Master Paulus - Part 8 Who's Your Daddy, Bitch
By: Christian Xavier Gartrip
(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)
I woke up early Tuesday morning to find Mark still asleep and still curled up next to me on our dingy single mattress. My wrists ached from Rev's constant use of leather handcuffs. He had padlocked us behind a heavy door in a room without windows. He knew we couldn't escape the room, and in addition, we had no real concept of where we were exactly, and of course, we had no clothing since Rev had kept us nude since we'd arrived. The cuffs were there to torment us and to remind us of what we were, and more importantly, what he was: our keeper.
Between my legs stood a massive piss-filled erection that needed immediate relief. I managed to find my way to the toilet without waking Mark, but the sound of my piss splashing into the dirty, shit-stained john woke him.
"Mind if I join you?" Mark was groggy as he stumbled his way across the room to stand next to me. His cock was equally bloated from a need to piss. I looked down at it and noticed the slightest of stubble on his crotch.
"You're going to be itching soon if Rev doesn't take care of that stubble."
"Yeah, that's probably the old bastard's plan." Mark didn't wait for his erection to soften so that his cock could hang over the bowl. He simply squeezed down and let the piss fly out of his cock and splatter on the back of the tank then drip onto the floor. Rev wouldn't let us flush our shit, so why worry about a little piss on the floor? Of course, we were pissing freehand, so any attempt to aim was probably futile anyway.
After spending a few more minutes attempting to drink water from the sink, we collapsed back on the mattress, oddly comfortable in our own filth and nakedness. We waited for something, anything, to break the monotony of our incarceration. We sat quietly, making small talk, for a few hours until Rev finally showed up to deliver brunch and baths.
Mark and I chowed down on the toast and fruit pieces that Rev delivered in two large plastic dog bowls. Rev stood quietly (naked himself) in the doorway as we ate, no sign or mention of little Ragan, and then had us follow him to the back lawn for bathing, teeth cleaning, and "hole flushing" (his words). After we'd been sufficiently scrubbed and polished, we were uncuffed and given the task of cleaning our cell, which took most of the afternoon.
So as boring as this all sounds to you freaks (and to me as I write it), this is how Mark and I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, AND Thursday. Yeah, fun stuff. There were of course, a few random and very secret blowjobs. Sitting around naked with another hard-up slave can make a guy horny, so Mark and I relieved each other a couple of times in the middle of the night to prevent detection. Rev came by to clean us, feed us, and on Wednesday afternoon he slipped his beefy cock in my ass for a very quick and somewhat unsatisfying fucking. Mark wasn't as lucky as I was, so he went without. He did get to watch me squirm as Rev took his pleasures. Feeling guilty, I gave him a nice lengthy blow and rim job to try to make up for his lack of hardcore stimulation, but I don't think it satisfied him as much as I'd hoped.
The only interested moment of note came from Rev's "request" that I resign my position at the college in preparation for my pending lifetime of constant servitude. Uh, that would be a no. Well, let me clarify. Rev and I actually had a brief conversation early on Wednesday while Mark cleaned out the shitty john and mopped the floor. I managed to convince Rev to "stay" my execution, and in exchange I would simply call in and claim some unused personal days. Being that it was fall break, this scheme worked, although the lady boss (whose Friday night staff meeting set this whole thing in motion just a few days earlier) did think that I was acting suspiciously. It did, however, work, and so I was now free to take a few more days to come to grips with the choices I'd been given. Mark had been right all along. Rev did back down, and I did have a little more power over my fate than I realized. But the question was still painfully obvious to me: Come Sunday, could I chuck my life and embrace the inner slave and all that came with it, or would I say goodbye and return to the world of yesterday?
Late Thursday night, very late Thursday night that is, and long after Mark and I had curled up for the evening on the mattress, we heard Rev fiddling with the padlock to our cell. We sat up, and a few minutes later Rev popped open the door and return the missing Ragan to our keeping. He didn't spend much time explaining himself, but then again why would he? He was the one in charge, so no explanation necessary. Rev simply pulled the kid inside the door by his arm and dropped him next to the sink. He looked at me only briefly, left us, and then locked away his collection of flesh.
Ragan looked beat. He had a few large bruises on his thighs and a couple of cuts on his butt, which I recognized as wounds that probably came from Rev's dreaded cane. His nipples were swollen and red; his crotch had a few razor nicks from a quick shaving; and his ankles were red and raw, all clearly indicating that he'd been restrained for quite sometime. He was still wearing handcuffs. These were the real kind, the metal ones I always dreaded. They were holding his wrists in place in the small of his back, and judging from the scabs, they'd been there for a couple of days. Ragan wasn't crying, to his credit, but his face was flushed, so I assumed he'd done quite a bit of crying since we'd last seen him. He couldn't speak either. He was wearing a ball-gag. I felt sorry for him... sort of.
"Damn, Ragan," Mark spoke first, "you look like shit. Good times with Rev?"
"Fuck off and eat shit you stupid cunt." Well, that's what I think he said, or maybe what I hoped he'd said. Basically he just mumbled through his ball-gag while his eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. He'd missed a few days of bonding with his teammates, so I think he felt like an intruder or maybe an outsider.
I can't say why I didn't pity this poor bruised bird any more than I did, but I assume it had something to do with age. Ragan was 20, Mark 28, and I about 40(ish). If I was too old for all of this, then Ragan was certainly too young. Much, much too young. Ragan never gave the real world much of a chance. He never even tried to finish college. He was far too wrapped up in Ben, their mall brigade of weirdoes and deviants, and their brief business venture that went sour as soon as Ragan fell in love. Yet clearly he liked all of this. I can respect that, but I just can't respect him for not giving everything else a chance first. Mark was right; he really was a supremely shallow young man.
