At 6:30 the next morning, I woke up feeling a gentle pricking in my balls. I tried to open my eyes, and couldn't see anything. Then I realized that my hands were cuffed behind my back, and that I was laying on another person. Within a few seconds, aided by a slightly more insistent pricking in my balls, I remembered where I was - at Sir's house, in his bed, blindfolded. Immediately after that, I remembered his instructions to me the night before: I was supposed to wake him up by sucking on his cock. Of course, I couldn't see where his cock was, but I figured that was part of the fun for him.
So I slid my body down until I'm close to where his cock had to be, pulling the covers back with my teeth as I went. I used my mouth to find his cock, first feeling his thigh, then his hip, then working my way over to his soft cock. I put my mouth around it and started to suck, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, because by now the shocks to my balls were becoming rather more insistent, and were starting to be painful. Soon Sir's cock was rock hard.
I was getting a little more of his cock down my throat, but I was still gagging occasionally, and then I felt Sir's hand on my head. "Good boy, keep working it." I thought that meant he had turned the alarm off; after all, he'd clearly been woken up. But then I felt another shock, which caused me to yelp in surprise as much as pain. Sir laughed, as I got back to work on his cock. After a few more minutes of me sucking him, along with several more minutes of painful shocks to my balls, Sir pulled me off of his cock. "That's enough, boy. We'll save that for breakfast. I trust you can make scrambled eggs?"
"Yes, Sir," I said, and nodded.
Sir took the blindfold off and said, "Good. Three for me, two for you. Everything you need is in the kitchen."
I got off the bed and crawled to the kitchen, where I found a pan and the eggs. I whipped them up, and then cooked them, making my best scrambled eggs. While I was doing that, Sir walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He sat at the table and said, "Real talk right now, boy. Are you enjoying yourself?"
I nodded. "Yes, Sir. Very much so. You treat me exactly the way I want to be treated."
"Do you like everything I do with you?"
"I mean, in a perfect world I wouldn't have to suck your cock, or get fucked by you. It just...it's not something that I enjoy. But...I know that you like it. And I'm a slave, so it's not really about what I like or don't like. I like that I can serve you. I like the fact that you know how to put and keep me in my place. I know that there are going to be things I don't like."
"That's a fair answer, boy," Sir said. "You're right, I like having my cock down your straight faggot throat. I like fucking your tight straight ass. And I won't stop. But I appreciate that you don't like those acts for themselves, the way that I might if I were hooking up with another guy."
"Yes, Sir," I said, not knowing how else to respond.
The eggs were finished. Sir pointed to the cabinet with the plates. I took two out, and put the eggs on the plates, apportioning them roughly as Sir had indicated. I grabbed two forks, and brought the plates to the table. I set one in front of Sir, and prepared to sit in the chair next to him, when he shook his head. Sir picked my plate up and set it on the ground. "You should assume that you're going to eat like a dog when you're with me."
"Yes, Sir," I said, a little disappointed. As I ate (like a dog, as Sir had indicated, so I left my fork on the table), I reflected on that. Why was I disappointed? I mean, Sir could have me eat any way he wanted. At least he was giving me actual food, after all. And I still got to eat. Sure, it was embarrassing, but the only other person who knew was Sir, and he'd pissed in my mouth the night before, so I wasn't going to be shocking him.
Sir and I finished eating at roughly the same time. "Alright, boy, I need a piss, and then it's going to be time to work. Crawl to the bathroom." Great. Speaking of drinking piss, he was going to make me do it again. I promised to myself that I'd do better this time.
This time, there was less ceremony. Sir didn't even say anything. He just walked into the bathroom behind me, put his cock up against my mouth, and when I opened my lips, he let it go. I had to guzzle the piss down to keep up, but I managed to do it.
"Good job, fag boy. I assume your shoes are in your car. Go put them on," Sir said as I swallowed the last drops of his piss and he shook his dick off into my mouth. I crawled out of the bathroom to the front door. I opened the door and stepped outside, walking across the ground to my car (crawling would have been very painful, with the gravel, and Sir hadn't told me I had to). I took my shoes out of the front seat, and slipped them on.
"You're going to work outside for me today, boy. Fortunately for you, the trees keep the neighbors from seeing anything, so you don't need to wear any clothes while you're out here. But first, let's get you ready." Sir was walking out of his house, carrying several items that I knew were destined to be put on me. First, he held up a ball gag. I opened my mouth so he could slide it in, then he buckled it behind my head. Next, Sir put cuffs around each of my wrists, and then used heavy chains to attach them to my collar. I could only move my arms to just below my belly button. Then Sir bent me over my car and lubed my asshole up. He had a hook with a ball on the end that he inserted into my ass (not without some effort, and grunting and gasping from me). Then he had me stand up, and tied the hook to the backside of my collar, pulling it tight, so that if I bent over, I'd pull the hook up into my ass.
