Date: Sun, 9 Mar 2008 20:50:19 -0500
From: Christian Gartrip <christianxgartrip@gmail.com>
Subject: Master Paulus - Part 6 (Gay-Authoritarian and Interracial)

Master Paulus - Part 6
Selling Souls

By: Christian Xavier Gartrip

(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)


Preface: Again, I seem to be distracted and have left a number of you
perverts "hanging" in anticipation of what happens next... Yeah, well, my
life as a plaything is not easy, and I've been a little tied-up, so to
speak, since New Year's Eve.  In addition, the bossman has not been happy
with the realistic portrayal that he and his friends received in a few of
my chapters, so I've had to rewrite this one, again and again.  Apparently
I have a few fans here in NC who have contacted the Man in hopes of
borrowing me and have also tried to guess his identity... or mine.  Nice
try, guys.  Anyway, I've finally finished it... so enjoy.

(As a reminder: Saturday afternoon at Rev's lake house, last autumn.)  Rev
had me suspended with my arms stretched out above my head and roped to a
metal pipe attached to the ceiling joist.  Still naked, I was at least no
longer cold.  As Rev stood there, I could see that he was already sweating.
He had yet to lift a single hand, but he was already covered in a thin
salty layer of sweat.  So was I.

He left his belt on my shoulder to taunt me and instead, turned his
attention to a large wooden box against the wall.  The box was old and
appeared handmade.  It reminded me of my childhood toy box, so henceforth,
I've always thought of it as Rev's toy box.  He hunched down in front of it
and began digging around in search of... well... his toys.

He removed two large curls of rope and a pair of leather ankle cuffs and
approached me, slowly.

"I can't have you kicking your way out of here, and I'm going to need your
full attention.  So be still."

I did stand very still as Rev cuffed my ankles and spread my legs about
three feet apart.  I was already shackled to the ceiling, so I guess I knew
that I wasn't going anywhere, so I didn't waste any energy fighting him.
Maybe he would go easier on me if I didn't resist.  He each rope to each of
the ankle cuffs and then extended the ropes to the outer walls and knotted
them around the exposed studs.  Clearly, I wasn't going anywhere for quite
sometime.  What next, a tribal dance?

I guess I should tell you more about Rev.  Rev is slow and methodical about
his work.  Unlike Master, he is also a little more engaging.  He sometimes
talks to me, sometimes lets me talk back, and maintains eye contact in a
way that would make my real Master uncomfortable.  In addition, Rev isn't
squeamish when it comes to cock.  He actually seems to like it.  Well,
maybe "like" is the wrong word.  Let's just say he doesn't seem to have a
problem acknowledging that I have a cock.  Master's idea of cock-play is to
shave it clean once a week.  Rev defines cock-play a little differently.
But I digress.

As I said, Rev was naked and covered in sweat.  Rev is also black.  Very,
very Black.  To see him, you might think that his parents were Kenyan or
Nigerian.  There are no caucasians in his family tree.  He's close to 60 I
think, about 5'10" and probably weighs in at about 190, but I've never been
very good at guessing a man's weight.  He has broad slumping shoulders, a
naturally lean bone structure with a thin chest, and a round protruding
gut.  His hair is about 2 inches in length and styled like a short afro
from the early eighties.  Although old enough, he had no gray hair that I
could discern.  It sounds odd, but on him it works.  Of course, I am
partial to brooding, aging black men, so what do I know?

I think I've already described Rev's cock to you, but if you don't
remember, it's about 7 inches when erect; it is as black as midnight and
tipped by an odd-looking bright pink head that seems larger in scale than
it should be.  Like the whites of his eyes and his glistening teeth, the
pink mushroom tip really stands out.  Actually, it's almost impossible to
miss it.  Rev's crotch is completely bare.  At some point since our last
meeting (when he first introduced me to the agony of the crop) he had
decided to shave his pubic hairs.  In their place rested a thick metal cock
ring made from the shiniest steel.  It looked like a flat platinum wedding
band.  He wore it very tightly, which pushed his sac down and forced the
dark shaft of his cock forward.  The pressure from the ring also made the
veins very noticeable.  It was so tight, that at one point I thought I
could see the blood pumping through his dick from four feet away.

Rev spent an incredible amount of time checking my ropes and inspecting his
knots.  The room continued to heat up, and the sweat on my brow was now
dripping into my eyes, but Rev never addressed it.  Throughout, his black
belt rested quietly on my shoulder as a reminder of what would come.