"Ragan. Did Rev leave the gag in because he didn't want you talking to us?"
Ragan shrugged.
"Ok. Uhmm, do you think he'd mind much if we tried to remove it?"
Ragan's eyes opened wide as he nodded his head as if to indicate that we should probably leave well enough alone.
"Well, do you need anything we can help you with? You need to piss? Shit? Sleep?"
Ragan indicated 'no' to my first two questions, and 'yes' to the third. To be as frail as he was, he rose to his feet quickly, and I noticed that Mark also stood up from the bed as if to indicate that Ragan could have his place on the mattress. I didn't really want to give up the one comfortable place in the whole room, but Ragan looked pretty bad, so I stood next to Mark as Ragan settled onto our bed.
When I looked over at Mark I noticed that his cock was stiff again, and he seemed uninterested in hiding it.
"How's your ass, Ragan? Aside from the all those whippings, did you at least get some nice fat cock up your bum while you were away?" Mark again, just not letting up on poor Ragan. I think he was jealous that Rev had given Ragan so much attention.
Mark walked over to Ragan to inspect his cuts and bruises. He sat down next to Ragan on the bed and put his face on Ragan's ass and ran his tongue under one of Ragan's more pronounced scars. Ragan squirmed in an attempt to wave him off, but Mark wouldn't stop taunting him.
"You need some more cock, boy? Huh? You need a nice hot poke before you drift off to neverneverland? I got some beefy goodness for you right here, honey. How 'bout you and me, we go for a nice long ride, huh? How 'bout it?" Mark was mocking Rev a bit, but mostly just taunting Ragan.
Mark stood up on his knees and then crawled in between Ragan's legs. Ragan was on his stomach, so he couldn't use his feet to fight off Mark's advances. Mark was larger that Ragan, and stronger as well, so he had Ragan pinned in only a few seconds. Mark used his muscular thighs to pry open the kid's battered cheeks.
"Damn, look at that nasty, NASTY hole. Jeezus H Christ, boy. Who's been banging that poop chute? You got the hole of a cheap street trash, boy. Damn, somebody dun ripped into you hard, ain't they?" Mark was in full Black Master mode now, his voice getting deeper and deeper as he got more and more into it with Ragan. At this point I had to grin at the sound of it.
"Git over here bitch, and check out this faggot's hole. Damn, that is one nasty hole." I walked over and peeked down onto Ragan's opened ass. Damn, he really had gotten it rough from Rev. That cute little naval asshole I'd rimmed just a few days ago now looked like a cum-stained gunshot wound. I didn't know how many times he'd been fucked by Rev during his absence, but I could tell that Rev had filled him up with a nice full load just minutes before dumping him with us. Rev's jizz was just now starting to drip out of Ragan's ass. It was still fresh, still creamy. He really was a fuckable little thing. I will say that.
"I think I might just have to fuck you silly, faggot. What you think, Chris? You think ol' Mark should bust his nut one good time before putting the little cunt to bed?"
"Sure, Mark. Go ahead. Then I might have a go myself. I haven't had a good ride like that in months. I'm probably due one good piece of ass. Have at it. Just save some for me."
Once Ragan realized we were serious, he started fighting. He was not about to lie there and just take two more cocks without having a say in the matter. Well, and yes I'm ashamed to admit it, but I dropped to my knees and put Ragan's head between by thighs and held him in place as best I could (we were all fighting against our own cuffs) while Mark worked to get his cock into position.
A few seconds later Ragan's muffled and gagged screams vibrated through my crotch as Mark slowly pushed his cock into the kid's tight, worn out little shitter. It actually kind of tickled me, right in the scrotum. The little whore had a mighty powerful set of lungs; I'll give him that. It's a good thing we were all three cuffed or there would have a fistfight.
Ragan's started bouncing on the mattress trying to get away. When he did, he caused me to lose my balance, and I fell off to the side, landing hard on my shoulder on the concrete floor. Mark laughed and used the opportunity to fall forward, flattening both of them onto the bed. Mark pushed his cock deep into Ragan's ass and jammed it in hard as he pumped his hips in a style very reminiscent of my former Master, Paulus. I curled up against the wall under the sink, nursing my sore shoulder, and settled in to watch the show while waiting my turn finally to fuck Ragan's tight, nasty little ass.
"You like the cock, faggot? You like Daddy's big cock fucking the pussy? Huh? Yeah, take the cock, faggot, take that... big... nasty... cock!" Mark was almost deranged. He'd been used and abused and fucked violently so many times that taking on the role of 'top' was almost therapeutic. He certainly had the dialogue for it. "Damn, this boy's got a tight little puss. Yeah, suck it up baby. Take it. Take it! Take that cock!"
Ragan finally stopped struggling. Mark rose up from the waist, but managed to keep his cock buried inside Ragan. Something had happened. Ragan's inner whore had been activated somehow. What did it? The cock in his ass? The rape that put it there? The filth coming out of Mark's mouth? The accent he used while mocking Rev and Paulus and so many others? I don't know, but he was responding. He pushed his ass back onto Mark's cock and lifted his hips slightly as if to say, 'deeper, go deeper.'
