WHACK! 5 WHACK! 6 WHACK! FUCK! 7 WHACK! FUCK! 8 WHACK! FUCK FUCK!! 9 WHACK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!! 10
Nothing.
THANK FUCK!
Someone just beat my arse with a rubber strap. Whoever it was just beat my arse to a pulp testing And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Once they strapped me to the fuck bench, more like the spanking bench I quickly realized that I was completely immobilized with my arse slightly elevated like a practice target. I tried to get my mind ready for the assaults to come. But nothing. I could hear the barman being beaten as he moaned, grunted and shouted. I pictured his arse covered in red stripes from a cane or turning purple under a wooden paddle. I was getting a kick from his suffering. The masochist probably enjoyed the pain. The sadist in me snickered. Until a blow on my rubber arse made me scream in the gag. And from then my arse was constantly beaten. At the beginning I couldn't tell what was used on me, but after a while I could tell the difference between a solid paddle, a cane, a rubber strap or something else. The only constant thing was the pain in my arse. I screamed around the gag, I cried under the hood but my suffering was only pleasure for the bastards testing the toys and buying them. Or not. And from what I could hear the barman was going through the same. We were both dummies to test a beating toy on. It was not a punishment or pleasure session. Just something to practice on. And it was fucking humiliating. Both reduced to a tool. An object.
There were short breaks between the beating. Just enough to make sure we both feel the pain when they started again.
But the beating I was going through was different the others. Some were long and mild, others short and hard.
This one was evil.
Each time a blow landed on my arse I squeezed my cheeks as if trying to escape the beating. But the man beating me waited I relaxed my arse and the moment I did another hard blow landed on my arse.
Again and again and again.
WHACK! 19 WHACK! 20 WHACK! 21 FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!
I was begging for him to stop but to him it was only stupid mumbling. I tried to shake myself out of my restraints. To avail. The bench was to keep a pig in place to suffer and I wasn't going anywhere.
WHACK! 28 WHACK! 29 WHACK! 30 FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!
That blow was fucking massive, sending starts in my brain. I was shivering in my bonds from the pain in may arse. And I cried even more inside my hood when I felt the paddle resting on my back. It seemed the beating would stop. For a bit.
A hand padded my head and I felt someone getting close to my head.
`'Good piggy.''
It was Tony. Fucking hell. If my brain was blown with the intense beating, those too words were like a firework of emotions. Humiliation, fear, pleasure, need... I was sweating as fuck inside the rubber from the constant use, I felt I could move to ease the tightness of the restraints. But it was only an illusion in my mind. I lost track of time as I caught my breath and brought myself to relax.
From the muffled screams, the barman was going through a hard time too. We were definitely the two pigs with the hardest positions. Not that I envied the other pigs suffering their own version of hell. Hard bondage was as much a torture as pain. The more I relaxed the more my brain drifted thinking about the barman strapped just like me, thinking about him suffering just like me, thinking about making him suffer.
I imagined having my ways with him:
`Stored in a rubber bag hanging in the middle of the garage, heavy duty car clamps on his tits, an extra wide posture collar to keep his hooded head up and a very large ball gag stretching his jaws painfully. A rubber parachute" with pin pricks on the inside on his balls with heavy weights pulling hard on his balls, hurting them. His cock released from its chastity sticking out hard covered in heating cream and edged again and again, making him scream with frustration when the slow wanking stopped when he was about to cum. An electro plug coated in freezing cream set on high orgasm or shocks up his fuck hole. A constant torture, again, and again and again...'
A hard slap on my arse brought me out of my fantasy. That was not about to happen and I tortured myself for no reason. Maybe if I became a good pig, the biker would allow me to top another pig for his amusement. My locked dick liked that idea a lot. But for now I had to make sure to please the biker. Again and again and again...
I breathed deeply in relief when I felt the straps holding me being released. Four hands grabbed me, pulled me off the bench and set me on my knees next to it, my arms pulled immediately behind my back, my wrists locked in place. When the blindfold was removed I was saw the biker smirking down at me. He removed my gag and I was grateful for thee first fresh air getting in my lungs. I should have known that was not for free. He unzipped his pants, pulled his fat dick out.