Rev revisited his toy box and returned with a thin and extremely long black
rubber dildo.  It reminded me of a rubber-covered bullwhip.  Did I say it
was long?  Yes, it was very long.  If he had placed it on the floor next to
my foot, the tip of it would have grazed my knee.  I'd never seen anything
like it before, and it looked more like a weapon than a sex toy.  Where
does someone find this kind of thing?  To this day, I've no idea.

Rev was also carrying the proverbial bucket of Crisco.  He tossed them on
the floor and returned to the toy chest.

Next up was a long piece of rawhide.  Rev came in close and looked down
into my eyes and grabbed my sweaty cock with his left hand and squeezed it.
It was soft, which was unfortunate.  He grinned at me, as if he had a
secret that I would never get out of him.

My Master was not one for cock play... unless it was HIS cock that I was
playing with.  Rev was different.  Rev was into cock and ball torture, or
his own special brand of it anyway.  He wrapped the rawhide around my cock
and sac in a crisscrossing figure-8 pattern over and over again until he
had run out of cord.  He then tied it off and examined me.  It was
exceptionally tight, which as I said, was unfortunate, because as soon as
he finished he began to squeeze my sac while rubbing his long black fingers
across the head.  The erection came quickly and as the blood rushed in, my
cock expanded against the ever-tightening rawhide.  It hurt like hell.  It
really seriously hurt.  That, I guess, was the point.

Rev, always the sadist, aimed his cock onto the newly formed bonds and
dumped a healthy stream of piss onto the knot.  I knew that the wet rawhide
would shrink as it dried, making the whole set-up even more tortuous.  The
week's worth of crotch fuzz that had sprouted since my last shaving didn't
help matters either, but at this point, it wasn't really my major concern,
as you can imagine.  All I got from Rev was a grunt and then another one of
his wicked grins.

After giving my cock a warm piss bath, Rev left the room and returned a few
minutes later with a tripod and a video camera.  Damn.  Damn.  Damn.  In
all of my time with Master and his friends, I had successfully avoided the
starring role in a stereotypical online amateur porn flick that is so
trendy these days... but no more, apparently.  Rev set up the camera about
fifteen feet away and turned it on.  My "online" fate was now in his hands,
and I was powerless to do anything to change that.

"We're gonna make a little movie.  You can think of it as a marketing tool,
a sample of the merchandise.  You know what I mean?"  Rev laughed at
himself, but didn't really act as if he wanted a verbal response, so I just
hung my head a little and kept my mouth shut.

Rev placed a piece of duct tape over my mouth and grabbed the back of my
head and aimed my face at the camera as he spoke.

"This is our new boy.  I know, he's not much of a boy, but he can take just
about whatever any of you guys want to throw his way.  He can stand up to a
heavy-handed whippin' better than anyone we've ever had.  He likes a good
stiff dick up his tail too, and he can survive for days at a time on
nothing but a diet of hot piss, warm spunk, and juicy ass crud.  He's old,
but he'd be worth every penny.  Just sit back and watch and you'll see what
I mean."

So this was an audition tape, I thought.  Odd, because I didn't really
remember giving him or anyone else my permission to sell me, but again, I
didn't really have an "out."  After his "intro speech," Rev didn't say
much.  He had work to do, and the images he caught on tape would do most of
the talking..

Rev picked up the can of Crisco and scooped out a handful of the cool
grease and rubbed it into the crack of my ass.  My legs were spread out
wide, so he had full access.  He pushed two and then three fingers inside
and coated the walls of my rectum with grease.  After a few pops of his
hand on my butt, he took the skinny black rubber dildo and pushed the tip
of it past my sphincter.  He didn't stand on ceremony for very long.  He
just pushed it straight into me, slowly but without hesitation, as he
always does.  The initial onset didn't shock me, but as the thin tube
snaked through my lower bowel, the pain began to build gradually and very
deep inside.  He hadn't bothered to give me a fresh enema, so at times, I
could actually feel it fighting to get past various blockages that proved
to be no match for what Rev was pushing into me.  God, in was so intense.
I'd felt pain before and had enjoyed it in my own way, but never anything
this deep.

Rev pushed on the black rubber snake until it disappeared completely inside
my ass.  The only thing left hanging free was a metal ring attached to the
bottom of it that was too large to break past the sphincter.  He tied a
thin rope through the ring and then let it drop to the floor momentarily.
He brought out a thick black slave (ok, dog) collar, studded with silver
knobs and rivets and locked it around my neck.  He then connected the
dildo's rope that appeared to shoot from my ass to the collar.  One length
of the rope fit tightly against my chest, while the other fit against my
back.  The two pieces were joined to the collar.