"AH yeah. You like this shit don'tcha? Look at that ass, ah yeah... ah yeah... she wants it BAD. You like a big ol' black thang bangin' that nasty beeehind, huh? Huh?... You like my BIG OL' BLACK PECKER FUCKIN" YOUR NASTY ASS DON"TCHA BITCH? Ah, yeah. Ride it baby... ride that black cock... ride it!"
Ragan's hips were as high as a cat's in heat. He moved them back and forth as Mark gave him a nice slow deep fuck. Not what he was used to, but he really liked it. I suspect it reminded him of those old fuckers from the mall who rode his ass for 50 bucks a pop a few years ago. Slow, deep, and nasty.
"Bitch likes a big ol' black cock... ah yeah... ah yeah... take it baby... yeah... Ride that neeegro stick, bitch... yeah, ride the black pole.... Ride it baby ride it.... Ah, you nasty little bitch.... Damn.... Tighten up bitch.... Tighten up for your nigga.... Come on baby... tighten up that cunt... Leroy's gonna blow a big one baby.... Leroy's gonna pop that bitches cherry... tighten it up bitch... (slap slap slap).... Come on BITCH... I SAID ...TIGHTEN... UP... YOR... STINKIN'... CUNT!..."
(Ok, so here's the part that will make you think that I'm evil. I'm not, really. But I can understand why you'll think that after you finish the next paragraph.)
Mark never even had the chance to pop his pathetic little nut. Nope. He never saw it coming. I did. I heard Rev fumbling with the padlock on the door, and I knew he'd suspected or heard something that he didn't like. Maybe, he'd felt guilty for leaving the gag in Ragan's mouth, and he'd simply returned to remove it. That's possible, but I think he'd been standing outside the door for a while. I think he heard everything, or at least the loud parts, and I think he had no choice but to do what he did. Mark, however, might disagree with me on that part. Yes, I let it happen; I gave them no warning. No apologies. He deserved everything he got for his transgression. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
Rev grabbed Mark by each of his ankles and jerked him hard. He pulled him off of Ragan, out of his ass, and onto the concrete in less than a second. Mark had just enough time to shoot one quick glance in my direction as Rev pulled his limp naked body through the doorway and into the chamber. The look on his face was something out of a B movie. I tried not to, but I couldn't hold back a smile as he left the room. We all knew what was coming.
Rev came flying back into the room, not for Ragan, but for me. He grabbed my ankle as well and pulled me away from the wall. Rev dropped down on one knee and grabbed my cock with his bare hand. It was clean: no shit stains, no jizzy lube, no spit, and fortunately for me, no wood! I was both clean and soft. I would be fine. Rev seemed surprised, but nonetheless pleased.
"Git your butt out there. Make it quick." Rev pulled me to my feet and then pushed my head down, forcing me to bend at the waist. In this position, with my hands cuffed behind me, I toddled out into the chamber with Rev hot on my tail. He'd completely ignored Ragan, who was bawling and curled into a fetal position on the mattress, masterfully playing the victim role to avoid any further punishment from Rev. Smart kid, I thought.
I stood near the center of the room while Rev grabbed a role of duct tape. He pulled off a long piece and slapped it onto Mark's mouth, right on top of his moustache, ouch. Then he wrapped a second piece on top of that one and wrapped the roll around Mark's head three or four more times. Rev had his knee in the center of Mark's back to keep him pressed into the floor, just to the right of the drain in the center of the room. Mark couldn't talk now. He couldn't tell on me. He couldn't tell Rev that I had helped, that I had encouraged it, and that I was simply waiting my turn. No, I was safe. I wouldn't be betrayed; not this time, and certainly not by a slimy creature like Mark.
"Git over against that wall, and don't you make a fuckin' sound or you'll be next. Count on it."
I did what he said. Rev walked to his toy box and fumbled around for a few seconds then lifted a long silver pipe from deep within. The pipe, which I'd never seen before, had an ankle cuff chained to each end. He attached the pipe to Mark's legs, spreading them about two feet apart, immobilizing them. As Mark continued to squirm and fight, the chains and the sound of the metal pipe against the concrete echoed through the chamber, creating an eerie and ghostly mood. I would be lying if I said I wasn't spooked.
Rev buckled a heavy black leather slave collar around Mark's neck and then attached a long metal chain to the back of it. He lifted Mark to his feet and stood him in the center of the room. He tossed the chain over the thickest ceiling joist above and then let the end of the chain drop onto Mark's shoulder. He took a padlock from the toy box and locked the chain in place. Dare I say it? Yes, Mark looked as if he were about to be lynched... and he knew it. Had Rev had walked away at this point, and Mark had slipped or fallen asleep, he'd have hung himself. Death would have come quickly.
But Rev wasn't going to let that happen, because it would have prevented him from giving Mark what he clearly deserved: a punishment like none other. It was a whipping so brutal that to this day, when I think about it, I still shiver. Before Rev picked up the first belt, he took a long piece of black cloth and wrapped it around Mark's eyes and knotted it. Mark would not see what was coming. He would not even have that one small privilege.
As Rev prepared to teach his captor the ultimate lessons about fucking another man's slave while mocking the very Master who owns him, I watched Mark. Poor, poor Mark. That could have been me hanging there. The irony wasn't lost, believe me. I'd endured a severe whipping myself a few days earlier, but this one would be far worse. Mark sensed it. His hands were pulled together in a large fist and pulled tightly into his back. His shoulders were sweating, and his legs were already shaking from fear. He knew what was coming, and he was doing his best to prepare, to brace himself, to disappear into that zone I'd become so familiar with over past months. I think, looking back, that that is what saved him that night. There's no other explanation.
