's a low maintenance whore. He'd be a great buy for someone who needs to add to the collection. You need a second or a third piece of ass? You need some variety? You need a cheap piece to hand over to a special guest every once in a while? Well, here you go. This is the boy for you."

As he talked, Rev kept his hand on my ass, occasionally popping it with his open palm, as if to remind me, yet again, that he really didn't care much about me. I was just a piece of ass, a tight shitty cunt for his cock to visit every so often. And apparently, a piece of merchandise that needed to be unloaded on some unsuspecting stranger on the other side of the camera. On that point, I did not approve.

"Oh, and I think it goes without saying, but I he's a good urinal, too. And since I gotta take a piss, I'll show you that too."

Rev grabbed a wad of wet hair on the back of my head and lifted it slightly. With the other hand he ripped away the tape. I kept my mouth shut, knowing what might happen if I screamed. I'd had enough cane for one day. Thank you very much..

"Open up, bitch. You look thirsty."

I was hoping for a taste of that meaty pink mushroom, but I guess that was too much to ask for at this point. Besides, how could the clients judge my piss drinking skills if the cock was scraping the back of my throat? He was right, though, about one thing. I was thirsty.

"Now show the men what you can do. And keep that chin clean. I don't wanna see any piss on my floor." Rev let it fly. I opened up my throat and let it rush across my tongue and down into my stomach. It was steamy hot, and tasted like bitter herbs. I loved it and was repulsed by it at the same time.

"Nice. Yeah, real nice. Drink it up bitch. It's gonna be a while before you get much else."

As I swallowed Rev's piss, I noticed that I'd lost all control of my other hole. Rev's warm jizz was starting to drip from my ass, and it tickled somewhat as it made its way down the back of my scrotum. Frankly, I don't think Rev cared... and of course he wasn't really in a position to see it anyway. I was just glad that jizz was the only thing left inside... if you know what I mean.

"So there you go. As I said, he's not typical, but I think he's worth the price. You let me know if you want a second look, and of course, you're free to try him out for yourself if you think that's necessary. Goodbye for now." Rev turned off the camera, pulled on an old jock strap, and left the room with the tripod and the camera.

Rev was gone for while. I assume he was editing and emailing the film to his clients. The fact that his bank account seemed more important than my own comfort wasn't lost on me. I was still tied to the sawhorse, with the foul taste of his rank piss in my mouth and the feel of dried spunk on the lips of my ass and sac. It was a powerful message. The only thing I could do was to watch my own load dry into a hard shell on the floor. I was there for quite a while. To say that I ached all over would be an understatement.

This is the point I should make about being a slave, a real slave. After these men have used me, I don't get to walk away and take a shower and curl up on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee. Often, I'm just left there, bound, and feeling like an empty soup can or a rotting piece of lettuce left in the sink overnight. It's the hardest part to accept. The pain, however intense, always fades. The bruises always heal. The scars eventually disappear. It's the loneliness and isolation that is sometimes so disheartening and so permanent. I'm no one's lover, and no one ever treats me like one. No one really cares. I am, quite literally, a piece of garbage. (Willingly) disposable. Human waste at its most vile. I am nobody, but I like it. I just don't know why.

As is sometimes the case, I fell asleep, or maybe I passed out from the shock. Either way, when I woke, a partially dressed Rev was rubbing what felt like warm olive oil onto my skin. It smelled like olive oil. I was now lying on the cold concrete floor, but I was still sweating. My wrists were tied together with leather cuffs behind my back. How did that happen? The ropes around my ankles were gone, and thankfully, the tit clamps had disappeared as well. My cock was still wrapped in moist rawhide, but it was flaccid now, so it didn't hurt much.

The warm oil felt good on my skin. I wondered what time it was and what would happen next. I wasn't gagged, but he wasn't talking to me, so I kept my mouth shut. It seemed to be the safest choice.

As is often the case, the oil wasn't really meant to help me feel better. It was meant to keep my flesh from peeling off as Rev grabbed my ankles and dragged me across the concrete and stopped in front of a door. He opened it to reveal a closet; large walk-in sized, with a single overhead light, a sink, a toilet, and a mattress. Nothing else.

