Some? Many? of you want exotic stories to continue on, chapter after chapter, endlessly. But I don't do that. My stories have a beginning, a middle and an end. So enjoy them while they last. Plus read more of my stories on GayTies.com.
Sweet Robbie Becomes Family Slave Part 5 of 6
The Captain turned to Robbie and whispered, again, as if no one else could hear, but he was whispering into the microphone too. "So, Robbie? You make us all very proud. You know we want to bid on that underwear; hopefully, it will go for a high price. After all, this is a fundraiser. Now, and this is just between you and me, Robbie, right? You can get a lot more money if we disclose whose underwear those are. I mean, if they belonged to just some jerk on the street, we might not get even $10. They would be unimportant. Who would care? Who would bid?"
"Now, if we knew the owner of these briefs was a slave whore who craved to be humiliated, degraded, abused, and publicly stripped of clothes, morals, decency, pride, worth, and dignity... that's a different story. If the owner of these briefs surrendered all self-respect and control and sought to be used by everyone in this hall, then we have some very valuable underwear. Isn't that you? You are all boned up, excited, and ready, aren't you, Robbie?" He nodded. "Isn't your only function in this world to suck dick, eat pussie, rim ass, slurp up snot, drink piss, and beg for more?" Robbie felt light-headed and dizzy from hearing those words but still nodded in agreement. "Now, then, these briefs would be worth a lot. BUT, before we start the bidding, take this mic and tell everyone here who owns these briefs."
Robbie cried as loud as ever. He knew the Captain was right. Everyone in this room knew his inner truth. The only thing left was for him to admit it publicly so his underwear could achieve a very high bid. He couldn't stop crying. Everyone stood up, applauded, and cheered until Robbie calmed enough to begin to speak. The room finally felt silent.
"These briefs are very valuable because they belong to a slut, to be whored out. I love to be used even though it scares me to death. I am a sicko. I am ashamed and pleased that I am a degenerate. I am nothing without your approval. I hunger to do whatever anyone wants, even for the janitors of this facility. I'll do whatever it takes to please them. I am frightened, nervous, and need to be manipulated and pulled far beyond what I am now, without my consent or approval. I am such a sorry piece of shit. My only value is to suck your dicks and learn to do it properly as you like. Please, I can learn. I beg to eat all the beautiful pussies here and suck out your warm juices. I need to lick and tongue your toes and armpits and be punished harshly for the slightest infraction. I need to be fucked hard, painfully, so you receive the most pleasure. I need to be caged, bound, spanked, and made a public spectacle. I have no wants to be fulfilled, yet I find my task in life is pleasing you, all of you, any of you. I am so terrified. I need to be terrified. I am so afraid you will give me what I crave." Robbie fell to his knees and cried.
He received a standing ovation. The Captain came over to him, pulled down his zipper, took out his huge flaccid dick, and pissed all over the slave boy, his head, his face, in his open mouth, and the boy responded by accepting all that urine. He did not look away or close his mouth. He fucking loved it. When the golden shower was over, "Up you go. Now start the bidding."
The Captain helped the humiliated, sobbing, piss-soaked, clad-underweared Robbie up. "There, there. Robbie, we have your last item up for bid, but I don't think everyone can see it very well. Would you like to walk from table to table and model it close up to everyone? And let people check out your boner?"
Robbie just looked down at his bare piss-covered feet, whimpering like a little boy. Except he had a huge bone tenting his wet underwear. He nodded.
"Well? Are you sure? Would your parents, I mean Master Matt and Mistress Rachael, need to approve? Did they not train you properly to obey anyone on command? I thought your Mistress Rachael trained you better. Or did she fail?"
"Oh, God, my Captain, Mistress Rachael is perfect. She has trained me to comply. To obey, to serve all. She is the most wonderful Mistress I could ever have. Hardly a day goes by when she doesn't punish me, either because I did the wrong thing or because she just wants to show me more love. I hope I will always be allowed to serve her, Matt, my brother Master, Jamar, and anyone else." Robbie sobbed."
"Yes, of course, just as I thought. Now, ask me nicely and tell all of us what you need to do."
Robbie looked up, "May I please come to your tables and model my pissy jockeys for you? Please?" The Captain gestured for him to continue. "Please feel them, examine them, and see if you want to bid. I need you to want me.... I mean my Jockeys, I peed all over them, and I hope you like my pissed jockeys." Still, the Captain waited. "Also, please check out my cock. I am so embarrassed. It's getting so big; I can't control it. So please pull my underwear down and see if you like my cock. These jockeys may be more valuable because they contain a degenerated dick like mine. Well, they almost contain my dick." Some were chuckling.
Robbie was then allowed to walk from table to table. Guests at one table pulled the front of his underwear out and hooked the waistband under his dick and balls, so he was walking around with his dick trusted out like a stiff pole. No one ever tucked his dick back in. Even when he returned to the Captain, his dick remained on display.
"$1,000!"
"$1,500!"
Some Middle Eastern-looking man stood, wearing a jeweled turban and an ornate cape. "$10,000." There were no other bidders.
"SOLD! To Prince Mounir for $10,000." The room erupted with cheers and applause. The Price stepped forward and stood next to Robbie.
"Congratulations, Prince. We deeply appreciate your donation." He was Arabic and one of our wealthier members, but he wasn't a real Prince. It was just his club persona that everyone enjoyed.
"Of course, too bad it's just his underwear. I'd happily buy and add him to my harem." Lots of laughter. The Prince pointed to his sandaled feet and stared at Robbie.