Rev selected a large heavy strap made of aged black leather. It wasn't a belt. It was a 3-foot piece of flexible hide attached to a wooden handle that was painted black and studded with a line of brass tacks. Like the pipe he'd used on Mark's ankles, I'd never seen this before. He gripped it in his right hand and examined its grain. Rev held his arm out over the floor, paused, took a deep breath, and then swung it vengefully in the direction of the slave. The leather flew through the stale air and landed firmly on the most delicate spot of a slave's backside: his upper thighs.
"THHWAAAAAAAAPPP!"
Mark's knees buckled as he started to go down. The chain ripped at his neck. Rev reached up and grabbed it to prevent him from hanging himself. Rev leaned in and whispered in Mark's ear. I couldn't hear what he said, and still don't know, but it kept Mark on his feet for a while longer.
Rev fidgeted with the handle of his tool, took another deep breath, and delivered another powerful blow to Mark's thighs.
"THHWAAAAAAAAPPP!"
Mark took this one without falling. As Rev repositioned himself, I looked at Mark's legs. From where I sat, I could see how red they were after only two swings from Rev. The Master took another deep breath. He seemed to be counting. He was timing these blows for maximum effect. 1...2...3...4... It seemed like a perfect 10-count.
"THHWAAAAAAAAPPP!"
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...
"THHWAAAAAAAAPPP!"
Again, Mark collapsed, almost hanging himself. Rev grabbed his upper arm and steadied him. He whispered again in Mark's ear, only this time he laughed when he pulled back.
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...
"THHWAAAAAAAAPPP!"
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...
"THHWAAAAAAAAPPP!"
After the tenth blow, almost on cue, Mark collapsed again. Rev tossed the strap and caught Mark as his body started to drop. He held onto him and steadied him. Rev took a black leather belt and wrapped it under Mark's armpits and buckled it in the center of his back. He then took one of his ropes and knotted it around the belt buckle and the ceiling joist. Mark was still chained by his collar, but now the additional belt and rope would keep Mark in place, safely. I suspect Rev just didn't want to stop again to deal with a collapsing slave. His rhythm was in jeopardy, and that just wouldn't do. Through his gag, I could hear Mark gasping for air, breathing heavily, and crying like a man on his way to an actual gallows. From the other room, I could also hear Ragan. He was still curled up on the mattress, crying like a baby, which I found a little ridiculous.
Rev took a break and walked around his captor. He was angrier than I'd ever seen him. He'd put down the leather, but he couldn't keep his hands to himself. As he circled Mark he would reach in and slap his cock, twist his nipples, and smack his face. He was trying so hard to control himself, but he couldn't. He would not be mocked. He wanted blood.
Rev was wearing one of his trademark jocks, a bright yellow number with a fishnet pouch. I could see his silver cock ring and his dick's pink head peeking through the yellow netting. He had several silver chains tangled around his neck and his favorite boots on his feet. He was certainly an unusual looking creature. It was intoxicating.
Rev finally stopped pacing long enough to pick up another weapon. He chose a bright red wooden paddle with a few large holes drilled into it. It looked like a piece of swiss cheese. Rev used the paddle on Mark's ass. He gave him 15 or so quick, hard smacks right above his asshole. "CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK...
CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK... CRRAACK..." and on it went.
Mark was jerking and jumping and trying desperately to get away from Rev's paddle. Nothing worked. It only made Rev angrier and more determined to rip him apart.
Rev hurled the bright red paddle across the room with such force that it dented the wall stud as it hit and crashed to the floor. He grabbed Mark's cock and pulled it hard then squeezed his nut sac, causing Mark to twist in agony.
Rev launched into a verbal tirade that went on for over 20 minutes. He stayed pressed closely to Mark, never releasing the guy's bruised cock and barked at him like a drill sergeant from the Army of Satan. I can't even begin to try to recount it. Just know that it was a full on assault. It was chilling. The verbal lashing alone would have been enough to send most men running in panic.
Rev pulled his cock from the yellow netting and pissed a heavy stream onto the back of Mark's legs. It dripped and puddled around Mark's feet. Rev picked up a thin black leather belt and went to work on Mark's calves. He whipped his moist flesh until Mark's calves were as red as his ass. Rev had worked himself into a thick sweat, but he wasn't slowing down.
Rev then slowly thwaaaked his way up Mark's legs with another weapon, a thin brown braided belt. When he reached his ass he stood back and started swinging wildly at Mark's backside. THWAAAK on his left cheek; THWAAAK on his right one; THWAAAK THWAAAK on his thighs, then his left calf, then again on his ass... THWAAAK THWAAAK THWAAAK!!!
Mark had all but passed out. His body was still jerking and tossing and swaying but with less energy and less life. Rev was beating him into submission, and Mark was giving up the fight. I'd been frozen against the wall, shocked at how violent it was, but unable to avert my eyes. I'd completely forgotten about the rape of Ragan. I'd forgotten why all of this was even happening.
Rev tossed the belt on the floor and walked quickly to where he'd left me, snatched me by my shoulder, and pulled me from the wall. Rev dragged me to the toy box. He gripped my neck and pushed my chest onto the box of implements, ropes, chains, and cuffs.
"Git your ass in the air. NOW!"
I stood up on my knees and aimed my open asshole at Master Rev as best I could. I was expecting a thoroughly painful ass whipping with his hands. Instead, Rev hocked up a large mess of snot and fired it onto my hole. He pushed it in with his thumb, roughly and quickly. I heard the elastic band on his jock slip past his hips and land on the top of his boots. He placed one fist onto my hips and gripped my cuffed wrists with the other.
