Bitch-brian, Part EIGHT
Bamaboi2serve@charter.net
I got the bois over to the shower area and had them wash up from their initial action. Brian helped wash bobby, and then they switched places. These were open showers at one end of the barn, and a few guests came over to watch. I figured the least I could do is give them a little show.
"Hey bitch!" I called brian as they dried off, "what do you call that thing between your legs?"
The bitch blushed bright red and mumbled a reply.
"Can't hear you bitch...what is it called?"
"My pee-pee," he said loud enough for those nearby to hear.
"That's right, bitch, your pee-pee. And not much of one is it?"
"No Sir."
"Is it hard now?"
The bitch blushed even more. His cock wasn't huge, but it wasn't tiny either, and it was clearly about as hard as it could get, sticking up toward his head at a sharp angle thanks to lots of things, including the viagra and the stimulation of bobby washing him and the crowd.
"Yes, Sir, its hard Sir," bobby replied.
"Here, put this in," I said as I handed him an eight inch long butt plug from my travel bag.
During all of this, bobby was just standing there watching, equally hard for the same reasons.
"Bobby, give your sissy sister a hand...get that thing in him."
Bobby didn't pause a second, probably glad it was brian and not him being impaled by the toy, which was almost five inches thick at its widest point. He used lube I provided to grease up the thick pole and start it down its path to the bitch's prostate.
Brian was bent over, reaching behind himself to spread his cheeks and open his boi-pussy wide. I was feeling a little sorry for him, so I reached over and held out a bottle of poppers. He inhaled deeply, stopping only when I moved the bottle away.
At first, it seemed even all of that help wasn't going to be enough. The big black plug had gone in a few inches, but seemed stuck in mid-plunge, unable to get past brian's sphincter ring. I knew better. I reached over to the hand bobby was using to insert the plug and gave it a strong push. Pop! In it went, with a great sucking sound...brian gasped and groaned and the small crowd watching applauded.
Bobby started applauding too, but stopped immediately when he saw me looking at him. From my bag of tricks I pulled out an even bigger plug and handed it to the bitch...
"Now it's bobby's turn...bitch, do the honors!
Brian took the toy with some delight and lubed it up, sticking a few fingers into bobby's ass to loosen him up a bit. Then he started with the plug, which made only very slow progress into little bobby's hole. He was holding his hands out against the barn wall and was bent over. He kept glancing over at me, knowing better than to ask but hoping his eyes would say "Poppers please!"
I took my time, watching him in agony.
The spectators were urging brian on, telling him to push harder. bobby was sweating and groaning and moaning...When I finally held out my hand, offering him a hit of poppers, I thought he would suck the bottle out of my hand and into his nose. They did the trick, though, relaxing him and his muscles the tiny bit more needed for the missile to enter bobby's hole. You could hear his groan of relief and pleasure on the other side of the barn.
I decided to slow the boy's roll a bit, walking them by their leashes over to a relatively quiet corner of the barn, where there was a hose and a table with soft drinks. Both bois were walking with some difficulty because of the big plugs, but they were also hugely hard, their pricks pointing the way in front of them. I used the hose on them both, rinsing off the accumulated sweat and cum and piss. Both of them held their hands up like little ballerina girls, and I told them that's exactly what they looked like! I turned off the hose, grabbed some ropes hanging down from the rafters, and tethered them in place for a while, facing them toward the corner and away from the crowd and each other.
"Your bois are very entertaining!" The voice came from a couple of yards away, a big guy, six foot or more, about 200 pounds. He wore skintight leather pants and a torn denim vest. "I'm Master Allen", he introduced himself, holding out a hand to shake.
He told me his own boi was out of town, and so he had come to party alone...except for a rather large toy he used a trailer to carry around. "Trailer?" I asked.
"Come with me for a moment and I'll show you," he urged.
The bois seemed fine, off in their own ecstasy world for the moment, so I went with him to another corner of the barn.
I could see right away why Master Allen needed a trailer to cart his "toy" around! Remember those mechanical bulls that were all the rage in Country-Western bars a few years back? Well, when the fad faded, he had bought one cheap and customized it for his own kinky purposes. He managed to get invited to the best parties in the country by offering to bring the thing in and let Master use it.
Master Allen had created a very erotic bull!. Built into the seat was a nice trailer-hitch sized butt plug...on either side and at the back were a series of eyebolts to which leather strings were attached. Tit and other kinds of clamps were attached to the other ends of those strings. There was a wide leather harness near the plug. I was anxious to see the bull in operation, and asked Master Allen for a demonstration. A nearby slave was appropriated for that purpose, with his Master's approval, of course, and the skinny tattooed sk8ter slave boi was greased up and situated above the plug, his feet in the stirrups. He had the word "bitch" in ink across his chest. A huge heavy PA decorated his soft cock.