The Captain whispered in Robbie's ear, and the boy immediately dropped down to his knees and kissed the Prince's exposed toes. Then, he proceeded to lick those feet all over, going beyond the whispered command. The Captain gestured for him to rise. And without asking, the Prince unhooked Robbie's underwear waistband from under the boy's balls, pulled the pee-soaked briefs down, and let them drop to the marble floor. Again, with some prompting, Robbie picked them up, bowed, extended both his hands, palms up, holding the briefs, and offered the prize to the buyer.
"Oh, yes, these are nice. And at such a bargain." The Prince said as he took them. "But, oh, wait, these are really soaked and dripping." Then the Prince looked at Robbie, still kneeling, and said, "Slave boy," that was the first time he was called that to his face. "Look up to the ceiling and open your mouth as wide as possible." The boy did. The Prince held the wet mess over Robbie's mouth and twisted the material to wring out as much pee as possible. Robbie has no choice but to not resist. Too many people are watching him. He had to swallow what seemed like a half cup of his urine. "Now, slave boy, what do you say?"
"Oh, thank you, kind Prince, thank you so much for using my mouth for a toilet." And then the boy sobbed. Throughout the event, Robbie had cried periodically, not because he was in pain or publicly humiliated, but because he was ashamed that he loved it. His tears were really tears of joy.
"I see our degenerate slave boy's big dick has started to leak again." Everyone looked to the huge TV monitors to see the close-up of Robbie's dick bobbing and twitching.
"I'm so sorry. I can't help it." Of course, this was all fabulous degradation and humiliation, which Robbie was being groomed to experience more and more on extreme levels. "Let's see. Slave boy, stand." The Prince gently rubbed the top of the tip of Robbie's vertical dick, making tiny circles and doing whatever he wanted to do to the boy. He certainly paid enough for that pleasure! Plus, it was all wild entertainment. After all, Robbie was the pre-assigned entertainment for the evening, offered by his parents, and Robbie did not disappoint!
It wasn't just the Prince who was an expert at edging; edging was a major fetish of the club. It was an erotic art form they all learned in seminars, used in sex sessions, and immensely enjoyed. Still, the Prince was one of the best. As the Prince's finger lightly danced over the tip of Robbie's dick, the hanging goo-string began to lengthen, stretching toward the floor.
"Spread your legs wide apart for me." Robbie complied. The Prince wanted clear access to the boy's asshole. Then the Prince touched Robbie's asshole but did not insert his finger, but rather gently scratching the ass lips with one of his nails. Robbie's body went into uncontrollable convulsions, jerking wildly. Again, the guests applauded and cheered. Robbie was jerking and twitching, but he was controlling nothing. He was merely a puppet. Others controlled his dick, his boner, his dripping, his sobbing, his body shaking... all of him.
"Oh, my, everyone," the Prince announced. "Come around and see how I, and anyone of you, can control his slave's dick facet." Quite a dozen guests came around for a close-up look. "Now, as I have him dripping his slave slop, please, line up, and each of you place a shoe or boots under his dick, so a few dribbles can land on it." It was amazing. "Now, line up here so our slave can lick your shoes clean." Strings of slave slime were dripped onto various members' shoes and boots.
The Prince asked Robbie, "Oh, look what you have done to all these members' fancy footwear." Robbie looked down and saw the mess he made. "Now, think hard. What do you say?"
"Please, may I clean all your shoes?"
There was more clapping and cheers as Robbie dropped to his knees a second time and began to lick the first member's red high-heeled shoe. He licked it all over. The next was a boot. Robbie moaned. Next was a leather street shoe, and so on. All the while, Robbie's dick remained stiff and leaking.
It was also sheer erotic torture for Robbie. Remember, this was his first visit to the Overseers Club, his first experience as a submissive to so many people, both Masters and slaves. This was his first experience being stripped naked and publicly humiliated. He was afraid of what he was becoming and felt so awesome to be part of it. AND so glad that it was over. He would return to his table, sit, and eat dinner with his parents and brother. He would no longer be the center of attention and could simply relax and savor a well-deserved meal!
Robbie stood there, waiting to be dismissed. Then, the Captain spoke up. "You are such a good slave boy. Are you ready to join your parents now?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you sure you have been of total service? Are you sure you want to stop your initiation? You don't want to join our club?"
Robbie teared up. He was so confused. He was so used up, yet his dick was still thrust upward, showing no sign of fatigue. He turned to his side and saw two burly men dressed in full leather carrying large wooden planks. Robbie stared at the commotion with trepidation. His head was slowly moving from side to side.
"I mean, my dear, sweet slave boy, are you sure you want to stop our entertainment? You do realize you are our entertainment. Do you want to disappoint all these people? I mean, they paid hundreds of bucks just to see you become a member here. Do you have those thousands of dollars to refund them all?" The Captain didn't mean it, of course. It is all for intimidating effect. The members knew what all subs go through at these club initiations. Robbie was the only one in the room who believed these ominous words. That's why these initiations were always such fun entertainment. And was Robbie, naked, boned up and stunned.
Robbie wanted to say yes.' But he couldn't. He wanted to say no.' But he couldn't. He stood there trembling and staring at the two leather Masters assembling something just a few feet away. Something he knew was intended for him! He sobbed. Everyone loved it!
The Captain fully embraced the naked, boned-up boy and petted his head like he was comforting a little boy or big dog. Robbie liked being held; it was comforting, but he never broke his gaze at what was happening.