He pulled me in and motioned for me to role onto the mattress, which was sitting on the floor without a frame or even sheets. I did the best that I could, but he ultimately had to help. I really was a mess.

"You'll be fine here for now. I'll bring you some food, but the cuffs stay on, so you'll have to figure out that part by yourself. I suggest you stay quiet. It's not like anyone's gonna hear you anyway, but I ain't in no mood for your lip, so keep silent or I'll have to tape your mouth shut again. You understand? If you need to take a shit, you can use the toilet, but it don't flush and I ain't giving you no paper to wipe your ass with. You can do what you want as far as that goes. Now get some rest. I'll feed you when I get around to it. And keep your mouth shut. You can consider that a threat, because it is."

Rev left and locked the door from the outside. The room had no window, heat, or air conditioning, but the stale air felt good enough. I sat on the mattress for a while then moved to the toilet. I did need to take a shit. He'd cleaned me out really well, but the suction caused by the rape had knocked loose whatever was left deep inside my bowels. I sat on the john and set free the contents of my ass. The dark watery mix shot hard into the bowl. I stayed there for a while because the coolness from the porcelain seat felt good on my backside. Also, there was the need to drip dry, since I had no paper, and of course, no way to use it even if I did. My hands were still cuffed.

I then made my way to the sink. I finally figured out a way to turn on the water. It was cold, which was good. I put my head in the sink and lapped up the fresh liquid. I needed water. I drank as much as I could hold. I followed that up with a nap, falling asleep with the smell of my own runny shit floating in the air around me. I was spent. Death seemed like a luxury at this point.

The sounds of Rev coming into my "room" woke me. Groggy, I looked up to see a man who looked as if he were channeling a 70's porn star. Rev, in all his blackness, was wearing black leather biker chaps. His ass was covered, but the front was cut away to reveal a long soft cock, still framed by the silver cock ring. He was also wearing a black mesh t-shirt, 4-5 sizes too small, that was cut off just below his nipples. His gut was dark and dry and hung unceremoniously over the thick black belt that served to keep the chaps in place. On his feet, black square-toed leather boots with silver buckles. Each of his wrists was wrapped with a leather bracelet, trimmed in silver rivets. As I said, he looked like a retired porn star reliving the good old days. But for some reason, he was still very menacing and still extremely desirable. This wasn't a costume. It was like a second layer of skin. Clearly, he was very comfortable this way. This was the real Rev.

Rev was carrying two paper plates. He walked half way into the room and placed them on the floor.

"Dinner. Now get on your knees and bend over. That's how your gonna eat from here on. Get used to it. I want your legs spread wide, too. I'd like to get a look at your cunt to see what kind of damage I did to it. Hurry up, I got things to do."

I got into the position he demanded. On one plate was a mix of raw leafy greens covered in cold cooked chicken pieces. A thin layer of dressing coated everything. On the other plate sat a mix of fruit: sliced bananas, chopped apple, grapes, and a few strawberries. I think he emptied his refrigerator and this is what I ended up with. I was hungry, very hungry, so I didn't complain.

Just as I bent over to bite into the salad, Rev shot hot piss onto my ass, right onto my hole. Why not, I thought? Why not?

"Ain't nothing worse than seeing a shit stained cunt. Damn, I hate that, you nasty bitch."

The hot piss that dripped down my legs actually felt good. I can't explain it, but I felt privileged to have him piss on my "cunt." I know; it's weird. I ate as quickly as I could without choking. Rev stood there for a minute or so, then walked around to the other side of the room, leaving the door open. (Like I was going anywhere? No.)

I heard Rev unfastening his belt. I looked up from my plate in time to see Rev pushing his chaps down to his ankles. He grabbed his butt cheeks and then sat down on the toilet I'd fouled up earlier. I kind of froze for a second, a bit surprised.

"Keep eating. Like I said, I got things to do." Rev grinned and squeezed out a healthy load of shit. "Ahhh. Damn. Yeaaah."

I know, again, gross, and for me, unappetizing as well. But this is how it works, and I'm not going to hold back at this point. It's too therapeutic for me, so deal with it.