"OK Boy, make me proud," urged his owner, "you've taken a lot more than that up your boicunt...take it in now!"
The boi grimaced, and finally settled down onto the rubber-encased plug.
Master Allen wrapped the boy's cock and balls tightly using a long rawhide string. The process stretched the slave's balls out away from his body, causing them lay flat on the bull's hard leather saddle. Then tit clamps were attached to some of the leather strings attached to the bull. On the boi's right hand, he stretched on a leather glove that had a series of wires coming from it and running underneath the machine.
Allen walked to the wall, plugged the device in, and walked over close to the boi, whispering in his ear so low that I could only barely hear the words: "OK slut, your Master is giving you the privilege of being my model, so do right or I'll make you wish you had! You are to keep your right hand up in the air at all times, you can use your left hand to hold onto the pommel...that's this part here bitch." He was indicating the highest part of the leather saddle, right in front of the boi. His bound cock and balls pointed right at it. "If your right hand touches any part of the saddle, this little devise", he held up a metal box that attached to the side of the bull, "is going to activate. It sends a nice healthy shock through the saddle, and, by the way, through your balls. Keep that hand up! And enjoy the ride!"
The boi looked scarred to death.
Allen reached into his pocket and pulled out some quarters, inserting them into the ride and walking back to join me as the ride started.
At first it looked kind of silly. The boy sitting on the bull holding one hand up in the air, his shaved pit exposed, his cock flopping around a bit. The machine began slowly rocking front and back, and the boi's long black hair swayed with the motion. He was a little drunk, and he smiled stupidly at the men who had surrounded the bull to watch.
Then the speed started increasing, and with each movement, the pressure on the boy's balls increased, as did the pulling motion on his tit clamps. It was also becoming more difficult for him to stay seated. That caused him to lift up off the machine, and each time he slammed back down onto the saddle his balls took the brunt of the action.
He started reaching down to hold on with his right hand, but remembered the glove and the warning.
Now the beast was really moving back and forth, pushing the lightweight slave-boi up in the air and down...some sideways motion complicated his little unwilling dance as he was thrown around to the delight of the crowd. The en were cheering and shouting, telling their slaves they would be next.
As the speed increased, desperate for some stability, the boi ignored the glove and wires and reached down with his right hand, holding onto the saddle just long enough for the electronic box to send a shock to the entire saddle...the hand jolted back into the air immediately, but not before his cock and balls felt the jolt, heightened by the sweat coating the saddle under him. For the rest of the ride he made all kinds of motions with his body, but that right hand stayed up where it belonged. The boi had learned that lesson fast!
When the boi was removed from the bull, his Master had to almost carry him to the side of the barn for some recovery time. With Master Allen's permission, I brought brian and bobby over to the bull and told them it was rodeo time. Whichever boi could stay the longest on the bull without reaching down with his right hand would win. The loser would not only get a shock, but would also have to spend the rest of the night on all fours like a real bitch.
The contest was great fun, with lots of spectators making bets on which slut-slave of mine would win.
Bobby went first, and made the same mistake as the boi before him, reaching down and touching the slick with sweat saddle, getting a nice jolt in response and then having his tits and balls pulled on when he jumped from the shock! But bobby was also very turned on, his cock ramrod straight into the air, his bound-up balls below, getting a banging with every bounce of the machine. Bobby lasted through the entire ride with just one saddle touch, pretty good, I thought, for a slave-boi. Next up was bitch-brian, who I had kept out of sight. I didn't want him to get any pointers in advance.
As I tied up his cock and balls, I made him tell the spectators (again) what he called his cock. "My pee-pee," he told them, blushing furiously and yet also hard.
"And what do you call these?" I asked, holding up his boy balls as I wrapped them in the rawhide strips. He didn't answer, unsure what I wanted to hear.
"These are my little boi marbles...that's the correct answer," I told him. He immediately repeated the answer, even more embarrassed. I went to the coin insert and started the machine up after telling him the rules and warning him about the shock therapy.
Brian didn't stand a chance. His hand was down on the saddle even before the rough part of the ride started, sending the shock though his "marbles", which caused him to leap upward which pulled on his tits and marbles too, which caused him to put his hand down which...it would have been funny if it weren't so sad. Just thirty seconds into the ride and the bitch was a loser again.
I took him off the machine and even without being told, he got down on all fours, letting me lead him around the barn like the little bitch he is.
It was time to explore those big claw foot tubs...I hoped the bois were thirsty!
--to be continued--
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Bamaboi2serve@charter.net