He saw one plank, maybe seven feet long, lifted upright and set in some heavy-duty receptacle or hole in the marble floor. It set in with a bang. It was not going to move. Then, another post, the same size, was set into another hole in the floor with a bang. Now, these two seven-foot high, parallel uprights posts were locked in place about six feet apart. Lastly, they secured a thinner board horizontally across the two upright, about five feet off the floor. So, the configuration made an odd `H.' Robbie had no idea, but this goalpost structure had been used many times before. The floor brackets were all preset, and the board was all precut with pre-drilled holes. So, it was an easy assembly.
"You've been so good. We brought you a present," the Captain said. "Step over here. Come on, touch it." The Captain had to pull Robbie's hand over to the nearest vertical plank. "Here, feel it. It's for you. Would you like to try it out?"
The boy held onto the post and rubbed it to feel how sturdy it was. "These kind Masters are going to tie you to it." Robbie was shaking his head no. "OK, listen to me, they are going to tie you to it, but you get to choose with what. Rope or thread?"
"Rope or thread? I'll take the thread, please," Robbie muttered.
"OK, you choose the thread. Very well. And there will be no tricks. Here," and the Captain pulled out a common spool of white cotton thread from his pocket. "Here, take this." The boy did. "Pull out a foot and snap it apart with your hands." Robbie did. It broke easily. It was a common cotton sewing thread. "Now, see how easy it is to break?"
"Yes, yes, it's real." Robbie felt better. In fact, he was so relaxed his dick even went semi-soft for the first time this evening.
Rachael and Matt were watching and whispering back and forth. "You see, Matt, they always choose the thread. They always make that same mistake."
"Yes, dear," Matt answered, smiling, "If they only knew the rope was a much safer and better choice." They both laughed. As did the members. Everyone knew the thread was the wrong thing to pick, and they all knew why.
"Of course, it's just thread." The Captain told Robbie, "And when these Masters tie your spread-eagle to these posts, it will be with the thread, AND only one piece. For example, when they secure your wrist, they will not wrap it around and around and around many times. No, you'll be secured with only a single strand of common thread." Robbie now smiled. He felt even better. "So, this is OK with you, right?"
"Yes, sir!"
"OK, so, let me have your wrist," Robbie held it out. And true to his word, the Captain tied a single thread to it and left about two feet of thread hanging loose from that knot. He did the same with the other wrist. Just a single, easily snappable cotton thread. Robbie was glad to comply. Then, the Captain knelt and tied other threads to each ankle. Also, with a few feet dangling loose.
"Now, I didn't mention your neck, but watch this," The Captain tied a thread around Robbie's neck and said, "OK, now just give that thread a yank." He did, and the thread broke easily. "OK?" Robbie agreed and was happy to continue. He knew he wasn't going to be hurt or even truly restrained. He knew no one could be seriously secured with a single thread. It was some kind of a joke, so he was happy to go along with it.
"Great. Now, step to the center of the frame. Place your feet wide apart close to the base of the uprights." He did, no problem. "OK, the Masters will tie these threads to each bottom eye bracket." Now, the posts were six feet apart, and Robbie's legs were stretched out, so his feet were planted five feet wide. Hence, the extra two feet of thread are needed on each ankle to those posts.
Next, the Masters tied the wrists' threads to the eye rackets at the top of the uprights. Here, Robbie's hands reached all the way to the post tops. So, he was officially tied spread-eagled.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Masters, tie the neck thread to the center of the horizontal board." And they did.
Whoever controlled the camera image shown on the TV screens was capturing each thread being tied and Robbie's stretched-out body. "OK, now slave boy, are you comfortable as you are secured to the bondage frame?"
"Well, Sir, my feet may be spread a little too wide. I mean, they feel uncomfortable to be so over-stretched apart." Robbie complained politely.
"Perfect. Then all is in order. However, I will demonstrate your problem. The threads will break if you move your hands or feet more than a fraction of an inch. Right?"
"Of course, sir," Robbie smiled. "I can easily remove myself from this wood frame, easily."
"To be sure you understand, let me finish my demonstration. "OK, now I am going to pinch your right nipple and do it pretty hard with my fingernails. Your job is not to move. Are you ready?"
"Of course, sir."
The Captain pinched his nipple hard. Robbie jerked his arm down to cover and protect his nipple. And in the process, he pulled his head down and away from the frame. He snapped the thread tied around his right wrist and the thread around his neck. And as his body twisted, he jerked his left leg, which snapped that thread. It's all a common reaction.
"Masters, retie our slave with another single strand of thread to each limb and neck."
As the Masters did the retying, "Now, there is one thing I forgot to mention. You must surrender your body to me or anyone else who honors you with their touch. That means you must not move a muscle, or at least not pull on the threads. I guess you could wiggle your hips a little in frustration `cause that shouldn't snap any threads. But you must not move your wrist or feet or your neck. When I touch you, you must not move, not at all. Understood?"
"I... I... guess so," Robbie answered hesitantly. Robbie began to understand his predicament. Or is that his per-dick-meat? His mindset is to obey and not move, but his body may react on its own. How is he supposed to stay still? He thought some reactions were involuntary. What the fuck?
"Oh, and there is one more rule I forgot to mention: if you jerk in any way that breaks the thread, we immediately toss you out. You will be banished from the club, as will your parents."
"Mistress Rachael would be banned? And Master Matt? Oh fuck. Please don't do that. I will try my best not to break the thread, Sir."
Jamar was thinking, "What about me? I'll be his Black Master soon, like tomorrow. I'll take charge." Jamar wanted to get back for all the teasing and degrading insults Robbie dished out years ago. Robbie was acting playfully, but Jamar took it seriously. And now, soon, very soon, Jamar would also be an owner of this white slave bitch.