"Take a deep breath, bitch." Rev let the head of hard cock touch the outer edges of my snotty hole, and then he pushed his dick inside, slamming his groin against my cheeks.
"UUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH was what slipped past my lips as Rev began to fuck me. I wanted to yell loudly and scream out, but I'd learned to bite my tongue. Rev fell forward onto his knees and let his thick chest and heavy stomach press into my back. He was soaking wet, his whole torso was heaving, and his heart pounding. I could hear him breathing, like a sprinter, in my ear; his hot foul breath seeped into my nose and filled my head, leaving me dizzy.
Rev never gives my ass much time to adjust to his cock. He started pumping his hard pole in an out of it from the moment he pushed his way inside. Rev grabbed my shoulders and pulled me further onto his raging cock. His fucking was fast and his strokes were short and sharp... in out in out in out.... quickly stabbing at my bowels.... in out in out in out... quicker.... quicker... Yes! I kept thinking, "go, go, go, harder, Fuck Me REV FUCK ME HARDER...."
"Tighten it bitch... tighten it. I need a quick one. I said TIGHTEN IT!"
I squeezed his cock with every millimeter of ass muscle I had. Come on, Rev, faster sir, faster!
"MHMMHMMMMMHAHHAAAAAAA!!!" Rev popped a thick heavy load in my ass as his hands dug into my shoulder muscles and his teeth bit into my neck. Aaah, I thought. I love this! I love this man's heavy hot cock! More!
Rev pulled out much too soon. My dick was dripping and begging for some relief too, but none would come. I heard the elastic band smack his waist as he pulled up his jock and tuck away his cock. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me off the toy box and dragged me into the cell. He scooped up an emotionally distraught Ragan and left. I heard his boots stomp past Mark and fade away as he carried Ragan to another part of the house.
A few minutes later he was back. He slammed shut the door to my cell and padlocked me inside. For a moment there was silence, then suddenly the violent muffled rants from Rev started again and continued for at least ten minutes or more.
I curled up in the warm spot left on the mattress by Ragan. I inserted my index finger into my asshole and coated it with Rev's spunk. I pulled it out slowly, sniffed the pungent mix of cum and ass, and then eagerly licked it clean. I let it sit on my tongue before it dripped down my throat. I enjoyed every drop of him. After I swallowed, I did it again and continued to feast on him until my ass was completely clean.
Throughout "dinner" the sounds of Rev's screeds, the meeting of leather against flesh, and the sorrowful, muffled cries coming from Mark continued for some time as I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke, I was alone. After toddling to the toilet to do what comes naturally, I curled up on the mattress again and waited. Rev brought breakfast and watched quietly as I ate from my dog bowl while he pissed clean my dirty asshole.
"Come on, let's git you outside. You stink." Rev led me on a leash past a crumpled and sleeping Mark. Rev had put him in the corner and covered him with an old blanket. Mark was still asleep, so I couldn't judge his mood, nor could I check out his new collection of wounds, which I'd been looking forward to seeing.
After a stone cold bath and soapy enema on a chilly fall morning, I was returned to my cell where I was uncuffed and ordered to clean the floor and toilet without the help of either Mark or Ragan. Afterwards, I was temporarily suspended in the chamber and received a fresh shave. This was the first time my face had received any attention in almost a week, and of course, my groin had a week's growth as well. Rev spent almost an hour on me as he carefully clipped and cut away everything that might displease any Master of his caliber.
When he was done, he finished me off with a black rubber cock ring, which he forced around my sac and shaft. He also gave me a new collar, recuffed my wrists with a less abrasive pair of restraints, gagged me with a rubber ball and strap, and left me to fend for myself in my cell. To his credit, he left the door open, which showed some degree of trust, and it gave me some nice fresh air to enjoy as well.
This is the part of permanent servitude that can be the most annoying: the waiting. I understand that no one wants to be sexualized 24 hours a day. I certainly don't, and neither do my Masters. But in my world, my issues, interests, and responsibilities aren't important. It's the difference between those of us who "live the life" and those who enjoy a good romp in a fisting swing at the neighborhood leather club every other weekend. Night and day. Night and day.
Rev busied himself first with Ragan, then finally with a sickly looking Mark. Each slave received a bath and a shave, and I started to think that maybe something else was up. After they were cleaned, my two compatriots spent time scrubbing Rev's large chamber. They swept, hosed, and mopped the entire space as if it were about to be inspected by the leader of some sort of Slave Nation. I wasn't far off.
After several more hours of waiting and a quick dinner of salad, fruit, and cold boiled shrimp, Rev ushered in two large and ominous looking black men, both in their mid-fifties, and dressed like televangelists enjoying their day off. Who were these guys?
Rev, dressed in black leather jeans, boots, and a long sleeve red t-shirt led them to the center of the room. They were talking softly, so from my position I couldn't really hear them. If I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed he was giving a real estate tour to a couple of perspective buyers. One of the men looked up at the ceiling and examined the hooks, ropes, and chains that dangled above them as if he were inspecting the owner's choice of appliances in the kitchen.
Rev's slaves, all three of us, were cuffed, collared, and chained to various wall studs around the room. We sat quietly and naked and proud of our shaved crotches and spit-shined skin. Well, I did, anyway. Ragan was hard as a rock and not hiding it. He looked like a chicken that was desperate to be decapitated and served up for dinner. Horny little fucker, I thought.