"Alright, boy. First I need you to walk around the yard and pick up sticks. Get everything that will hurt my mower. Make a pile on the edge of my patio." Sir pointed me in the direction of his yard, towards the side of his house, and smacked my ass. I immediately set to work, systematically combing the yard for sticks of any real size. Of course, any time I found one, I had to bend over to get it, essentially slow-fucking myself with the anal hook. When my hands were full, I walked to Sir's back patio, essentially a concrete pad, and made a pile of sticks on the edge of the patio.
Since the work wasn't exactly mentally taxing, I didn't have to focus on the task to do it effectively. So, I thought about where I was. I was outside of another man's house, doing a task a child could do. Worse, I was naked, and not by choice; that man wasn't letting me have clothes. And not only was I naked, but my hands were cuffed, with heavy chains that were starting to get painful to carry around, and every time I had to bend over, I fucked myself with an anal hook that was tied to my collar. And I wasn't even able to suffer this humiliation by myself, but Sir was sitting on the porch, sipping on a drink, watching me.
When I'd finally combed the yard, Sir called me over to him. He removed the gag, and offered me a cup of water, which I eagerly drank. Then Sir replaced the gag and said, "There's a wheelbarrow in the garage. Use that to take the sticks to the burn pile. You can see the path through the trees." He pointed, and I could see a worn-down track leading into the trees around his house. I followed his instructions.
When I returned and put the wheelbarrow away, Sir asked me if I needed to use the restroom. I did, so I nodded. "Crawl into the yard. Lift a leg, and piss away," Sir said with a chuckle. Fuck, not only was I crawling at his heels like a dog, and eating like a dog, but now I was even pissing like a dog. But I needed to pee, so I got down on all fours, pulling the hook tight. I crawled a few steps into the yard, and then lifted my leg into the air. While I hung my head in shame, I pissed out and away from myself, like a dog marking his territory. Then I crawled back to Sir.
"Such a good slave boy," he said, rubbing my hair. Now I was even being shown affection like I was a dog? "Stand up," Sir said. When I was standing, Sir removed the hook from my ass, and unchained my wrists. He wrapped his fingers around my balls, and pulled me behind him into his garage. He led me to his riding mower, which had a dildo sitting up on the seat. Sir guided me up onto the mower, and then guided me onto the dildo. I went slowly, because it was a large dildo, and Sir didn't force the issue. But once it was at the entrance to my hole, Sir pushed me down so that it penetrated me as I gasped and groaned.
Once I was seated on the mower, my ass impaled on the dildo, Sir removed the ball gag. He offered me another cup of water, which I drank. Then he said, "Since you won't be moving around, I think this is a good time to train your throat while you get some work done." He put a ring gag in my mouth, then put a dildo into my mouth through the gag. It was just long enough that I started to gag on it when he secured it to the ring, so that it was stuck right at the start of my gag reflex.
"Relax your throat. Now listen," Sir said, as he gave me instructions for how to operate the mower. I listened to him, and when he backed away, I started it up and proceeded to mow his yard. As I drove, I felt the mower's vibrations deep in my ass, while I was occasionally gagging on the fake cock that was buried in my throat. As I neared the end of the yard, though, I realized that I was hardly choking on the cock anymore. Sir's training method of prolonged forced gagging was apparently effective. But still, to let another man do this to me could only mean that I had well and truly given up any semblance of control that I had, and that I was totally his to command.
Once I was done with the yard, Sir motioned for me to drive the mower back into the garage. I parked it back in its place, then Sir helped me to climb off of the dildo. He took the cock out of my mouth, and then removed the gag. "How are you feeling, boy?" he asked.
"I'm feeling alright, Sir. A little tired, but nothing too bad. Mostly embarrassed," I replied.
"What do you have to be embarrassed about, boy? That a straight fag like you spent the morning naked in another man's yard, working for no reward other than what I might feel like giving you, and ended it violated in both of your holes? Is that why you felt embarrassed?"
I didn't know what to say, so I blushed, nodded my head, and quietly said, "Yes, Sir, pretty much."
Sir laughed. "I bet." He patted my cheek affectionately, and added, "My poor little embarrassed straight fag boy. Wait until you see what I have planned for you this afternoon. Now crawl into the house. It's lunchtime."