[There is a photo of Jarmar and Robbie, I posted in my GayTies.com profile which is the image Jamar was holding in his mind, thinking of how he would soon begin manipulating Robbie as his property, as soon as they got home. Log-in to this website (or join if you are not a member yet- it's free) then click on "Find Member" and type in my name, "Darkforce," then click on my photo albums. Jamar's though-provoking photo is there.]
"Trying is not good enough," the Captain said. "You must succeed. Now, if you were wise, you would have picked the rope, so no matter how much you twisted and jerked, that rope would not break. But you chose the thread. Now, you must use all your strength and willpower to not move because no rope will hold you still. YOU must hold yourself still."
"OK, let's try this one more time." The Captain began easy. He gently cupped Robbie's balls and wiggled his long, slender fingers to feather-tickle his perineum, the sensitive skin between the asshole and the balls.
Robbie did jerk his hips slightly, but more importantly, he pressed the backs of his hands tightly against the wood posts so he would not be tempted to jerk them away. He curled his toes to pretend he was grabbing onto the marble floor to remind his feet not to lift up in reaction. And he pressed his neck back against the horizontal board to fight the natural instinct to jerk his head down in a recoil.
A woman sitting next to Rachael tapped her arm, "Excuse me. My name is Gertrude. I don't understand why this is so different for your son. Why is everyone whispering, `he should have chosen the rope?'"
Rachael smiled, so proud that her slave son was doing so well. "Gertrude, you see, when Robbie is touched, tickled, pinched, or fingernails are raked over the sensitive parts of his body, it is natural that he jerks away from the touch. I mean, if someone pokes you sharply in the belly, your body reacts instantly and `automatically' pulls away." The woman listened intently to Rachael. "Robbie is not at all secured to the posts because the thread does not count as bondage. He has to force himself to stiffen and lean back against the wood posts with every ounce of strength. He must force himself to be and stay vulnerable. How delicious! Think about it. He is willingly holding himself spread-eagle! It makes it devilishly awesome to tease his body that is free to move but dare not move." The two women laughed.
"He is being threatened that if the thread breaks, he will be banned along with his folks. He believes that. Of course, nothing is further from the truth." Rachel continued, "This audience loves Robbie and loves his tears and erotic torture. One thing about Robbie's erotic nature is he has to be forced, manipulated and pushed into extreme public humiliation to be completely, erotically satisfied. He will always believe that he can't do what is being asked and can't be pushed any further, but you just watch his development over the coming months. We will embarrass and humiliate him far beyond this little demonstration."
"Very good, my dear slave boy, very good. Now, let's try a bit more," The Captain then took a large safety pin, about one inches long. He opened it and held out the sharp end for Robbie to look at. Then, he touched the sharp point to Robbie's left nipple without piercing the skin. Robbie's first instinct was to use his hand to bat it away. But he is learning not to move. He knows if he breaks the thread, he and his family will all be kicked out. Such wonderful torture. Instead, Robbie just winched and moaned. "Again, very good. Let's try the other one," the Captain said, and he poked the other nipple, just pushing the point against it, not into it. Robbie's face and body tensed. You could see his torso muscles straining. He wanted to shake his head `no,' but that movement would break the thread around his neck. "I am impressed. You didn't flinch much at all. And you kept your hands against the post, willingly. Do you see why rope would have been better? If you had rope bondage, you would not have to strain so much to resist moving. OK, I want to stick this pin into your right nipple. Would that be OK?"
"Ah... I... ah..."
"I'll take that as a yes." Then the Captain took a little prepackaged alcohol cloth and wiped the nipple, then pushed the pinpoint into the boy's nipple, let go of it, and let it just stay stuck inside. It was only a quarter of an inch in him, but Robbie took it and moaned. Vocalizing his frustration was about the only thing he could do without breaking any threads. "I must commend Mistress Rachael. She has trained you well. And it would also be a good idea for you to express appreciation to her." Robbie was not sure what to do or say.
"Well, should you thank Mistress Rachael for training you? I mean, you have a pin stabbing into you, and you are enjoying it, aren't you? You love that pain, don't you?" `Enjoying' this experience was not what Robbie was thinking. He does not understand yet that he craves this treatment.
Robbie was in a daze. He hadn't noticed that his dick was once again huge, stiff, and thrust upward. He held his head up and back to prevent the thread from snapping. But the entire room, via the close-up camera view, saw the boy's nice big dick, saluting them all.
"Thank you, Mistress, for training me. I love you so much. I don't deserve such kind treatment. I owe everything to you." Then Robbie sobbed in shame and embarrassment periodically during this humiliating spectacle.
"You know, my dear slave, I don't know if your behavior and submission tonight are sufficient to allow you and your family to be members, but I see you are trying, the Captain told him. "That's a good sign. Just to let you know, you must encourage me to torture you. I have to feel that you are desperate to be abused by me and anyone in this room."
"Sorry, Sir, for my poor performance. I'll do better."
"I know you will. Now, I was thinking of taking this pin out of your right nipple ..."
"Yes, please..." The TV screens showed close-ups of the boy's nipple as it was pinned.
"You did let me finish. I want to take this out of your right nipple and stick it into your left nipple. But I want to push it sideways through your nipple, complete, so the point comes out the other side, and then close it. After all, it is a closeable safety pin. Would that be OK?"
Robbie's dick was leaking slave slime. He was being so mind-fucked; that he did not know what to say.