Rev sat there, watching me try to eat like a dog, until he'd unloaded everything he had. Then he stood up and walked over to me. On the ground next to the plate was a paper towel. He picked it, ran some water on it from the sink, then squatted next to the plate and wiped his ass several times, checking the towel after each swipe, just to make sure he was getting it all. He then walked back to the toilet and tossed the towel into the bowl.

"Now get over here, and be quick about it."

I walked on my knees to the toilet. He pushed his chaps down so that they rested on his thighs, and put one foot on the edge of the bowl. He twisted slightly and grabbed my head and forced my face into the crack of his ass.

"Wash my ass, bitch. And make sure you get that tongue up in my shitty hole and clean it up right. You leave anything and I'll rip you apart with that cane. Yeah, that's it. Do it right. Yeah... Yeah."

The smell coming from the john was beyond foul, so I tried not to look and instead focus on the task at hand. It actually didn't take long, and wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. It wasn't the first time I'd been forced to clean someone's hole. Master had done this to me as well. But with Rev, it seemed more sexual. Unlike Master, Rev was actually getting a hard on from it. This was one sick bastard.

After Rev left, I curled up on the bed with the taste of his stench still in my mouth. I looked down and saw that my cock was rock hard. I was so hot for more of this man's abuse. I imagined the pleasure of his cock in my ass. I closed my eyes and thought about the fucking he'd given me only a few hours earlier.

The erection wouldn't die. Rev's piss was still on the floor, so I rolled off of the bed and lay on the concrete. I pushed my cock into the puddle and let his piss coat my entire crotch. I rubbed my cock against the concrete as fast and as hard as I could until I shot a small wad into the warm urine that he'd used to wash my dirty ass. Unwilling to climb back onto the mattress, I just stayed right there, on the concrete, coated in piss. I slept like a baby.

I slept there all night. When I woke, my bladder was empty, and I found myself drenched in my own piss. I got up on my knees and crawled to the mattress. Wow, I thought. This was very comfortable. I stayed there, staring at the ceiling, high on the odor of human waste, until Rev finally came in. It was Sunday morning. Finally, it was Sunday morning.

Rev was still sporting his chaps, but was also wearing a white jock strap and tight fitting black t-shirt that was also cut off just below the nipples. He was wearing his glasses this morning, and he was carrying another plate. This one contained several pieces of buttered toast, cut into pieces, and lukewarm bacon. I ate my breakfast like a dog while Rev gave my cunt another bath of warm piss. If he noticed the extra urine in the floor, he didn't mention it. Nor did he say anything about the odor. Why would he? This was my natural environment now. It's what he thought I deserved. I'm sure he liked knowing that I was rolling around in his old piss puddles just to bust my own nut and then sleeping in it. He tossed a large white blanket onto the floor and moved it around with his boot. The blanket absorbed most of the liquid, and he casually pushed it outside of the room.

"You still working at that college?"

"Yes."

"And what happens when you don't show up tomorrow morning? Someone gonna go looking for you? Call the cops?"

"No. It's fall break. The students are gone, and my office is closed until Thursday. No one will notice. Why?"

"Huhhh. Lucky me." Rev seemed pleased upon hearing this, but ignored my question. I guess he was planning on returning me later that day, but now he didn't have to. I regretted my honesty. Really. I really regretted it.

"I'll get you back on Wednesday, but then you're gonna call into work on Thursday and let them know you're not coming back. You're done working at the college."

"WHAT!?"

"You heard me bitch. I said you're done. I got a couple of inquiries last night and I'll have your ass sold by tomorrow I figure, if not, we'll find someone who might want you. So you'll be leaving here soon. Might as well make a clean break. I don't need nobody snooping around asking questions."

"Look..."

"NO! YOU LOOK! I done told you I was gonna sell your nasty ass, and that's it. We ain't playin' this game no more. You ain't got a choice here. AND don't think I'm just gonna let you wander off and disappear. Paulus and a few others are packing up your place this weekend and selling whatever we think you don't need. What we decide you get to keep we'll store away at the motel. This deal's done been made. So shut the fuck up and start thinking about what you're gonna say to the boss when you call in."

"NO. NO. NO. Not this time. No one is selling anything I own. Now let me go. NOW."