`'Open up pig.''
As soon as my wide was open he pushed his dick inside the hole to empty himself. I just managed to seal my lips around his cock as the heavy stream filled my mouth very quickly. I really struggled to breathe and swallow until he shut my nose holes with his fingers cutting off any air supply. I swallowed his piss as fast as I could and when he was finally done I just gasped for air when he let me go.
`'Open pig.''
I opened my mouth again expecting more piss but instead he pushed a huge red ball gag in my mouth, tightening the straps at the back of my head to the maximum.
From my kneeling position I watched them releasing the barman from his bench, putting him on his knees, wrists locked in his back. When they removed his blindfold he looked at me. And this time there was no smirking glint in them. He looked as I felt. Exhausted. Used.
I was grateful the evening was coming to an end. My body and mind were completely fucked and I was looking forward to a good night sleep.
How stupid was I? I still had to learn that a pig only obeys and does not think.
The biker grabbed my collar as the skinhead grabbed the barman's and they dragged us towards the cage used to display the barman at the beginning of the evening. First they pushed the barman in the cage on his knees facing the back forcing him to bow his head to get in. Then they pushed me in the cage on my knees, my back to the barman. I was forced to bow my head too to get in. Once we were back to back they closed the front door forcing to shuffle backwards as it was very tight fit. Then they locked a chain from the barman's collar to mine. Then they put a chain from his wrists to mine. They passed the chains above the bars and made Sur that our heads and wrists were pulled up in a very uncomfortable position. That didn't seem too bad but I knew that slowly it would become pure torture after a long time in the same position. And the only way to get any relief for our backs and shoulders would be to lean forward pulling the other pig's wrists and head up.
A sadistic tug of war.
The shops assistants went about to release the other pigs as the last customers were leaving.
`'See you in a bit pigs.''
With these words the biker and the shop assistants disappeared in the back of the shop leaving the two of us cramped in the metal cage. Already trying to get more comfortable causing discomfort to the other. The barman was not going to make it easy on me and I was not going to make it easy for him. Soon we were both grunting in our gag and sweating like pigs in the rubber pulling on the fucking chains.
The bastards knew what they were doing when they put us both in the cage.
Two stubborn pigs.
A perfect mix.
Not good for us.
At the beginning we really fought against the other to get more comfortable, but after a while and a lot of useless fight we sort of came to a silent agreement and moved in turns giving some comfort to the other before getting some in return. That worked well until the men came back in the shops with some chairs and drinks.
Before they settled down the biker and the skinhead came near the cage and when they saw our silent agreement they just laugh. The skinhead grabbed some chains and in no time they have both tightly chained our collar to our ankles forcing our head down pulling the others pigs arms up. And no way to move. Not able to get any relief.
FUCK FUCK FUCK.
They ignored our grunts and moans as they enjoyed a drink chatting. We were like background music to us. Some sick entertainment. From my bent position I could barely see them but I managed to see the skinhead showing few things to the biker. Somehow I knew I would find about it soon enough.
After a long time the biker came to my side of the cage and the shop assistant near the barman.
`'Ok pig?''
I knew he wasn't really asking. I grunted a lot in my gag trying to make understand that I needed out and I was begging it to get me out. He just laughed. He knew exactly what I was trying to say but we were on his clock. And I would get out only when he decided to. Not a second before.
`'You like that rubber suit pig?''
He was really asking and I gave him the only truthful answer.
`'YEAHFFFFFFF FFIRRRR!!!!!!!''
That sent him laughing.
`'Good. You can keep it.''
I waited for the other shoe to drop.
`'This weekend is the shop and pub rubber weekend. They need some rubber pigs to work the event. They need mannequins for tomorrow during the day then bottle pigs at the pub. I volunteered you for all. You will earn that suit.''
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!!!!
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