Storm Discovery - Part THIRTEEN - Slave Workout
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"Fun's over you fuckin' sluts...time for our entertainment! Get your slut collar on boi!" said Verner (Sir!).
The boi (I found out soon his actual name was Mark) grabbed the slave collar and put it on, staying on all fours on the ground. Schmidt-Sir grabbed a whip from a nearby wall and started using it on the boi's back and legs. He didn't flinch at all! This was obviously one really-trained boi!
"Did you have fun with the caged slut you bitch? Was it nice to have something lower than you for a few hours you fucking pansy?" With each question the whip struck, over and over. Although the boi didn't react at all, I found myself flinching with each blow, wondering if I would be next.
Schmidt-Sir came to me and removed my gag, ordering me to open my mouth. Once I did, he spit repeatedly in it and on my face, which was soon glistening with his fluid. I wasn't even a little surprised when he whipped out his cock next and started filling my open mouth with his piss, telling me NOT to swallow until I was ordered to do so.
My mouth filled alarmingly quickly, but before it could overflow Sir's supply ran out. Just to play, he stuck his finger in the pool he had created and twirled it around, mocking me as a bitch toilet boy, suggesting he should get one of those disinfectant smelling white things they place in urinals to add to my mouth.
I was carefully and slowly breathing through my nose...until Sir pinched my air nostrils closed with his fingers!
I struggled, fighting the urge to swallow the piss-pool in my mouth so I could breathe...he kept his fingers on my nose for about a minute, and my eyesight started blurring. Just before I thought I would pass out, he let go of my nose and ordered me to drink his piss at the same time. I did, sputtering a bit from the combination, but getting all of it down.
Their other slave boi's whipping was over, and Sir Verner had placed him on his back on a leather covered table up against the loft wall beneath a window. From a drawer, he pulled out a porn magazine and laid it over the slave's face, pushed his legs back and started fucking fast and furious. There was a monologue too:
"Fuckin' punk bitch boi...we should have left you in our cellar back in Berlin you piece of shit! You're getting uglier every day, so ugly I need a magazine to cover your nasty face and inspire me as I fuck your worthless pussy!"
There were ropes attached to burglar bars behind the bed, and Sir used them to keep he boi's legs in position. That gave him free use of his hands. And he freely used them to attach the meanest jet black tit clamps I had ever seen. A chain connected the two, And sir used it to pull himself forward into the boi's hole...I could see His tits pulled out several inches from his chest. And I could See sweat pouring off his face from behind the magazine.
Schmidt (Sir!) took me to a St. Andrews cross and quickly attached me. Then he inserted an inflatable gag in my mouth and pumped it up. From a chest nearby, he pulled out a bag of black wood clothes pins. For the next fifteen minutes he attached them to my body, one at a time, grabbing my skin as needed to provide a place for the wood to hold on. They ran the length of both arms and legs, but he save the bulk of them for my tits and cock and balls, which soon had starburst patterns around them, the pins pointing outward from each main point of contact.
I had played some with clothespins myself before my new slave life, and I knew they weren't especially painful when they were put on. It was after they were on for a while and the blood had left that part of the body...that's when removing them caused pain that is hard to describe. He left me on the cross, grabbed a camera and took some tourist shots for back home...then he wandered over to his home-boi slave and helped his fellow Master fist fuck the much abused german boi.
When he finally came back to me a good half hour had passed, and that made the removal of the clothespins an event of agony. He worked in a pattern, removing one from one leg and then the opposite arm. Removing one from my right ball and then my left tit. And, of course, he told me what he thought of me in his Heavily accented English:
"Fuckin' slut American slave! Do you know how lucky you are that I didn't leave these on for two hours? That's how long shit- boi over there asks me to leave them on...he is a true slave, not some weak make-believe part-time wanna-be!"
It took him a full half hour to remove all of the pins, and I was In agony for every second of that time. That marked the end of my weekend with the Germans...they put their own boi in the cage for collecting later and drove me (in the trunk, of course) back "home" to Master. Apparently they were satisfied with me, despite their verbal abuse...they asked Master if he was interested in selling me! He said no...indicating that if they doubled their price he might change his mind! They declined. I know now why Master raised the price... he already had an offer that high for me, and I was soon going to meet a new owner! =============================================
We're about at the end of this particular story... Watch for another chapter in a week or so. Meantime. Comments? Bamaboi2serve@charter.net