"I'll let your ass go. When I'm damn good and ready. But when I do, I'll be headin' for the bank and your sorry butt will be in a cage on the way outta here for good. You GOT THAT?"

Rev bolted towards me and snatched me by the dog collar he'd left on my neck and jerked me off balance and dragged me over to the toilet. He pushed my head into the bowl, stopping just inches from the old shit. He then grabbed my waist and stood me up on my feet. He unfastened his belt and ripped it from the chaps. Before I knew it, he'd landed it across my thighs, hard. The cracking sound filled the room with echoes as he continued to attack me. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and braced myself as best I could.

Rev ripped into my ass and thighs relentlessly. This was a rage whipping. He wanted it to hurt and hurt badly. I'd had these before. I knew the difference.

"That's my old shit you're smelling bitch! And that's what you are. A shit-sniffing 'ho. WHAAAP! WHAAAP! How DARE you question ME! WHAAAP! WHAAAP! We own your ass. You gave it up months ago. WHAAAP! WHAAAP! WHAAAP! WHAAAP! You hear me? YOU HEAR ME YOU SHITTY COCKSUCKER!?"

"YES! YES! I HEAR YOU! JUST STOP HITTING ME YOU STUPID NIGGER. STOP! STOP!"

(Yeah. I had the same thought. Oops.)

Rev pushed me onto the floor. I shouldn't have used the N-word. Clearly, that was a major mistake. I looked at his face, and all I saw was raw animal fury. I was crying, aching, and my chest was heaving from the fear. Rev grabbed my ankles and pulled me out of the room and into the main space. He dragged me across the concrete to the center of his large empty torture chamber.

He helped my stand up, which was hard considering what I'd just been given. He took a rope and knotted it around the chain that connected to two leather wrist cuffs I'd been wearing behind my back. He tossed the rope over the pipe above me and tightened it in such a way as to lift my arms slightly in the air behind me while also forcing me to bend forward from the waist. This was wildly uncomfortable. Purely a military prison move on his part, and not meant to aid in any secondary pleasure a slave might experience.

Rev walked slowly to his toy box and returned with a small fat butt plug. He spit a large wad of snot onto it and pushed it into my ass. I screamed out, which only served as an invitation for him to rip on my ass with his open palm several times.

Rev walked out of the room and into the main part of the house. He left me there to deal with the burning shoulders that felt as if they might soon pull loose from the sockets. When he returned he was carrying a large heavy ottoman, the kind that one would find in front of a sofa or club chair. He placed it in front of me and had me kneel on top of it, which did help somewhat with the shoulder issues.

But Rev wasn't finished. He went into his toy chest and returned with a thick piece of leather. Not a belt, just a thick piece of leather. He then let loose on my ass with everything he had to give. Each blow was delivered with intense force. After each whipping he paused long enough for me to absorb it fully. He'd then catch his breath, wind up, and rip into me again. He looked like he swinging a baseball bat. Torture. Sheer torture.

I screamed out as loudly and as often as I could. If there were even a small chance that someone might hear, I wanted to take it. Someone please save me. PLEASE! But no one did. The screaming and the pleading did nothing to slow him down. Rev was not a man with a lot of empathy. He didn't care. He was going to beat everything out of me that went against what he wanted from me. Everything.

He whipped me on and off for over two hours. Occasionally he would take a break, drink a swig from a water bottle, piss somewhere, and walk around the room. Then he would start again. At some point, I finally stopped screaming. There was nothing left to scream about. There was no one around to hear me.

The whipping I received from Rev on that particular Sunday was by far the single worst beating I'd ever been required to endure. The bruises took weeks to heal. Had I been given this treatment earlier in my "career," it would have probably killed me. That's not an exaggeration. I can only assume that I'd developed some sort of tolerance for this kind of thing. That's not to say that it wasn't bizarre in it's intensity, but it probably saved me in the end. I don't recommend it. I'd crossed a line, but still.

After he finished, he cut the ropes and let me collapse on top of the ottoman. I was bawling like a baby. In a final act of contempt, Rev straddled me and pissed on the back of my neck, soaking my hair, and leaving me covered in urine, tears, and sweat.

