All through the meal they talked to me about how much they're going to enjoy working me over later, how much I deserve to be punished, how important it is to give slaves like me a regular bath of pain to help us forget any pretensions or temptations to think we're just ordinary guys with kinky tastes. "Don't think of what's going to happen tonight as kinky. It's far beyond kinky, faggot. This is conditioning. . . . Formation. . . . Setting things right with you. . . . And deep down inside you know you're going to enjoy it. That is probably the most humiliating thing of all, Q: we're going to bully you and make you cry and probably sob, all for our own pleasure. And you're going to get off on most of it. And probably thank us for it some day. . . . . and ask for it to happen again."
It starts as soon as we leave the restaurant. Right away the have me on a leash and parade me around. They strip me naked right there in the parking lot and others see it happen. A couple linger before going inside so they can watch. And it's fucking cold. I keep almost pacing in place just to give my feet a break from the cold ground. The cold dirty ground. They obviously don't care how dirty I get. I didn't realize that Heinrich would make sure that I get good and dirty. He gets off on it. By the time the night ended I was a slimy filthy stinking mess covered in dirt streaks and body fluids, and the tears that roll down my face do nothing to wash away the dirt and grease.
So we get to the car and they toss me into the back. "Down on the floor. Naked boys don't sit in seats." I'm in the back with Craig and he looks a little nervous to me, maybe somewhat concerned about how far they'll take things. He plays with the hair on my head all the way to wherever we're going. "You gonna make me proud of you, baby?"
"Hope so, Master. Will prove to you how much I want to be your slave forever, Master." I tell him.
All the way there Heinrich and Austin are having a conversation in German. I'm such a pervert that the sound of the German language actually adds to the ambiance for me! I keep imagining that I'm a captive slave imported into foreign country and I don't understand anything about what they're planning to do with me and it's terrifying.
The truth is that I am kind of terrified, but dammit, I'm getting off on the feeling. I'm getting off on knowing that those two men are going to take me to the other side of hurt. The car slows down and turns into some parking lot, but I can't see anything because I'm on the floor in the back of the car.
"Are you sure you're willing to go through with this? I won't be upset if you want to back away from this," Craig tells me while showing me that smile that I find so goddam intoxicating. I'll go through anything at all just to keep that smile on his face. What a weird relationship we have! The best times are when there's a smile on his face and tears on mine. Maybe even some snot. He's showed me clips of me crying and sobbing. They look hot to me if I'm able to convince myself I'm looking at some other slave, not at me.
We're actually at a regular house, or at least it seems that way. Austin pulls the car into a garage—the type of garage attached to the house. I hear the doors slide closed behind us. Once the engine is turned off, Heinrich gets out and opens the back door. They must have discussed all this because as soon as he does, Craig reaches over and hands Heinrich the leash still hooked to my collar. And he pulls. Hard and fast and I'm actually being dragged out of the car and probably would have gotten hurt if Craig weren't working hard to make sure none of that happens, easing my way, especially when Heinrich pulls me out of the car and onto the garage floor.
Austin is there with a riding crop and between Heinrich pulling my leash and Austin cracking the crop against my ass, they manage to get me into the house pretty quickly.
House? . . . um. . . kind of .. but . . . . not like any house I've ever been in. Looks a lot more like a dungeon. All black, too, dark...blacklight blue...smell of leather...my hands get hooked together---that's why they had manacles put on me. . . . . I'm pulled up to my feet and chains raise me so high only my toes touch the ground . . . they lower it just a little . . . I can get on the balls of my feet, kind of, ,but it's a struggle.
Heinrich unlocks the cage and carefully takes it off me. This is the first time I've been uncaged in quite a while, I think. He toys with my dick until it takes its usual soft shape, maybe a little smaller than it used to be just because it was being crushed by the cage. . . . fuck: then he slaps my dick one way and the other with one hand while his other hand pulls my balls down and it feels like there's a tug of war going on between my balls and my neck stretched up high by the chain attached to my collar.
They've got good teamwork. Heinrich keeps slapping my dick while Austin works on my face and sometimes punches me in the arms. He puts clamps on my nipples and they don't hurt too much—at least at first, but they're weighed down so the pain intensifies. I'm making all sorts of noises but I'm not really sure what pain I'm reacting to and what part of my body hurts the most.
It's all relatively low-grade and I'm well aware of that fact, but I also know that it's only the beginning and I'm being prepared for what's to come. But then Austin's at me with a goddamn wooden spoon to the armpits while my arms are taught, pulled up by the chains attached to my manacle. I scream for the first time and Heinrich spits right into my open mouth. I keep it open. He keeps spitting. I swallow it down like a thirsty pig.
They toyed with me, too. Broke me down then put me back together. Attached heavy weights to my balls and made me drag myself around with my balls pulling the weight, spurred on by these thin leather whips they used on me. I spent most of my time on the ground, the same way Craig likes me. They enjoyed having me down there and having to scamper around trying to avoid the whips, forming a ball at one point which did me no good at all. My back and ass were targets. A few well-placed kicks kept me moving when I grew tired and wanted to just collapse. There was spit and even some piss that I had to drag myself through.
The final "game" of the night was the ball busting. Bad enough they were already sore from pulling that fucking weight around. Hands bound behind my back, me standing despite how exhausted I was, legs spread wide and kept that way with the wooden spoon beating my inner thighs. Easy kicks to my balls were followed by increasingly rougher ones. They got me to the point where I'd bend over a bit in reaction to the pain. They were experts at gradually escalating the torture, sometimes whipping my back when I bent over. This continued until finally I bend over almost double, then fell on the floor. They left me there for a while and I think I fell asleep until I was kicked in the face by a bare foot and ordered to lick it clean. you know that drill so I won't go into any more detail about it now, only to tell you that the foot belonged to one of the waiters who had cum in my milkshake. All three of them had been invited over after they got done with work.
Six feet and three crotches which were really smelly with all the greasy sweat that one gets when working in a restaurant. The guys were adorable and were totally grossed out watching Heinrich make me lick the sweat from where their legs spread, and, of course, the balls, and I was finally gifted with three fresh loads of cum. They didn't cum in my mouth, though. They shot their loads all over each other's feet and then made me lick up the cum from their feet. By that time I been so subjugated that I had absolutely no objection to anything they made me do. I realized that I was so despicably low that I would just obey Heinrich's orders to lick the boys clean without even hesitating. I did that gross stuff because that's how low a slave I was.
One thing surprised me, though: Neither Heinrich nor Austin ordered mt to lick the boys' holes clean. Thank goodness. I shudder to think what those buttholes must smell and taste like after the guys were working their asses off all night waiting on tables. But that just goes to show you how low I'd become: if they ordered me to clean those boy's asses, I would have do so without hesitating. Again, I do that terrible stuff that no one would ever agree to do if he has even the tiniest amount of self-respect.
I had none. They'd broken me.
THAT'S THE END OF THIS CHAPTER
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