I got onto all fours and crawled into the house behind Sir. He sent me to the front door to take off my shoes. When I crawled back into the dining room, he had me kneel and put my hands behind my back. He used a length of rope to tie them there. He walked into the kitchen and returned with one plate. I didn't say anything, but I must have given him a look, because he laughed at me and said, "I gave you breakfast. I'll give you dinner. You don't need lunch. But don't worry, I've got meat for you to swallow."
I knew what that meant. Sir set his plate down, dropped his shorts, and then sat down. I crawled underneath the table and between his legs. Then I took his cock into my mouth, and worked on it. Since Sir was eating, I didn't think he wanted a vigorous blow job, and I was right. I put to good use the extended gag range I had developed that morning, taking more of his cock than I'd ever been able to do.
Eventually, Sir stopped eating. I picked up my pace, but Sir lightly smacked the top of my head and said, "Slow back down, boy. I'll tell you if I want more than that." I didn't respond, because my mouth was full of his cock, but I took the message to heart, and slowed back down.
After a few minutes, Sir said, "Ok, that's enough. I'd rather blow that up your ass later." Oh, god, he was so casual with fucking me, and he had every reason to be. Of course I wasn't going to resist or stop him. Of course I was going to let him use me for his pleasure.
Sir stood up and beckoned for me to follow him. I crawled behind him back to his dungeon. Immediately after I entered, Sir helped me to stand up, then placed a blindfold on me. I felt him put leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles. Then my ankles were being pulled apart, first my right, and then my left. They were soon attached with chains to something, probably the floor. My legs were spread obscenely wide, and I couldn't do anything to close them, or to protect my privates (and yes, the irony of calling them my privates after all I'd done was not lost on me - they certainly weren't private when it came to Sir). Then my wrists were chained together, and they were pulled over my head, so that my body was in a kind of inverted Y. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it wasn't awful. The biggest strain was on my inner thighs, which were stretched out pretty good.
I felt Sir's hands around my balls, and knowing how vulnerable I was, a slight shiver ran through me. That shiver was justified, as it turned out, because Sir started to squeeze. And he kept squeezing, always just a little bit harder, until I soon screamed in pain and tried to contort my body away from him. That was a bad idea. Not only could I not really go anywhere, he had such a tight hold on my testicles that when I pulled away, even slightly, it hurt even more.
Sir let go. I couldn't help whimpering, "What did I do, Sir?"
He chuckled. "You're my slave, that's what you did. If you give me a reason, I will hurt you, but I don't need a reason to hurt my little fag boy. I decided to spend the afternoon torturing you. You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, you've been a very good slave boy today. But I feel like hurting you, so...you're going to hurt. That's the life of a slave boy."
I nodded in understanding. Well, at least I wasn't being punished, but that wasn't going to make it hurt any less. Sir patted my right cheek so hard it almost felt like I was being lightly slapped. "Good boy, accept your place as my slave faggot. You don't get to decide how you get used, whether you get fucked, tortured, or thrown in a cage. That's my decision. And if you take me up on my offer to become my full slave tomorrow, that will be your life." I knew he was right, and I already knew I was going to accept. Not because I didn't have a choice. I most definitely had a choice. And I knew I was going to make the pathetic choice to turn my straight body over to be another man's plaything, because I wanted to be owned so badly.
I heard Sir walking around the room, and could only wait for what else he had planned. When he returned to me, I felt him wrap something around my balls, and then I felt a gentle tug on my balls. Apparently, Sir had wrapped a parachute around my balls, and hung a weight from it. That wasn't so bad. The next weight wasn't so bad either. By the time he got the fifth weight on, though, my balls were very stretched, and I could feel the dull aching pain up in my gut. Then Sir started to swing the parachute and the weights back and forth. I had to groan in pain.
Why was I here? Why did I let another man hurt me in my most sensitive spot? What was I getting out of it? Sir spent several minutes swinging my balls around, apparently enjoying himself, so I had time to think about the answers to those questions. What was I getting out of it? I guess in one way the answer was simple: I was getting owned. I was getting used. I was reduced to a slave, a plaything; a useful plaything, maybe, but still a plaything. And as a slave, I felt...right. I belonged here. I was of use when I was pleasing somebody else, even if I was pleasing them by giving them my body as a canvas for their sadistic desires.
I suddenly realized Sir was standing in front of me. I could feel him standing directly in front of me, so close that my face was practically touching his chest. He bent down and whispered in my ear, "Would your balls like a break, boy? Kiss me, and I'll give these faggot torture sacks a break."