Mark, on the other hand, looked completely out of sorts. His legs! His thighs! His ass! Damn, I'd never seen anyone sporting so many war wounds and bruises. No cuts (so I guess Rev opted against the cane), no blood, no scabs, and no bandages. Instead, Mark's thighs and butt sported a mass of bright red flesh (still?!) and a set of bruises that were too numerous to count or describe. It was no wonder he was standing on his knees. Those things looked painful. It would be a while before he would sit down without wincing.
Mark wore a very heavy dog collar adorned with draped chains and silver studs, a set of tiny, painful looking tit clamps, and a black leather cock strap snapped tightly in place. The strap had two thin silver chains that ran from each side of his cock to his tit clamps and then further up his chest to his collar. The entire ensemble said, "Look at me! I'm special." None of it, however, detracted from the evidence of abuse he wore on the other half of his body, but it spoke volumes as well.
Rev and the other men ignored Ragan and me, treating us as nothing more than furniture. Rev walked toward Mark and unhooked his chain from the s-hook on the wall. He tugged and Mark followed.
"So here you go. He's all yours. I think I told you everything this morning about his behavior issues. I addressed it, 'cause I had to, but you might want to keep an eye on him. He ain't to be trusted around the vulnerable." Rev was referring, of course, to the rape and the punishment that followed.
"Yeah, well, unless he's got a taste for horse pussy, I don't see much of that happenin' any time soon. I suspect he'll be fine. We don't 'spect perfection, just obedience. He don't look too bad off though... not like I thought. He'll heal."
So these were his Masters, his new Masters! Damn, Mark lucked out and landed not one, but two men who wanted to abuse him. Lucky fucker. So I guess you'd like to know about them, huh? Well, ok. Here's what I know.
To begin with, I never got their names. The only time I've ever seen them was on this particular day. No one has mentioned them since, so I have no idea who they are. I did find out some things from their conversation that day, so I do know a little bit. Basically, these two beefy studs had been lovers for over a decade. They'd met while working for a large company, fell in love, divorced their wives, set up house, started their own consulting firm, sold it for lots and lots of money, and now live on a isolated ranch in North Dakota. Yep, North Dakota. That was the most shocking part of their story. I was unaware that anyone actually lived in North Dakota at all, and certainly not any gay black people. Apparently they like horses and have taken to rescuing abused or unwanted animals from neighboring counties and states. They had an interesting lifestyle. Their ranch was miles from any other homes, so they rarely saw anyone else, and they liked it that way.
As for a slave, well, it seems that at some point in their "marriage," they discovered a mutual interest in kink and bondage. The only problem is that they are both natural tops (which I would assume proved limiting in the bedroom), and so to keep their love alive, they sought out playmates to amuse them. When they relocated to their ranch, they were forced to "think outside the box," which led to some web surfing and the discovery of Rev's website a few years ago. Mark is the first available slave to meet their physical requirements, which I assume means that they like geeky looking bald guys with facial hair, Jewish features, and annoying personalities. Whatever.
As I said, they were both in their mid-fifties. They resembled each other in the same way that couples often do. They were about 250 pounds each, roughly six feet tall, dark skinned and hunky. Very hunky. They seemed to have similar personalities as well: quiet, brooding, intelligent, introverted; all qualities that have proven to be common in most of the Master types I've run across, with the exception of Ben, who is down right chatty compared to most.
One man wore jeans, a denim shirt, a suede bomber jacket, and cowboy boots. The other seemed more "golfish," and was dressed in black slacks, a striped knit shirt, expensive driving mocs, tan golf jacket, and a black leather overnight bag on his shoulder. They were wildly self-assured as they stood above the kneeling Mark, and I would bet, very wealthy as well. I expected them to be more hands-on and excited over the purchase of their new plaything, but they were too slick for that, and too reserved.
"You like piss, boy?" The man in the jeans and boots was standing in front of Mark with his crotch in his face. "I hope you can hold the piss, 'cause if not, we're gonna have us a problem right off the top." Mark nodded and opened his mouth as if to invite a drink.
"Stupid bitch, you ain't listening." The new Master lifted his left boot and placed it on Mark's shoulder and pushed him into the concrete. He moved the boot to the back of Mark's neck and held the side of his face against the cold floor. I could see Mark's face. He stared directly into my eyes as if to say, "I'm not sure about this, help!"
The golfer-looking member of the pair unzipped his shoulder bag and pulled out what can only be described as a standard issue frat house beer bong: a large, oversized funnel attached to a long plastic tube. Seriously. A fucking beer bong.
Golfer Master bent down and reached between Mark's legs and grabbed his cock then tugged him upwards onto his knees. He plugged Mark's ass with the end of the tube. With one hand, he unzipped his fly, reached in and pulled out a long fleshy black cock (mmm, nice) and plopped it onto the edge of the large funnel and released a load of fresh golden piss.
As the piss filled the funnel and slowly dripped down the tube and into Mark's bowels, I stared at his frightened face. He seemed terrified. I've no doubt that this was his first piss enema. I'd had a couple from Paulus, but never from a stranger. Mark's expression told me that that he and I were thinking the same thing: if this is how they treat him at the pick up, what on earth will it be like back on the ranch? Heh. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.
Golfer Master dumped his entire bladder into Mark's ass and then dropped the funnel back in the bag. He pulled a very expensive looking scarf from around his neck and folded it into a square. The Jeans and Boot Master removed his foot and pulled Mark to his knees by his collar. Golfer Master placed the scarf onto the floor between Mark's knees and directly under his ass.