"I won't do that if you don't want me to. But it would give me such great pleasure and joy. So, you'll have to beg me if you want me to fasten this pin to your other nipple. I mean, slave boys should be dressed up and proper, like whore slaves, right?"
"Oh, God. Please, please dress me up. I want to be a whore slave as it would please you. I want you, my Mistress, and everyone to be pleased with me. Please stick that pin through my left nipple and help me to be a proper slave for you all. I must. I need my Mistress to approve of me. I want you to train me. Oh god. Please, I beg you. Please abuse my nipples, oh, kind Sir." And he sobbed.
"Well... if you insist. But... on second thought, are you worthy of being abused?"
"Oh fuck! No, I am so unworthy, but please make me worthy, please use me, please do whatever the fuck you want to me. I fucking need it."
"And, of course, you will not move your hands or feet? Right? You won't move your head. You know the condition that you must not break any threads. Right?'
"YEEEESSSSS!"
"Well, you don't have to yell about." And the audience laughed. "OK." The Captain took another prepackaged alcohol cloth and swabbed the other nipple. He then removed the pin from his right nipple and pushed it into the side of the left. And pushed it all the way through. Robbie dramatically gritted his teeth. And then closed the pin.
"AHHHH, SIR, I'M GOING TO CUM! I'M SO SORRY. I'M GOING TO SHOOT."
"But slave boy, you need permission to climax."
"Please, please let me shoot." His body was trembling, vibrating, yet he kept his hands and feet where they were. "For god's sake, I must shoot."
"I'll tell you what, we'll take a vote on the matter. OK?"
"FUCKING, Please!"
As if bored, the Captain calmly asked, "OK, well, all members who want to allow this innocent, kind, loving, adorable, new slave to climax, please applaud.
The room was silent.
Robbie bawled out loud and cried and cried. His dick twitched and bobbed, and his body shook; he was sad and so happy at the same time.
"Oh, my slave boy, not a single member wishes to let you climax. But let me calm you as one Master to his slave can do."
The Captain stepped close to the boy and embraced him, careful not to snap any threads. He placed his hands on Robbie's crying face and petted him to comfort him in his extreme agony. He could not stop crying and could not stop seeping precum. His body was soaked in sweat. In his sinister ways, the Captain couldn't help fondling the safety pin and thumping it with his thumb. Tweaking it. Causing louder wailing. Yet, remarkably, with tremendous effort, Robbie manages to keep his hands and feet exactly as they were. He willingly kept himself vulnerable.
"There, such a happy slave boy. You love me, don't you."
In short breaths, "Yes -- sir -- I -- Love -- You -- Sir"
With one hand, the Captain continued to pet Robbie's head, and with the other, he now fingered the boy's crazed hair-triggered dick.
"So, I suppose you want me to place another safety pin into your other nipple, don't you?"
Robbie was finding it hard to speak; he wanted to just nod yes, but he knew the thread around his neck would break. So, in a horse whisper, "Yes, please."
"But I'm kind of tired. I was going to go and leave you alone. Maybe come back in a few hours. You're hard to take. I mean, you keep complaining and whining, and you even have the nerve to ask the member to be allowed to climax. Wow! What a selfish slave slut you are. We are trying to do you favors and dress you up like the whore you are, and you don't seem..."
Robbie was out of his fucking mind. He was crazy with need. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! I'M SORRY. PLEASE COMPLETE MY WHORE OUTFIT. OH GOD, PLEASE DON'T GO. I NEED YOU SO BAD. I PROMISE NOT TO SHOOT. I'LL BE GOOD. I'LL STOP WHINING AND COMPLAINING. I PROMISE. JUST DON'T LEAVE ME. I CAN'T STAND IT. OH GOD, FUCK. DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS. PLEASE LET ME PLEASE YOU TO THE FULLEST." Then, a release of tears and trembles.
"Well..." The Captain paused for a long time, pretending to think it over. "OK, but the only words I want to hear out of your mouth is "Thank you, sir."
"THANK YOU, SIR. THANK YOU, SIR. THANK YOU, SIR!"
The Captain took another safety pin from his pocket, lined it up to the side of the right nipple, pushed it through, and closed it. "There."
"Thank you, sir." Robbie was glad that was over. He was relieved. He felt he could rest. Two safety pins were there, horizontally through his nipples. So cute.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I don't think you all heard, but this slave had asked me if he could further serve in training others. I told him yes." Robbie didn't say anything, but he would have agreed if asked. Then, again, what a slave wants is of no significance. "So, who would like to help put this slave candidate in his place?" Many members raised their hands, but the Captain chose a dark-haired favorite of the club, Miguel. He was popular because he had Cerebral Palsy and was on 2 crutches. "Ah, Master Miguel. Perfect. Yes, make your way here." The audience applied 35-year-old Miguel as he struggled to approach Robbie. Here was a frail, disabled fellow, yet he was a dom. How powerful is it to be so physically weak and yet control a strong, muscular man?
"Well, Mr. Miguel, see our new slave boy? What do you think of these safety pins in his nipples." The TV screens showed close-ups of the pins through each nipple.
"Oh, can I play with them? Twist them and enjoy myself?"
"Well, why don't you ask our slave in training."
"Well?" Miguel said defiantly.
"Ah, please, Master Miguel, please play with my pinned-up nipples." He roughly grabbed one nipple in each little hand and twisted them clockwise and counterclockwise. Robbie nearly blacked out.
"Please, Master, I don't want to break the thread, so please be gentle."