I had to kiss him? I don't know why that was the thing that made me uncomfortable, but it did. Kissing is intimate. A blowjob, a fucking, those aren't intimate. When I suck Sir's dick, I'm not being intimate with him, I'm serving him. I'm giving him something he wants. When Sir fucks me, I'm giving him something he wants. When Sir tortures my cock and balls, when he parades me around his house naked, I'm letting him have something he wants. There's no equality. There's no desire. But a kiss...that's intimate. A kiss says, "I like you." And that's not how I felt about Sir. Our relationship wasn't based on liking each other, but on him using me, and that's how I wanted it.
But my balls needed a break. They were in pain. And so I kissed Sir. I put my lips on his and kissed him. And yes, it was weird as fuck. I didn't enjoy the kiss, not the way I enjoy kissing a woman. Sir's lips weren't soft, they weren't inviting, they weren't smooth. But I kissed him anyway. And as I did, I felt Sir lift the weight and give some relief to my sore testicles. Sir kept kissing me, so I kept kissing him back.
Finally, after we were done making out, Sir dropped the weight. As it hit the edge of its chains, and wanted to keep following gravity to the floor, but couldn't, my balls took force of the drop, and I screamed. Not only was I not ready for it, and hadn't been able to brace myself, but the sensation itself was so intense and painful that I couldn't stop myself. I screamed.
"Aaaaauuuuggggghhhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I screamed.
Sir laughed. As the pain subsided a bit, I realized that the kiss hadn't been about liking each other, even though that's what a kiss normally meant. It was a perversion of that. It was a way of debasing me, of wiping away who I used to be. It took a form of intimacy that I would never have with Sir and twisted it. And it had been about taking me off my guard, so that he could cause me more pain.
After his dirty trick, I could tell that Sir's cock was rock hard, and he decided it was time to use that. So he untied my cuffs and led me back to the spanking bench I'd been on the night before. He strapped me to that, and I felt him putting lube into my hole. There was no playing around; Sir immediately put his cock into my asshole, and started to fuck me. He was almost gentle about it, though. He thrust deep, but not hard. He was taking his time, savoring my hole. And the whole time, he talked to me in a friendly, conversational tone, which made his words so much more jarring.
"Mmmm, yeah, boy, I do love your faggot hole. I love putting my cock, my big, manly cock, inside your straight faggot ass.You know that's what you're going to be, a straight faggot. You can't help yourself. You need to be my slave. And I'm going to make you gay, even if you think you're straight. You're going to suck cock. You're going to fuck cock. You're going to worship cock. You're going to the gayest little straight faggot anybody ever heard of. And you're going to be all mine.
"I'm taking my time here, because this feels so good, sliding my cock in and out of your boy pussy. I want to keep feeling it for a long time. I want to fuck you with my big cock for a long time. And you enjoy it. You say you're straight, but your cock is hard, just like you were a little faggot. That's what you are, my little straight faggot slave.
"Your asshole is so good. I'm going to blow my cum right up in there. How many times have I cum since the other night? How many times have you cum? None, right? And you aren't cumming tonight, either, little bitch-boy. And you know why? Because faggot orgasms don't matter. Maybe you'll get a chance to cum tomorrow, but tonight? No, because I don't feel like letting you, and you don't get any say in it, because you're just a slave boy who doesn't get to make choices anymore."
Sir accentuated that lack of choice by stroking my cock just three or four times and stopping again, despite the fact that by now, I was desperate for physical pleasure. And I wasn't going to cum tonight, either? Fuck!
Sir continued in the same vein for quite some time. Occasionally he would stroke me for a very brief time, but he never let me get more than token pleasure out of my (admittedly very hard) dick. Finally, I heard his breathing get more ragged, and he started fucking me slightly faster, and in moments Sir said, "I'm cumming in your ass, fag boy!" I felt his cock spurt a load of hot cum into my hole.
Sir pulled his cock out of my ass and walked to my front. "Open up, boy. My cock needs cleaned off," he ordered. I really had no choice but to open my mouth and accept his cock, cleaning his cum and lube off. It was disgusting. Not only had that cock just been in my shithole, but the lube was shockingly bitter and unpleasant. Once his cock was cleaned off to his satisfaction, Sir stood next to me and used a couple of fingers to scoop up cum that had leaked out of my ass. He fed that to me, which didn't taste any better. He continued to do that, even slipping his finger inside my asshole, feeding me his lube- and ass-flavored cum, which I choked down, gagging at the awful taste.
