This story is dedicated to all the men who knew what I was before I did, and taught me to live the life I'd want to write about! If you enjoy reading Nifty as much as I'm enjoying telling my story, please make a donation to the website: http://donate.nifty.org/ Thanks to the many doms and subs who have written to say hello--I love hearing from you! Humbly, Danny: mrkonigssub@gmail.com
Chapter 11
The door to my cell slammed shut. I had just ten minutes to pick myself up off the floor and write in my journal, by the light of my desk lamp. If I were caught with my light on after that, it was explained to me, I would be severely punished. I took my pencil and filled in the page where it had been started, so it read:
"TONIGHT, BEFORE LIGHTS OUT, THE HEAD GUARD CAME INTO MY CELL AND FUCKED ME HARDER AND ROUGHER THAN I'D EVER BEEN FUCKED IN MY LIFE. ALTHOUGH HE POUNDED ME BRUTALLY, I WAS A GOOD BOY. I TOOK EVERY INCH, AND AFTER HE SHOT HIS LOAD, I did what I'd been trained to do after a breeding: I said, `Thank you, sir. Thank you for fucking this faggot so hard. Thank you for putting your alpha come inside me.'"
He had fucked me like a savage animal fucks, pinning me to the floor of my cell. With his powerful thighs wrapped around me, I was unable to move out from under him. His rough hands held my shoulders flat to the cement. I felt my skin growing irritated as it rubbed against the concrete, each thrust from his massive legs scraping me against the floor. He bit and chewed my neck as he drove his fat cock in and out of my boy hole, hammering away like a piston. Sweat dripped off of his muscular body, soaking me and the floor under me, until I was lying in a puddle of warm water. He growled like an animal in heat. I was amazed that a man who had already shot one load in me that same day could fuck with such frenzy and intensity. Mercilessly he bored into my ass for forty-five minutes, until finally I felt him tense up. He shoved his cock deep inside me, then released a torrent or hot cum, filling my guts with his load as he roared like a gorilla. When he pulled out, I could feel that my hole was still gaping open from the assault. I scuffed my boots fucking your faggot ass,' he said. Make em shine, bitch.' Hastily I licked his black leather boots, salty with his sweat, as he stood over me, panting and dripping. After a few minutes he pushed my face away with his boot and said, You got ten minutes, fag.' He turned and slammed the door.
Trembling with pain and fear, I barely managed to write the sentences to complete the journal entry when the light on my desk went out. In the darkness, I climbed back into my bed, soaked in sweat, bruised and scraped, my hole raw and filled with come. Despite the aches and pains I felt, my cock was stiff. I longed to touch myself just to experience something other than misery. I was exhausted and beat-up. Though surely no one would know if I masturbated, years of training would not allow me to play with myself. My cock, just like my hole, belonged to my owner. Wherever he was. I began to drift off to sleep, imagining being in Mr. Konig's lap again. I dreamed I was back in my master's home, serving and servicing the man who I lived with as a slave for the past five years.
I dreamed Mr. Konig was skillfully working his ten inch meat into my hole. In my dream he was in his full motorcycle leathers, his gloved hands gripping my waist as he slid his jumbo cock in and out of my greasy boy pussy. It felt so real. I could smell the leather of the tall boots, the thick quilted jacket, the pants with the codpiece removed. I could hear the sounds of his breathing quicken as he worked himself to orgasm. Just as he thrust into me, his swollen balls pressed to the edges of my hole, I heard the sound of a key turning in a lock.
I awoke from my dream to see the silhouette of a man in a guard uniform in my open doorway. It wasn't Hans--this man was trimmer and a bit taller. He had what looked like a tool bag in his hands. Before I could say anything, he swiftly moved over to me and put his hand over my mouth. He had on leather gloves; I could smell them and taste them. He put his face up to mine. I could just make out that he had a trim mustache and very short hair. Though I could see very little of him, I could tell that he was incredibly handsome. For some unknown reason, I was not afraid of him.
"Don't make a sound, Danny," he said, whispering. "We'll be in serious trouble if you do."
He leaned out into the hallway and looked left, then right, then closed the door. For a brief moment we were in total darkness, then I heard a click, and the room glowed with a faint red light. The man had a small portable lantern in his hand. He put a single gloved finger to his lips, silently instructing me to be quiet, then set the red lamp on my desk. With great efficiency, he took off his leather gloves and took out a thermos from the bag and unscrewed the top.
"Sit up, Danny, and drink this." he whispered.
I sat up on my cot, my bare feet touching the cold cement floor, still damp from Hans's brutal fucking. The thermos smelled like the most wonderful soup I could imagine. The handsome man nodded and said, "Go ahead, Danny."
As I began to swallow the warm soup, he said, "Drink it all. You're going to need your strength."
I was happy to obey. At that moment, it was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted. The man reached into his bag and took out a cloth and a glass bottle. He poured some liquid from the bottle onto the cloth, then knelt in front of me. "This might sting a little, Danny, so be a good boy and don't make a sound."
I nodded, a little nervous. The handsome stranger took the cloth and began to pat the scrapes on my knees, from when Hans had me pinned to the floor of my cell. There was a burn of alcohol, but I held my breath and didn't dare make a noise. The man continued with my elbows, then my shoulders. Finally, he reached up and gently dabbed at a spot on my forehead. I stared at him with wonder. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. "That's a tough boy." I smiled back.
The man took the empty thermos from me, then put it, the cloth, and bottle in his bag. He took out a pair of black latex gloves and a large tube of medicine out of the bag. He put on the black rubber gloves.
"Danny," he whispered, "I need you to sit on the edge of your cot and lean back."
I did as he asked, watching him squeeze salve from the tube and work it onto his rubber-covered hands until they shined in the red light.
"Now," he said very quietly, "hold your legs up and spread them."
I grabbed my ankles and held them back to my shoulders, so that my hole was exposed and vulnerable. The man knelt in front of me. Without taking his eyes off me, he gently caressed my chafed cock and balls with his warm, greasy hands. He worked my testicles and my penis until they were evenly covered with the salve. My sore skin felt soothed, then warm with pleasure. I began to get hard, and he kept his eyes locked on mine as my cock grew rigid. His stare held me in place as I became fully erect. Then, while his left hand held my swollen shaft, he took his right index finger and skillfully worked it into my hole. The pain I felt from Hans's aggressive pounding began to subside. He slipped a second finger into me, and I was filled with the most satisfying sensation. With precision he massaged my prostate and stroked my cock, all the while staring into my eyes. I was mesmerized. My once sore body was full of pleasure again. He smiled.
"There you go boy. It looks like you're making a full recovery. You'll be back to normal by morning."
He slid his fingers out of me and turned my body so I was lying on my back, stretched out on my cot. He took off the rubber gloves and put on the leather ones, then took the red light off the desk. He turned it off. In the dark, he knelt down beside me and patted my head.
"Be a good boy and get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."
Who was this beautiful, kind man? "Who--" I whispered, but he quickly put his leather glove over my mouth.
"Hush, boy," he said, and held my jaw in place. I nodded ever so slightly, and he let me go and went to the door.
There was a brief moment of light as he opened my cell door and looked up and down the hallway. Then the beautiful man turned and said, "Good night, Danny." The door closed, and he was gone.
I lay on my back in the pitch blackness of my cell, my body filled with pleasure, not pain. My nipples, cock, balls, and fuck hole felt radiant with warmth. I melted into a dreamless sleep.