"Oh, you mean gentle like this?" Again, he twisted and pulled on each very sore nipple. Am I doing it correctly?" Miguel teased, really torturing Robbie's slightly bleeding nipples. Crippled Miguel was a bit of a masochist. He enjoyed these moments of ultimate control and power over strong men, especially well-toned, virile teen boys.
Robbie was a senior in high school, fabulous in sports, and strong. Well this Master was very skinny and weighed no more than 120 pounds. AND Robbie had to surrender to his crippled up Master.
"AH. OWE. Oh, YES, my Master. Yes, perfectly. OWE!" Robbie wanted to quit, pass out, or die. More than anything in the world, he simply wanted to snap the threads on his wrists to cover his nipples to protect them.
"Owe, you say? Well, if I am doing it too hard, just cover your titties with your hands, and I'll let you. It's fine with me. You can cover your titties up, so I can't access them." Robbie sobbed. He sobbed at the cruelty of this little Master on crutches but could do nothing about it. "You stand there, all spread out, your hands up in the air like you are welcoming me to pull your titties off, pins and all," he giggled. "You are inviting me to have fun?"
He whimpered, "Yes, my Master. Please have fun."
"Well, that's a nice gesture, but I don't need your approval." Then he asked the Captain, "Do you have more pins?"
Without inquiry or concern, the Caption reached into his pocket and produced another two-inch safety pin. "Here you go, Master Miguel."
Master Miguel opened the one inch safety pin, and without asking for permission or any hesitation, he stabbed it through Robbie's septum where a nose ring would be inserted and quickly closed it.
"OWE! FUCK! That hurts!" The camera zoomed in again at the horizontal safety pin through the nose. There was almost no blood.
"Hey, slave boy, if you want to remove it, just go ahead. If you do, I won't put it back," he said coyly, trying to goat him into breaking the thread by reaching to unclasp the pin.
Robbie just stayed all spread out, hands held high, protecting the single white cotton threads that "bound" him.
"My, Master Miguel, you are an artist too," said the Captain. "Now he looks even more decorated. Fantastic." The audience applauded as Miguel carefully maneuvered on crutches, back to his seat.
"OK folks, I think this slaved boy has had enough of me. I could continue, but I don't want to overdo my training. He needs time away from me, and I think I need a well-deserved drink!" The audience applauded and cheered the Captain's fabulous show."
Robbie was so relieved. FINALLY, it was over. He'll soon be released from the wooden frame. He didn't need any help; he could just pull his limbs away from the frame and break all the threads himself. But he certainly needed permission. Soon, he'd be out of the spotlight and with his parents and brother at the table. Maybe there would still be some dessert left. So glad to be done. "What a fucking torturous day." He said to himself. But he did feel proud of himself that he never pulled on the threads. He did it. He succeeded. He was pleased and exhausted.
"Correction." The Captain called out. "I thought the slave and I were both tired and needed a break, but look here." The room went quiet. Everyone looked at the huge monitors. The Captain stepped to the side of Robbie, "Look what we have here," and pointed to Robbie's big, purple angry bobbing dick, still pointed upward. "Well, I guess I only need a break. This slave boy needs a little more attention, but not from me, from all of you." There was still silence in the room as the Captain pulled something made of shiny chrome metal out of a box. He held it up.
Most of you know what this is. Or at least you have seen one. It's a stainless-steel nerve testing tool. Doctors call it a pinwheel. They roll the sharp pinpoint edge to prick the skin to test the nerve reactions.
I guess you can say it is for pricks." Everyone giggled. Actually, it is for pricks and balls, and nipples, and underarms, and tongues, and ears, and knees, and buttocks, and ass cracks and between the toes, fingers, and... Well, you get the idea. But I will not demonstrate this on our dear, sweet slave boy. I want groups of 10 to come up all at once. Yes, come on, 10 of you. We will see if we can prick this prick to death!" More laughter.
A young, bare-chested man in a black chrome studded collar yelled, "Wait, this does not make sense. You want us to come up in groups of 10, and you have only one pinwheel?" That concern made sense.
"Oops, my bad." Then the Captain smiled and puffed out his chest, foretelling a joke. He picked up the box, opened it, and showed the audience its content. It was a box full of metal prinking pinwheels. "Yes, everyone in the group gets a pricking raking tool so the entire group will rake our slave's body all over, all at the same time. His skin will be in a super state of erotic fire." The entire room erupted in applause and cheers. "We never did this before, but his victim, I mean, our dear sweet slave boy, seems to be insatiable. Look at his dick dancing... ah... prick. It certainly seems to be begging for some... ah... a prick pricking." He was so right; Robbie was in shock. He did not understand everything. His only focus was that no matter what was about to happen, he would not allow the cotton threads to break.
As the first group approached, the Captain opened the box, took out a dozen metal pinwheels, and handed them out. "OK, folks, I want all of you to surround our sexed-up sex toy and roll these super-sharp pinwheels on any and every part of his body. And do notice how he is keeping his arms held high and out of our way. Obviously, he is asking us to work every inch of his body!"
The first group of 10 members all took their torture tool and assembled, squeezed around Robbie, extended the arm with the pinwheel, and rolled it along his skin every which way. There was such a commotion. No one expected this group assault, but they loved it.
As the Captain stood back, he watched a free-for-all happening. It was chaotic. The Captain was a leader and a true organizer and saw that some procedures were needed. "OK, folks, we need a little order here. Let's form smaller groups. I will direct you in an orderly manner. OK, now, everyone steps back. They did. Robbie felt a moment of relief. "Now, first, I want you two," pointing to a married couple up front, "to work on his dick and balls. Go ahead and begin as I continue to explain further. One of you roll your pinwheel lightly - and we all will do this lightly, at least at first - along the top of his dick, from the base to the tip, including the mushroom head. Then the other one will roll her torture tool along the underside of his dick from the tip to the base and over his balls."