Sir untied me from the bench and helped me stand up. "That was a good fuck, boy. And now that you've had a snack, I've worked up an appetite, so I'm going to start working on dinner. You are going to do some more cleaning. I think I'm going to have you vacuum the carpet."
"Yes, Sir," I replied, glad to have something that wasn't inherently painful or humiliating to do. He showed me where the vacuum cleaner was, and smacked my ass hard as he walked away.
I immediately got down to vacuuming. I started in the living room, moved to the hallway, and into his bedroom. I was very thorough, making sure I didn't see a speck of dust or dirt anywhere on the floor. When I was finished, I put the vacuum away and walked into the kitchen, where I saw that Sir was halfway through his dinner, and my plate was down on the floor.
"Finally, boy. Your dinner has been getting cold," he said. Clearly, the cleanliness of his floors was more important to him than whether I enjoyed my food. I dropped onto my knees and crawled to my plate. I ate without the benefit of using my hands, like Sir had indicated I should. By the time I finished, Sir was long done. "Clean up from lunch and dinner. And clean off your face, boy, you look ridiculous. Then come to the living room. I've got a nice, relaxing evening planned."
I hoped it wasn't relaxing like last night was relaxing, when he made me stand stock-still while he used me for a footrest. Because that wasn't very relaxing for me, and I was starting to think that maybe I could use a little bit of relaxing. Regardless, the first thing that needed done was to clean up, which I did quickly but thoroughly.
Once I had cleaned everything up, including my face, I crawled into the living room to see Sir sitting naked on the couch, tossing a butt plug absentmindedly into the air while he watched TV. I crawled up to him, and he instructed me to stay where I was. I thought I was going to be a footstool again, but he took the opportunity of me being bent over to lube my ass up and put the plug inside me.
Then he said, "Ok, boy, I want to watch some TV to relax, and I want to get my balls sucked while I'm sitting here. Not my cock. I'll save that for later, because I want to fuck you again before bed. But until I'm ready for that, you're going to worship my balls. You'll be on the floor, but I'm not going to tie you up because, well, a fag like you doesn't need tied up when there are balls to suck on. Be in whatever position is comfortable for you, as long as you're being quiet and sucking on my balls."
"Yes, Sir," I said, quietly, unsure about this. I'd never really thought about worshiping balls separate from the cock they were attached to. But I figured that I'd learn. Sir slid forward so that his balls were hanging over the edge of the sofa. I kneeled in front of him, sitting back on my heels as comfortably as I could manage, and got started.
I started out by kissing his balls. He wanted them worshiped, after all, and that seemed like a good way to get myself used to them. Then I started to lick them. They were slightly salty with Sir's sweat from the day. Soon, I was taking one of them in my mouth at a time, and sucking gently. Judging by Sir's cock, he was enjoying my attention, but he didn't say anything, just silently watched TV. A week ago, I would have been disgusted by myself right now. Sucking another man's balls after he had spent an afternoon torturing me and fucking me? That's...I mean, it's completely degrading. It's incredibly low, especially when you consider that that man was functionally ignoring me. It was so routine for him that he wasn't even paying attention.
Despite my humiliation, I kept sucking Sir's testicles, occasionally getting both of them into my mouth at once. My jaw was getting sore, and I was starting to get tired and lose focus when Sir turned off the television. "Alright, boy. Crawl behind me to the bedroom. I'm going to fuck you and then we're going to bed."
I obediently crawled behind Sir. Back in his bedroom, he set me up like he had the previous evening, with my hands cuffed behind my back and a strap around my balls to deliver an electric shock. Then he had me lay on my back, with my ass at the edge of the bed. Sir pulled my legs up into the air, and pulled the plug out of my asshole. He replaced the plug with his cock, and began pumping into me. This was not a slow fucking like he had done earlier. No, this was rougher. Not brutal, not even really painful, but definitely not as comfortable. Sir said nothing as he fucked me, but just thrust in and out, over and over, using my hole.
Just before he came, he pulled out of my asshole, and sprayed his cum all over my front, including onto my face. Sir finished off by rubbing his cock, milking a couple more spurts out, then he said, "Clean my cum off of you, boy. Use a finger and your mouth. I'll be back in a second." It wasn't easy to reach all of the cum, but the chain between the cuffs was long enough that with some twisting and contorting, I was able to get the cum off of me. I had to lick it off of my fingers, and I realized that I really was so pathetic that I was cleaning another man's cum off of me with my tongue.
When Sir came back, he laid down in the bed and went to sleep with me in his arms. After all that he'd put me through, I was surprised to find myself grateful for this show of affection. I was exhausted, and unlike last night, I quickly fell asleep.