Rev then shifted his attention to my tightly bound cock.  He cupped it in
his hand and squeezed it like a man squeezes his lover's dick, very gently,
very passionately.  It made me very hard again and had the desired effect
of tightening the wet rawhide cord even further.  It didn't kill any of the
pain shooting through my gut; it only added to the agony by helping to
spread it evenly all over my body.

Rev finally lifted the belt that had had been resting on my shoulder and
folded it in half.  He stood between the camera and me, and started giving
me short quick slaps on the front of my legs.  He concentrated mostly on
the upper thighs, just under my crotch.  Periodically the belt would come
in contact with my dick and a whole new set of nerve endings would light
up.  No one had ever whipped my cock before.  It was a whole new kind of
sting.

Rev continued the slapping with a rhythmic pace as he slowly walked in
circles around me.  He wasn't looking at his camera and he wasn't looking
at me either.  He was however watching my flesh very closely.  He seemed to
concentrate on it as if he wanted to make sure that every slap of the
leather hit a very specific and previously bruised spot.  As I mentioned
earlier, he is a very focused man... and very sadistic.

Periodically, Rev would pause long enough to stroke my cock or twist the
handle of the rubber tube he'd buried in my hole, only to return to the
constant popping of the belt on my thighs.  This punishment continued for
quite a time.  Clearly, the men who would one day watch the video were the
kind of men who enjoyed extended torture scenes with a lengthy build up of
rough foreplay.  Fuckers, I thought.

Escape was hopeless, and I'm not sure if "escape" is what I really wanted,
but as anyone who enjoys this kind of thing might tell you, pain is pain,
and regardless of how much you crave it, enduring it is often more
difficult than one might imagine.  So I squirmed, and moaned, and tried to
yell out for him to stop, but he just ignored me.  He was smart to bind me
the way he did.  It kept me from getting away.  Yes, it's true that I can't
really imagine sex anymore without this kind of treatment, and I do
desperately crave the attention, but I always try to run.  I always want it
to stop as soon as it starts.  The only way I can really endure it for any
length of time is to be locked down, tied to a table, or chained to a wall.
Master knew this instinctively, and so does Rev.  Once the opportunity to
flee is erased, the slave can finally accept his fate.  It's the only thing
that works.  The human instinct is to run... always, always, to run.  A
rope, a gag, and a belt: they are the only true friends a real Master has.
Without them, a slave cannot be a slave.  He will run.

Even today, after all of my training, after all that I have endured, I
cannot eliminate that instinctive desire to be free.  No one can, really.
The need to avoid pain will always be stronger that the desperate desire to
experience it.  Humiliation, degradation, or submission is one thing, but
the pain that comes from physical torture is quite another.  A good Master,
a real Master, knows this first and foremost.  He knows he can't extinguish
within the slave the need to run, so he works to eliminate the opportunity.
In my world, there are no poseurs; no safe words; no "stand here and take
it" scenarios.  No one asks me if I'm okay.  These men, the Masters of my
fate, know what they must do to keep the slave in his place.  He must be
bound.  He must be gagged.  He must not run.

And so I didn't run.  How could I?  Naked, carried to a strange place,
bound in a room, and now unable even to scream.  No one even knew I was
missing, so how would anyone even know how to find me?  This is not what
makes me a good slave.  It is, however, what makes Rev a good Master: He
killed the opportunity.

That is what went through my head while standing in front of the camera as
Rev slowly ripped into my flesh.  He wasn't looking to me to see if he'd
gone too far, or to see how much more I could take.  This was not a game,
and I was not in a position to give him permission.  I had done that, given
my permission to all of them, months ago.

Rev tossed the belt on the floor.  He pressed his chest and stomach into my
back and bit gently onto the flesh just below the dog collar.  He wrapped
his arms around my torso and stroked my nipples, then pulled at them, and
then twisted them into two large red mounds.  It took only a few seconds,
but from somewhere he produced two silver tit clamps.  He placed one on
each of my nipples and pulled on them to exaggerate the intensity of the
experience.  This was new.  Master Paulus was not a nipple man.  He
preferred the fleshy female breasts of his whores to the small bumps on his
slave.  So he ignored them, like he had always ignored my dick.  Rev, of
course, was different in that area as well.

Rev continued to manipulate the clamps until he'd achieved the maximum in
pain infliction, which he could clearly deduce from my bulging eyes, my
muffled screams, and my raging erection.  He attached a silver chain to
connect the clamps, which held in its center a large silver gothic cross
that dangled just above my navel.  So now, the clamps could do their
intended damage without the constant attention from Rev.  I call it
"passive torture."