Again, the camera zoomed in on Robbie, this time his stiff dick. Everyone could see the pinwheels in motion, one going up one side and the other going down the other. They eagerly began trying different paths for their roller wheels. "I'll refer to you as the dick workers."
"AHHHHH OOOOOH. FUCK!" Robbie couldn't take it. Little did he realize that his agony was just beginning.
"OK, you two, pointing to the bare-chest, collared lad and a mistress dressed in pink, "you'll be the ass workers. Go around his backside, and you will be using your pinwheel on his buttocks, but more importantly, up and down his ass crack. You can figure out who does what or rotate, But you must also include the back side of his hanging balls. Plus, occasionally rake your tools over the full-back area. It's very sensitive there also. This is a learning session, so experiment, all of you. They began to salivate as they lightly rolled their picking tools as directed.
"Now, we need a couple of chest workers." A bunch of people raised their hands. A Master and slave couple were chosen. "Great, your focus will be on his safety-pinned nipples and all over his chest. Don't forget, the belly is very sensitive too. So, take your time and see what areas cause him to tremble and shake. Remember, our dear, sweet, salve boy will need tremendous strength to allow you to prick his nipples and chest. So, at first, go gently to allow him to get used to the pricking. But, in another sense, his remaining still is his problem. If he'd only chosen the rope, he'd be free to twist and jerk all he needed to shake off pent-up stress and tension. But, as usual, slave candidates always choose the thread for their initiation. Poor boy." Robbie was getting a horse throat from gasping, moaning, crying, and mindless nonstop blubbering as they began.
"OK, now, we need foot workers. OK, you two gentlemen," referring to a couple of seniors in their 70s, both masters. He gestured for them to come closer. He wanted to tell them something in secret. "Look, you have a tricky role. Each of you will be at one of his feet. Now, his feet are planted on the marble floor and are tied with threads. Forget about the rule here. You'll need to lift each foot, one at a time, and use your pinwheels. So just break the thread and go for it. But only one of you can lift only a foot at a time. So, you must look at each other. If you lift his right foot and work the pinwheel on the sole, be sure to work it lightly and between the toes. The other one works on the top of the left foot. Not. The ankle is especially sensitive. Then switch so the other lifts a foot. Go back and forth. As for the threads breaking, that was just a rouse anyway, so who the fuck cares if the threads break. They both laughed, knowing it was the same with all slave initiations. They began their delicious work.
"Now, we need a couple who will perhaps create the greatest erotic torture. The underarm workers. But this includes the entire arm and hand on your side. Since you are tall, this should be great for you. Now, as I told the foot workers, he will immediately pull and snap the threads holding his wrist up. That's fine. Ignore that. But you can remind him sternly, `Keep your hands up high!' I'm sure he will try, but no one ever resisted lowering his arms. It's just human nature. Your task is most interesting because he will laugh, cry, and scream simultaneously. Interestingly, most slaves, at this point, will lose control of their bladder and begin to piss all over the place. Wonderful!
Sometimes they piss a mixture of urine and cum. It's so fabulous. So awesome. And like everyone else, experiment and try different strokes on the underarms. One other common reaction is that a slave can start to mumble gibberish, and his entire body will convulse. We have a 10 of you to sort of keep him upright, but at this point, how the fuck cares? He is our dear, sweet slave doll. So, you may begin."
Immediately, as they started your pinwheels on both underarms simultaneously, Robbie dropped his arms, snapping the thread, trying to close his vulnerable underarms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't. I am so sorry." Robbie went on and on.
"Keep your hands up high. You want to get us in trouble? Fucking stay still!"
"Sirs. I am so fucking sorry. I... I... I am so, so fucking..."
The two tall, skinny teen boys could barely hold back their giggles as they pretended to be tough bastards. Robbie tried so hard to keep his arms up, but the challenge was overwhelming. His body needed to protect itself from all the pinwheel attacks, yet the Captain ordered him to obey and stay still, no matter what.
He was in a state of extreme hysteria. One foot after the other was lifted, exposing his ticklish soles pricked-raked with the pinwheels. His ass crack was being rolled along and erotically tortured, as were his hanging balls, front and back. His pinned-up nipples were raked over and around, causing equal pain and pleasure. His underarms were assaulted mercilessly, being raked simultaneously with the sharp wheels on both sides. His dick was jerking as if nodding "yes," as the steel wheels rolled the length of his dick along the top and underneath.
Robbie's entire body was spasming uncontrollably. His hand and feet were no longer bound by threads, but he still tried to hold his arms up and his legs wide apart. He was mumbling incoherently, and saliva was dribbling from his mouth as he emitted all sorts of low-pitched, animalistic groans and screams.
Of all his reactions, the one the Captain was waiting to see was Robbie's over-excited dick begin to flow cum. Robbie's dick was not shooting loads of cum as one might have in any "normal" climax, but rather a unique, slow, and continuous flow of slave juice. Just before the 10-person pinwheel erotic torture began, the Captain had placed a bowl on the floor under Robbie's dick. And now its purpose was clear. It was there to collect that flow of cum mixed with some piss, the stream of saliva that worked its way down into the fluid receptacle, and the sweat dripping down. The Overseers Club referred to such body fluids gathered in this particular manner as the "Golden Torture Juice."