"That's one hell of an pricey scarf, 300 bucks. I see even ONE DROP OF PISS OR SHIT on it and I'll give you some real bruises to cry about. You got that, faggot?"
Mark nodded. I was behind him. He had squeezed together his black and blue cheeks and was holding on for dear life. Pity, but he was successful in the end. I was hoping for another whip session. I guess that tells you a little something about me, and about my thoughts on Mark, huh?
The men wondered away and signed some papers, turned over a large briefcase of cash, which the Jeans and Boot Master has left sitting near the door of Rev's chamber, and packed up a few belts that Rev claimed had been purchased for Mark's ass, and Mark's alone. There was no mention of anything else that belonged to Mark. No personal items that needed to be loaded, no clothing, no "stuff". Mark was to leave with only what he was wearing, which as I've described, wasn't much.
"We need to get the faggot loaded in his cage. We got a long trip ahead of us, so I guess we need to get going. That camper we borrowed don't go fast, but it rides well... might have to think about getting us one now that we're a threesome. We've got plans to stop at a campground in Tennessee for the night, so we need to get on the road."
While Jeans and Boot Master laid out his travel plans for Rev, who nodded absent-mindedly while fidgeting with his briefcase of fresh cash, Golfer Master placed a plastic mixing bowl between Mark's legs and picked up his precious scarf.
"Let it rip, boy, we gotta get out of here." Mark let go and a rush of shit-tinged piss squirted out of his ass and into the bowl, with a small amount dripping down the inside of his thighs. I thought the whole thing was kind of nasty. But the really sick part came when Jeans and Boots Master picked up the bowl, sniffed the contents and then dumped the entire mess on Mark's head. He shivered from the shock as it hit his shoulders and dripped down his back. Poor guy.
The Master grabbed his collar and lifted him to his feet, then pushed him forward so that his chest was parallel to the floor. Mark didn't look around the room or attempt to say goodbye to any of us, he just scurried out the door with Golfer Master in front and Jeans and Boots Master behind holding tightly to his new leash.
Goodbye Mark! I don't think of him often, and I've never heard anything from anyone else to indicate his current whereabouts or level of contentment with his Masters. I suspect he gets a lot of thick black and juicy cock in his ass, though. His Masters oozed both raw masculinity and steaming sexuality. I would doubt that either wore clothing very often once back at the ranch. They also seemed not only to be sadistic, but joyful about it. As I write this, I assume that Mark is sitting in a cage somewhere, in need of a bath, and patiently waiting to be double-fucked before his Masters retire to their own bed for the evening where they will fall asleep in each other's arms. I hope Mark is happy with his choices. He certainly gave up a lot to live his life on a horse ranch in the middle of Nowhere, ND.
It was some time before Rev finally came back to the chamber. I feel certain that there had been a lot of chitchat and thank you, thank you, thank you. They had, after all, left Rev and Co. a tidy sum of cash to store away. I hope Mark left them plenty of instructions on how to manage their affairs, because the chief banker, and co-conspirator, was gone forever.
Ragan and I glanced at each other a few times. I noticed that Ragan was still suffering from a tiny boner, and I suspect that he was craving another taste of something (being the little whore that he was). Neither of us, however, felt brave enough to speak to one another. I suspected that Rev would be in a good mood though, because he'd just experienced one pay day and was on the verge of at least one more.
When Rev did finally return, he stowed me away in my cell without a lot of fuss or ceremony. He took off my gag and uncuffed me at least. I was still locked away alone with nothing to do, no one to talk to, and no paper with which to wipe the shit from my ass. It was almost Saturday, which meant it was time for Ragan to say goodbye. Rev seemed to like Ragan. And yet again, it was Ragan who was dragged off to Rev's bed instead of me. Was I too old? Was I too masculine? Not petite enough? Not blond enough? I drifted off thinking about how nice it would be to switch places with the young kid. I imagined, as I sat curled up in the dark on the old mattress, how Ragan was lucky enough to be buckled into a comfy king sized bed with a nice black cock ripping into him. Nice thoughts, even if they did come from a bitter and jealous 40 year-old man.
On Saturday morning, I woke up to find the door open again to my cell. It felt later than usual. 10am? 11? I heard voices in the chamber, but was unsure what to do. Did I have a Master waiting to pick me up? Would I be forced to go somewhere against my will? Or was it Ragan who was leaving?
It was Ragan. Rev sensed that I was awake, and he dragged me out into the chamber. He didn't chain me to the wall, but he did leave me sitting next to the toy box he'd fucked me on earlier in the week. He left the cuffs off to, which my wrists really appreciated. The only thing I had covering me was a collar and my cock ring, the rubber one that Rev had given me to wear. I should have felt naked and exposed, but I just didn't anymore. I'd been naked for 8 days and counting and hadn't yet even felt the need for a pair of socks. I'd never really thought about it all that much, but I liked it. I didn't want to wear clothes anymore. Had they won? Had I given in and just not realized it yet?
So there he was in all his glory: the man who had arrived to take Ragan away from everything, the man who was going to "take care" of our much sought after man-boy. Ragan was already down on his knees, sucking the Master's rod. That's what I'd walked in on: the Master receiving his first blow job.