This had been a horrible weekend, and a life changing one as well. In the course of 48 hours, I'd been caught in a thunderstorm, chained to the front of a truck, given to and eventually raped by two truck drivers in a rest stop, sold to and used by a gang of drug dealers, left naked in a public restroom, kidnapped by Rev, beaten nearly into a coma, been informed that I was to quit my job, and been told to say goodbye to all of my earthly belongings. I know. It sounds like a little too much to believe. But that really is what happened. My poor dead father would have been so proud.

Rev left me on the ottoman to recover, which took a while. During that time, he cleaned the john in my room by turning on the water to the flusher and scrubbing it down with bleach, which I appreciated. It didn't kill the stench completely, but it helped I guess. Anyway, he turned off the flushing system again, so I knew what the inevitable would be.

As for me, maybe he realized that he'd crossed some sort of line, too; the one that Masters aren't supposed to cross. Maybe. Aside from the standard whippings, which are brutal enough, I didn't receive any more serious beatings that week. He checked my bruises a couple of times, never apologized, but he kept it pretty clean after that... for what it's worth. Unfortunately, I'm not perfect, so as I said, I got more a lot belt that week, just not the coma-causing kind.

After a few hours in my jail cell, Rev dragged me out for a Sunday night ass pounding. Without a lot of pretense, Rev cleaned me out, pushed me onto my knees, right there over the drain in the middle of the floor, and without a drop of lubricant, gave my ass an extremely long and very dry fuck. I'd be lying if I said I hated it. I didn't, but I should have hated it, and hated him. I don't know how he does it, or why, but having Rev's cock buried inside my shitter, wet or dry, clean or dirty, just sends me over the edge every time. I'm not even sure if he knows it, but there is not another cock on the planet that does to me what his does. I think every slave and every bottom feels that way about someone. Rev isn't my actual Master, but his cock owns the dark side of my soul, without question. I'd drop my trousers and let him fuck me bloody in the pulpit of my own grandmother's church if I had half a chance. His cock is that addictive.

After he finally dropped his load, he had me squat until his jizz dripped out of ass and into his hand. He rubbed it onto my cock, letting it dry there, and then put me to bed. On this night, I had a blanket. He also removed the leather cuffs (finally) and the rawhide cock bindings. Of course, I was warned not to touch myself. He fully expected the dried cum to be visibly present the next morning. That was a tall order, because I really wanted to whack off with his wad as lube, but I resisted. I was grateful for the final fucking, and so I wanted to tell him that I wouldn't run, but he padlocked me into my cell before I could muster the courage to speak.

I woke up on Monday morning to the sounds of screaming and the distinctive echo of leather on flesh. Only it wasn't a nightmare, and the screams weren't my own. What the fuck? The door to my room was open, and I wasn't tied down or anything, so I quietly crawled over to the doorway and peeked out into the chamber. I couldn't believe it. Hanging from the center of the room was a young bushy headed blond kid, arms raised, and about eighteen years of age, if that. He was short (5'5" maybe), extremely thin, as pale as a ghost, and covered in red marks. Sitting in front of him was another young white man, prematurely balding, moustache, also small in stature, cuffed up in a familiar way, and sucking feverishly on the blond's cock. Rev was wearing a thick gold chain around his neck, black biker boots, and absolutely nothing else but sweat. His cock was full and hard as a rock. He was having one hell of a good time swinging his brown suede belt at the backside of the poor blond teenager.

I wanted to watch up close, but I knew I shouldn't. I'd never scene this kind of thing from this angle before. I'd only lived it. I was mesmerized. Honestly, I felt really badly for the kid, he was screaming for Rev to stop, but Rev wouldn't. His cock was hard though, which I could see as the bald guy bobbed his head on it. Did he like this? I don't know, but oddly, I kind of felt a little jealous, too.

To Be Continued...

I'll stop here, and publish the rest of the chapter in a few days. I know what some of you are thinking: "Great, another month!" No, I've written it already, but this chapter is much longer than most, so I'm splitting it so the folks at Nifty don't panic or feel the need to edit it. I apologize for how dark my life had turned for a while, and I hope it hasn't turned off too many of you. But the end is in sight, and I do actually end up in a good place. I'll tell you about that, too... in a few weeks. In the meantime, drop us a line. We always try to answer.

CXG