Robbie was unaware of time, place, people, or purpose of anything happening to him. His eyes were open, but he was not seeing anything. His mind was foggy, and he heard nothing but unrecognizable wailing. His body was jerking, twisting, convulsing, but he had nothing to do with it. Others were controlling all aspects of his life.
Robbie did not ever hear the Captain's orders, "OK, let's let the first team of 10 relax. Please keep your pinwheels as a souvenir. Have a seat and watch the work of this next team on the monitors. Now, you know what the particular pinwheel jobs are. Take fresh pinwheels from the box and choose who will begin anew on this slave's dick, ass, feet, underarms, and nipples. You saw the first group do excellent teamwork, so begin. Take your time. You also get 15 minutes before the third group takes your place."
One critical step was, at the end of each team's 15-minute slave initiation session, the Captain retrieves the bowl of "Golden Torture Juice." He held it up for all to see and then brought it up to the dear, sweet slave boy's mouth. Robbie just stared meaninglessly at it.
The Captain gave Robbie a huge smile as if coaxing a baby to smile back. Robbie grinned a bit. "I think you need some nutrients." Robbie slowly blinked a few times, "What do you say?"
"Thank you," he slurred it down.
"There you go." The Captain had to tilt Robbie's head back, letting his mouth fall open. Then the mix of cum, piss, sweat, and saliva, about half a cup, was slowly and carefully poured into Robbie's mouth.
"OK, the next team may begin."
By the time the third torture team finished its 15 minutes, Robbie had produced only a couple of tablespoons of Golden Torture Juice. Robbie awoke naked and groggy, lying on a red velvet mattress in the center of the floor area. His initiation was over. The monitors were showing him slowly recovering. He was being gently massaged and rubbed by serval brother slave members to calm and soothe his body, mind, and soul. They were using warm clothes to wipe his body down. Of course, they left the safety pins in his nipples and nose. It was not for them to remove those. He was allowed to sleep, which he did off and on, looking like a normal naked boy, except for the safety pins. The rest of the club members continued to conduct club business and have another round of Champagne.
About an hour later, when Robbie had recovered, Rachael and Matt were called to the podium and presented with Robbie's official slave collar. It was handed to Mistress Rachael. Then, dear, sweet slave boy Robbie was called to join them. The boy just knew to bow and prostrate himself to his superiors.
Rachel gestured for him to stand and present his neck. His Mistress fastened the collar around the boy's neck, securely locked with a snap. It could only be removed by the key that Rachael would keep. Robbie immediately crumbled to the floor to hug and kiss his Mistress' shoes. He became so overwhelmed with complete happiness that he burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably. Everyone applauded and cheered. Robbie was well-liked, so much so that he had a special unofficial title, "dear sweet slave boy."
You might think such a prestige kink club as this would have presented a slave collar with chrome studs and a fancy embossed design. However, Robbie was at slave level one. There were four higher levels to achieve in the coming years. So, his first official collar was simply shiny black leather. It didn't even have the traditional buckle, just the snapping lock. Mistress Rachael placed the key on a gold chain hanging around her neck, displaying her most precious piece of jewelry.
As we left the hall of the Grand Empress Hotel and entered the grand lobby, dozens of people were milling around, checking in, checking out, and sitting in the lobby sofas and chairs, waiting for whatever. And there came Matt, Rachael, and their son Jamar. All dressed up in high fashion. Jamar, with his royal blue velvet tux, was so sharp. If not for Robbie, Jamar would have been the center of attention as they crossed the huge lobby. But Robbie, walking behind them, was totally naked, wearing only his shiny black leather slave collar and displaying the safety pins in his nipples and nose.
What a fucking hot sight! Everyone - I mean everyone -- was dressed up, most in ritzy high fashions. And slowly meandering through these classy, rich people was TOTALLY NAKED ROBBIE! He had hoped his parents would hurry up to get out to the car quickly, but not a chance. In fact, Rachael saw another friend from her women's club, Karen. So she stopped to chat. All the while, naked Robbie stood still, looking down, knowing he was NEVER allowed to place his hands over his dick to hide it. He saw his dick bobbing and dripping precum on the lobby floor of the Grand Empress Hotel.
As she talked to Rachel about her upcoming vacation, Karen nonchalantly put her fingers on Robbie's twitching dick. She unconsciously and lightly rubbed the seeping slave gloo with her fingertips over its mushroom head. It's like when people talk on the phone and absentmindedly doodle nonsense on paper.
Karen never broke eye contact with Rachel as they calmly chatted. A couple of times, she brought her fingers to her lips and licked them clean but then returned her fingers to Robbie's dick and continued to casually touch it.
Neither Rachel nor Karen seemingly noticed Robbie's naked body trembling and shaking as he just stood with his hands to his sides. Robbie emitted a low involuntary, vibrating hum but other than his hair-triggered dick, he did not move.
Various people in high-fashioned outfits would briefly interrupt Rachel to quickly greet her and then continue to or from the parking lot.
In his lowest whisper, Robbie pleaded, "Misstres, I'm going to cum...I... I..." Still looking only at Rachel, Karen removed her fingers to lick them the final time, depriving Robbie of any relief.
"OK, Karen, we'll talk to you later," Rachel told her as they parted ways. Finally, Robbie's public abuse and torment had ended. THANK GOD!
But then... Rachel saw someone else she knew and stopped to chat with him...
To be continued...
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Can't Rachel give her "son" some respite from all this extreme public humiliation? Just a few hours? I mean, look what Robbie just went through. And now she getting chatty?
Now, here is where you can help. Write back and mention some slave rule that Jamar will make Robbie live by.