Rev stood behind the camera and the tripod and moved it up and down, ever
so slightly, then came in for a close-up of my face (clearly in agony), my
torturous tit device, and the make-shift rawhide wrappings around my cock.
With the camera in hand, he walked slowly around my naked body and recorded
each mark and every flesh wound, finally stopping to spend a few extra
seconds on the tip of the rubber tube that peaked out from my rectum.

"As you brotha's can see, he's older than what you're used to getting from
us, but he's willing and very unusual.  Look at these red thighs.  These
things are hot.  Now check out this ass.  It's nice and round, good for
fuckin' and good for whippin'.  See how white it is now?  Just watch how
the color changes after I take a crack at him.  I'm gonna show you how to
set it on fire!"  Rev returned the camera to the tripod and moved it to
catch my backside.  A minute of so later he pulled a large and thick
leather paddle from the toy box and placed the end of it on the center of
my ass.

"Now watch as I run him through the paces with some of my favorite straps.
He's got good endurance, and so should you if you're gonna be the one
owning this boy."

And then it began: the slow rhythmic beating with the leather paddle.  I
don't, for the record, have "remarkable endurance" as Rev claimed.  What I
have is bondage, which doesn't require any endurance at all.  It only
requires that I maintain the act of breathing or maybe a heartbeat.  But
this was part of the game.  Rev knew I was going nowhere, so he used my
bondage as a selling tool, like a used car salesman trying to unload a '94
Cutlass by calling it a "classic".

"THHWAAAP THHWAAAP THWAAAP THHWAAAP THHWAAAP!"

And so it went.  Again and again, Rev ripped into my butt with his favorite
leather paddle.  My legs buckled, and at one point I feared the ceiling
might cave in on top of me as I tried to pull away.  He ignored me,
laughed, and continued.

"THHWAAAP THHWAAAP THWAAAP THHWAAAP THHWAAAP!"

Somehow he managed to concentrate every crack he took on the exact same
place, dead center, just above the asshole.  I could only imagine how red
the flesh had become.  I felt certain that the camera was situated to catch
every square inch of the bloody hue.

As the day progressed, Rev moved from the leather paddle to a thick brown
suede strap, which he used on my thighs; then he turned to a round wooden
paddle, which burned large welts on my lower cheeks; and finally a thin
piece of cane, which he used to mark my legs with a random crisscrossing
pattern.

After each tool, he would stop to focus the camera on the damage.
Narrating, always narrating, but also letting the lens tell the story that
he was carefully carving onto my nakedness.

As I've said before, and as any real slave can verify, we have to figure
out a way to disconnect at this point.  We have to avoid, mentally, the
real damage caused by the physical torture that we actually craved in the
first place.  So, I would like to describe for the sadists who are reading
how it all felt, but I can't.  I can't because I can't remember it well
enough to describe it accurately.  I can only say that at some point, it
stopped, and I was glad.

"Let's give the guys an example of what kind of pussy you've got, boy.  I
think they'd be curious as to what a guy like you can offer once the lights
go out, you know what I mean?"

Yes, I thought, I know what you mean.

Rev untied the ropes that connected the butt tube to my collar and let it
fall to the floor.  He grabbed the ring and ripped the thing from my ass,
quickly.  How my intestinal track managed to stay in place, undamaged, I'll
never know, but I do know that I was glad to have that 18 inch rubber tube
out of gut.  My sphincter was in tact, but my insides, deep inside, were
not in good shape, and I knew it.  He didn't care.

"Now this one (he means me) can be a bit messy, so when you clean him out,
you may want to be prepared.  I suggest a small cleaning room or maybe a
shed on the back lawn for that sort of thing.  You certainly want to make
sure you keep him out of your bathroom.  You'll regret it.  Now, I have him
spread wide over a drain in the floor, which I always use for suckin' out
the guts of my boys-in-training.  You might think about that too, if you
don't already have one."  Rev walked around me, still filming, as he
explained the ins-and-outs of how to douche out the guts of an "older"
slave.  Yeah, I know.  It's gross, so I'll spare you most of it.

But on a side note: I've always thought it odd that in the world of gay
porn, both visual and literary, the need to have a clean ass, and the
acknowledgment of all that that entails, seams to have been scrubbed from
the record.  A man's asshole isn't exactly like a pussy.  It needs grease
to work properly, and let's face it, who wants a dirty cock?  (Ok, don't
answer that one.)  But for all of you tops out there reading this, why
don't you take the time to say a quick thank-you to all of us bottoms
(slave or otherwise) who manage to go to such lengths to maintain the
"illusion" for you.  I don't worry about it anymore, because these men I
serve are usually so obsessed with seeing it happen or with seeing it NOT
happen, so I'm good either way.  But for the rest of you... stop pretending
and just deal with it.  It's not THAT bad.  If it were, you wouldn't be in
the business of pursuing a piece of ass in the first place, right?