Ragan's new Master was Ace, a nickname I assumed, and he was in no way as cool as his moniker might suggest. Ace was every bit as skinny as Ragan, but his shoulders were much broader, which was good, because he stood about 6 ft and (at least) 4 inches. What made him odd looking, aside from the 28-inch waist, was that his legs were much longer than they should have been and his torso shorter. He was oddly out of scale. Ace was jet black, partially grey haired, and 66 years old. He seemed very happy with his new purchase. As the pale petite slave sucked his man's cock, Ace looked down approvingly while Rev stood behind Ragan, rubbing the kid's blond locks as if he were a dog performing a really nifty trick. I thought I'd stumbled into a playground for perverts and the boys who love them.
To his credit, Ace owned a massive schlong, stereotypically normal for a tall, skinny black man. It stood straight out, fully erect, maybe about 10 inches, and Ragan was clearly enjoying it. I thought back to Ragan's navel-shaped asshole and wondered if he'd given any thought at all to just how painful it would be to have to take that puppy dry, which I felt he would certainly be doing quite a bit of in the next few weeks. I guess he thought about it, but decided to worry about it later.
Ace was as oddly dressed as he was shaped. He wore a black leather blazer, a white tuxedo shirt opened to his nipples, and tight dark jeans that were tucked into a pair of black knee high motorcycle boots. Rev was in the same black leather jeans he'd worn the day before, boots, gold tit clamps, gold bracelets, and nothing else. His gut was large but muscular. He seemed proud of it. It was very sexy.
Ace pulled his cock out of his boy's mouth and handed him something to wear. Ragan stood up and rubbed his bald thumb-sized cock, which was harder than I'd ever seen it, and took the gift from Ace. Ace bent down and slipped a thick silver cock ring on his boy's tiny penis. Then Ragan stood on one foot as he slipped on a white satin jock strap that was trimmed in expensive thick white lace. Ha! This was a shotgun wedding! Ragan was a mail order internet bride. HA!
Old Ace didn't just want a little white slave boy to fuck hard with his 10-inch cock, he wanted a little wife to clean up, do laundry, and cook dinner, too. Poor Ragan, at 20, I doubt he even knew how to start a microwave. He seemed happy though, in his wedding garb, so who was I to assume he'd be miserable?
Ace pressed his crotch into Ragan's back and rested his large black hands on Ragan's shoulders while Rev stumbled through Ace's favorite Woodsworth poem. He was clearly uncomfortable with Ace's display of affection for the little white stranger who was to be his slave and, apparently, his wife. After the poem, Ragan got on his knees and slipped a heavy gold cock ring onto Ace's semi-hard cock, then licked clean the precum from its head.
I wish I could tell you that all of this moved me, but I found it silly, as did Rev. At one point he looked over at me, wanting to grin, but refused to break his expression of contempt. He saw me smiling, which didn't bother him too much.
Ace did cuff Ragan with a set of standard metal bracelets, which killed the mood somewhat. Ace then opened two briefcases of cash and carefully counted out an obscene amount of money. He paid Rev 85,000 dollars for his little blond piece of ass. I think he thought he got a bargain. I found out later that the record was the 125 paid for a Korean national about two years ago by a retired professor/writer outside of Boston. Ragan's price ranked second. I've no idea what the ranchers paid for Mark, but I doubt it was more than 50... if that.
Ace used a pocketknife to cut the satin jock from Ragan's waist. It fell to the ground and stayed there. Rev tossed it in the can later that afternoon. The little naked boy was led out in cuffs, collar, and leash and placed in the backseat of a large silver minivan with tinted windows and Mississippi plates. Rev had me follow along and sit against the wall. As soon as they pulled out, Rev grabbed the hose and started my morning bath. Time to move on.
The chilly fall air and cold water shrunk my cock to the size of Ragan's. I didn't care about that. I liked that Rev and I were alone in his house again. I like being outdoors, exposed, and being washed and cleaned out like an old dog by his aging Master.
"Lean over and grab that wall, I need to git a piece of tail." Rev was pretty blunt. He wasn't angry, just direct.
I turned around and faced the brick wall and bent over with my legs spread wide so that Rev could see my cunt. He rubbed his thumb over it, and then popped my ass 6 or 7 times with his palm to give it that nice pink color he prefers. I heard him unzip his leather jeans and push them down onto his hips, allowing just enough room for his cock to fall out. He put his cock's head on my hole and pushed it inside. That fat pink mushroom felt so perfect as it stretched open the ring of my cold tight sphincter. He left it there for a few seconds and then pushed the thick shaft inside of my chute. It was stiff and warm. My own cock boned up even as the chill bumps spread over my thighs. Rev left his cock buried until I'd adjusted to it, which he rarely does, then he pulled it out completely and started the process again.
Rev wanted a long slow outdoor fuck. He pushed his thick beefy dick inside of my ass and withdrew it again, over and over, until he couldn't control himself anymore. At that point he pressed himself closer and wrapped his arms around my chest and pushed his cock as deep as it would go. He locked himself into place and moved only his hips, like a piston, riding my ass as fast as he could. His hips pounded against my butt as his cock went deeper and deeper into my gut. When he came, he screamed out, letting his deep voice bounce against the wall of his house and echo through the thick forest of trees that surrounded his property. The force of his spasms pushed me hard into the brick wall. I felt the cum in my own cock building up and then suddenly explode onto the brick, which caught me totally by surprise.
Rev pulled out, zipped up, and started to walk away. If he'd noticed my orgasm, he didn't mention it.
"Squat down and squeeze my spunk out yor ass. I don't want that shit all over the floor later." Rev stood on the porch and watched me strain until his cum had dripped out of my ass and onto the ground. I wanted to hold it in and save it for later, when I was alone. That wasn't going to happen.
"Now git back inside. We got some decisions to make."
CXG