Anyway, Rev performed the ritual much like Master does: as a matter of fact
and as a matter of necessity.  I'll never understand how they manage to see
it through or why they insist on doing it.  I guess it's yet another way to
remind me of how low I am in their minds, but still.  I could think of
better things to do if I were a Master.

With that said, it did feel good to have the old pipes freshened up.  I did
appreciate it, especially the warm soapy water, which always feels like a
naughty plunge into a Jacuzzi at the gym.  I don't mean to imply that I had
"recovered" from the beatings, I hadn't.  The pain from the tit clamps was
still borderline unbearable as well, and the duct tape gag really needed to
be removed, because it was starting to affect my breathing.  Sadly, that
part didn't change.

Once my ass was clean, Rev retrieved a sawhorse from the corner of the room
and placed it directly in front of me and tossed a couple of quilts over
the rotting wood.  Using a small step stool, he reached up and cut my hands
free, but quickly pushed me forward from the waist and tied me, spread
eagle, over the horse.  Damn, for an old guy, he was both quick and agile.
Then again, I was all but dead from exhaustion, so the thought of fighting
him off didn't really come to me when I had a chance.  I was actually
hoping it would make me feel a little more relaxed.  Bent forward seemed
better than dangling from the ceiling.  Of course, my legs were still
spread wide and anchored to the walls.  I'm sure the whole scene appeared
oddly uncomfortable to the clients.

As I previously mentioned, the warm enema felt great, but it also washed
away most of the Crisco.  Rev never bothered to replace it.  He did,
however, spend quite a bit of time shooting close ups of my red bottom and
puckered asshole.  Lots of descriptions followed of course.  "Juicy" was a
word he used several times, as well as "tight."

From my point of view, my mind was turning to other things.  Suddenly I
remembered how toxic his cock was.  He'd fucked me before.  He was rough,
and I'd loved it.  My cock, wrapped tight in rawhide, was dripping precum
and growing by the second.  Cock.  I needed his cock.  Rev's cock would
make the pain go away.  Rev's cock would take my mind off my tits.  Rev's
cock.  Yes.  Rev's cock.

Rev set the camera and tripod next to the set-up to give the advantage of a
side view, then returned with his new friend, the cane rod.  Oh God.  I'd
have preferred a wire-trimmed paddle to that damn stick.  Again, the
squirming.

CRRAAACKKKK!  CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK!  CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK!  CRRAAACKKKK!

He delivered multiple pairs of razor-like lashes, quickly x-ing his way up
one thigh, across the ass, down the other thigh, and on down to the upper
calves.  And then he repeated it, again.

 CRRAAACKKKK!  CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK!  CRRAAACKKKK!

CRRAAACKKKK!  CRRAAACKKKK!

He should thank God he had me tied down and my mouth taped.  I would have
killed him were it not for that.  He almost killed me.

Rev pressed his crotch against my ass, numbed almost completely, and placed
the large pink head of his cock against the lips of my hole, which,
surprisingly, was not very numb at all.  I felt it.  Wet, dripping with
juice, and desperate to push it's way inside.

Please, I thought, please... push it in.  Rape it!  Fuck my ass hard and
fuck away all of this madness.  Please!

And he did.  He fell fast against my backside, and his hard black cock shot
past my sphincter like a missile and tore into my rectum.  No mercy.  His
wet stomach melted into my lower back as he braced his hands on the
sawhorse to keep his balance.  My cock filled with blood as it fought to
get free of the rawhide bonds, which were digging deep into the flesh of my
ball sac and at the base of my dick.  The lack of any grease didn't help,
so the rim of my chute had now started to burn as if that missile had
exploded.

"Aahhh.  Now that's a tight piece of ass, my brotha's.  As you can see,
he's used to taking it however I give it to him.  Oh, he'll fight you, yes
he will, which makes it fun, but don't you think for a minute that he
doesn't want it.  He wants it.  The boy's a cock whore and he'll take it
good for ya every time."

He was right.  I did want it.  Rev's cock was so vile, so dark, and he was
such a vicious fucker, that I couldn't help but crave it even more as soon
as he buried it inside of me.  That's the part I'll never really
understand.  It just seemed to belong there.  I belonged to him, my ass
belonged to him, but his cock belonged inside my hole.  I could feel every
inch of it.  I could feel it in my neck, and my hands, and my thighs, and
my shoulders, and my chest.  I could feel it everywhere.  It was completely
viral.

Rev pushed and pulled his cock in and out of my ass.  With every stroke,
he'd let that pink head of his black dick come out, breathe, and then he'd
force it back in again.  Each time it stretched my rim wider and challenged
it as it tried to fight off the assault.  Each stroke felt like bullets,
shot from a gun straight into my gut.  The burning, the pressure, each ever
more intense, took hold of me.  More! I thought... This was why I was
willing to be here, and why I might stay.  MORE!

"Aaah, yeah... doesn't take long to break him down.  Look at that ass.
Hungry!  Yeah, that's an ass that needs a good rough fucking.  It's gonna
need to be pounded hard at least once a day.  And you're gonna need a
warrior cock to take on this ass.  Think about it before you contact us.
This ass has to be fed and fed regularly.  If that's what you want.  This
is your boy."

Rev was showing off my "skills," but he is also just a man, and he was hot
now, like I was.  He turned away from the camera and gripped my hips.  No
narration needed for the customer, just watch the demonstration...just
watch the test drive.

Rev was desperate.  His bloated cock needed to be emptied.  His rhythm
picked up... faster and faster... his groin slapped hard against the raw
cheeks of my ass... faster and faster... the fat head of his cock had made
contact with my prostrate, which had set off an explosion of nerves all
over... faster and faster... I did my best to raise my hips for him... to
let him know that YES this was it... this was why I was here... faster and
faster... he ignored me.... pushed me down against the wooden horse as if
to signal to me that no, we were not a team... Rev is in charge... we will
not be "one" as we fuck... faster and faster... in his mind, this was a
rape... faster and faster... Fuck me Rev... Fuck me
harder... harder!... HARDER!!!

"AARRGGHH!"  Rev's shot his load deep, coating the raw pink walls of my ass
with a thick mass of goo.  "AAHHH."

I looked down on the concrete floor in front of me to see a long thread of
milky white jizz dripping steadily from my cock.  It poured out like a
stream of piss and puddled like mercury on the ground.  Rev moved his hips
side to side as he finished me off and pushed deep one last time for the
final shot.  God, I was spent.  Totally exhausted.  Thank you Rev.  Thank
you for giving me that thick slice of hot black meat..  Thank you for
tearing me apart.  Thank you for destroying me.  Can I stay, I thought.
Can I stay here, tied to this horse?  Can I be the white pussy for your
black cock?  Can you fuck me again?  And again?  And again?  Can I be your
slave, Rev?  Your nasty whore?  The hole your dick fucks every morning? Can
I?

"So you see, my brotha's, he takes it all.  Did you notice how he
responded?  Did you see how his body needs that cock?  He's flesh and blood
to be sure, but really he's just a piece of ass, a nice tight piece of
faggot ass that needs at least one daily dose of cock to survive.  Lots of
cock.  The beauty here, if you want to use that word, is that he really
doesn't need much else.  So if you're looking for piece of tail that you
can lock up in the attic, this might be the one.  Throw him a sandwich once
a day, wash his ass before you fuck it, and that's about all you need to do
for this one.  He's a low maintenance whore.  He'd be a great buy for
someone who needs to add to the collection.  You need a second or a third
piece of ass?  You need some variety?  You need a cheap piece to hand over
to a special guest every once in a while?  Well, here you go.  This is the
boy for you."

As he talked, Rev kept his hand on my ass, occasionally popping it with his
open palm, as if to remind me, yet again, that he really didn't care much
about me.  I was just a piece of ass, a tight shitty cunt for his cock to
visit every so often.  And apparently, a piece of merchandise that needed
to be unloaded on some unsuspecting stranger on the other side of the
camera.  On that point, I did not approve.

"Oh, and I think it goes without saying, but I he's a good urinal, too.
And since I gotta take a piss, I'll show you that too."

Rev grabbed a wad of wet hair on the back of my head and lifted it
slightly.  With the other hand he ripped away the tape.  I kept my mouth
shut, knowing what might happen if I screamed.  I'd had enough cane for one
day.  Thank you very much..

"Open up, bitch.  You look thirsty."

I was hoping for a taste of that meaty pink mushroom, but I guess that was
too much to ask for at this point.  Besides, how could the clients judge my
piss drinking skills if the cock was scraping the back of my throat?  He
was right, though, about one thing.  I was thirsty.

"Now show the men what you can do.  And keep that chin clean.  I don't
wanna see any piss on my floor."  Rev let it fly.  I opened up my throat
and let it rush across my tongue and down into my stomach.  It was steamy
hot, and tasted like bitter herbs.  I loved it and was repulsed by it at
the same time.

"Nice.  Yeah, real nice.  Drink it up bitch.  It's gonna be a while before
you get much else."

As I swallowed Rev's piss, I noticed that I'd lost all control of my other
hole.  Rev's warm jizz was starting to drip from my ass, and it tickled
somewhat as it made its way down the back of my scrotum.  Frankly, I don't
think Rev cared... and of course he wasn't really in a position to see it
anyway.  I was just glad that jizz was the only thing left inside... if you
know what I mean.

"So there you go.  As I said, he's not typical, but I think he's worth the
price.  You let me know if you want a second look, and of course, you're
free to try him out for yourself if you think that's necessary.  Goodbye
for now."  Rev turned off the camera, pulled on an old jock strap, and left
the room with the tripod and the camera.

Rev was gone for while.  I assume he was editing and emailing the film to
his clients.  The fact that his bank account seemed more important than my
own comfort wasn't lost on me.  I was still tied to the sawhorse, with the
foul taste of his rank piss in my mouth and the feel of dried spunk on the
lips of my ass and sac.  It was a powerful message.  The only thing I could
do was to watch my own load dry into a hard shell on the floor.  I was
there for quite a while.  To say that I ached all over would be an
understatement.

This is the point I should make about being a slave, a real slave.  After
these men have used me, I don't get to walk away and take a shower and curl
up on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee.  Often, I'm just left there,
bound, and feeling like an empty soup can or a rotting piece of lettuce
left in the sink overnight.  It's the hardest part to accept.  The pain,
however intense, always fades.  The bruises always heal.  The scars
eventually disappear.  It's the loneliness and isolation that is sometimes
so disheartening and so permanent.  I'm no one's lover, and no one ever
treats me like one.  No one really cares.  I am, quite literally, a piece
of garbage.  (Willingly) disposable.  Human waste at its most vile.  I am
nobody, but I like it.  I just don't know why.

As is sometimes the case, I fell asleep, or maybe I passed out from the
shock.  Either way, when I woke, a partially dressed Rev was rubbing what
felt like warm olive oil onto my skin.  It smelled like olive oil.  I was
now lying on the cold concrete floor, but I was still sweating.  My wrists
were tied together with leather cuffs behind my back.  How did that happen?
The ropes around my ankles were gone, and thankfully, the tit clamps had
disappeared as well.  My cock was still wrapped in moist rawhide, but it
was flaccid now, so it didn't hurt much.

The warm oil felt good on my skin.  I wondered what time it was and what
would happen next.  I wasn't gagged, but he wasn't talking to me, so I kept
my mouth shut.  It seemed to be the safest choice.

As is often the case, the oil wasn't really meant to help me feel better.
It was meant to keep my flesh from peeling off as Rev grabbed my ankles and
dragged me across the concrete and stopped in front of a door.  He opened
it to reveal a closet; large walk-in sized, with a single overhead light, a
sink, a toilet, and a mattress.  Nothing else.

He pulled me in and motioned for me to role onto the mattress, which was
sitting on the floor without a frame or even sheets.  I did the best that I
could, but he ultimately had to help.  I really was a mess.

"You'll be fine here for now.  I'll bring you some food, but the cuffs stay
on, so you'll have to figure out that part by yourself.  I suggest you stay
quiet.  It's not like anyone's gonna hear you anyway, but I ain't in no
mood for your lip, so keep silent or I'll have to tape your mouth shut
again.  You understand?  If you need to take a shit, you can use the
toilet, but it don't flush and I ain't giving you no paper to wipe your ass
with.  You can do what you want as far as that goes.  Now get some rest.
I'll feed you when I get around to it.  And keep your mouth shut.  You can
consider that a threat, because it is."

Rev left and locked the door from the outside.  The room had no window,
heat, or air conditioning, but the stale air felt good enough.  I sat on
the mattress for a while then moved to the toilet.  I did need to take a
shit.  He'd cleaned me out really well, but the suction caused by the rape
had knocked loose whatever was left deep inside my bowels.  I sat on the
john and set free the contents of my ass.  The dark watery mix shot hard
into the bowl.  I stayed there for a while because the coolness from the
porcelain seat felt good on my backside.  Also, there was the need to drip
dry, since I had no paper, and of course, no way to use it even if I did.
My hands were still cuffed.

I then made my way to the sink.  I finally figured out a way to turn on the
water.  It was cold, which was good.  I put my head in the sink and lapped
up the fresh liquid.  I needed water.  I drank as much as I could hold.  I
followed that up with a nap, falling asleep with the smell of my own runny
shit floating in the air around me.  I was spent.  Death seemed like a
luxury at this point.

The sounds of Rev coming into my "room" woke me.  Groggy, I looked up to
see a man who looked as if he were channeling a 70's porn star.  Rev, in
all his blackness, was wearing black leather biker chaps.  His ass was
covered, but the front was cut away to reveal a long soft cock, still
framed by the silver cock ring.  He was also wearing a black mesh t-shirt,
4-5 sizes too small, that was cut off just below his nipples.  His gut was
dark and dry and hung unceremoniously over the thick black belt that served
to keep the chaps in place.  On his feet, black square-toed leather boots
with silver buckles.  Each of his wrists was wrapped with a leather
bracelet, trimmed in silver rivets.  As I said, he looked like a retired
porn star reliving the good old days.  But for some reason, he was still
very menacing and still extremely desirable.  This wasn't a costume.  It
was like a second layer of skin.  Clearly, he was very comfortable this
way.  This was the real Rev.

Rev was carrying two paper plates.  He walked half way into the room and
placed them on the floor.

"Dinner.  Now get on your knees and bend over.  That's how your gonna eat
from here on.  Get used to it.  I want your legs spread wide, too.  I'd
like to get a look at your cunt to see what kind of damage I did to it.
Hurry up, I got things to do."

I got into the position he demanded.  On one plate was a mix of raw leafy
greens covered in cold cooked chicken pieces.  A thin layer of dressing
coated everything.  On the other plate sat a mix of fruit: sliced bananas,
chopped apple, grapes, and a few strawberries.  I think he emptied his
refrigerator and this is what I ended up with.  I was hungry, very hungry,
so I didn't complain.

Just as I bent over to bite into the salad, Rev shot hot piss onto my ass,
right onto my hole.  Why not, I thought?  Why not?

"Ain't nothing worse than seeing a shit stained cunt.  Damn, I hate that,
you nasty bitch."

The hot piss that dripped down my legs actually felt good.  I can't explain
it, but I felt privileged to have him piss on my "cunt."  I know; it's
weird.  I ate as quickly as I could without choking.  Rev stood there for a
minute or so, then walked around to the other side of the room, leaving the
door open.  (Like I was going anywhere?  No.)

I heard Rev unfastening his belt.  I looked up from my plate in time to see
Rev pushing his chaps down to his ankles.  He grabbed his butt cheeks and
then sat down on the toilet I'd fouled up earlier.  I kind of froze for a
second, a bit surprised.

"Keep eating.  Like I said, I got things to do."  Rev grinned and squeezed
out a healthy load of shit.  "Ahhh.  Damn.  Yeaaah."

I know, again, gross, and for me, unappetizing as well.  But this is how it
works, and I'm not going to hold back at this point.  It's too therapeutic
for me, so deal with it.

Rev sat there, watching me try to eat like a dog, until he'd unloaded
everything he had.  Then he stood up and walked over to me.  On the ground
next to the plate was a paper towel.  He picked it, ran some water on it
from the sink, then squatted next to the plate and wiped his ass several
times, checking the towel after each swipe, just to make sure he was
getting it all.  He then walked back to the toilet and tossed the towel
into the bowl.

"Now get over here, and be quick about it."

I walked on my knees to the toilet.  He pushed his chaps down so that they
rested on his thighs, and put one foot on the edge of the bowl.  He twisted
slightly and grabbed my head and forced my face into the crack of his ass.

"Wash my ass, bitch.  And make sure you get that tongue up in my shitty
hole and clean it up right.  You leave anything and I'll rip you apart with
that cane.  Yeah, that's it.  Do it right.  Yeah... Yeah."

The smell coming from the john was beyond foul, so I tried not to look and
instead focus on the task at hand.  It actually didn't take long, and
wasn't as bad as I had anticipated.  It wasn't the first time I'd been
forced to clean someone's hole.  Master had done this to me as well.  But
with Rev, it seemed more sexual.  Unlike Master, Rev was actually getting a
hard on from it.  This was one sick bastard.

After Rev left, I curled up on the bed with the taste of his stench still
in my mouth.  I looked down and saw that my cock was rock hard.  I was so
hot for more of this man's abuse.  I imagined the pleasure of his cock in
my ass.  I closed my eyes and thought about the fucking he'd given me only
a few hours earlier.

The erection wouldn't die.  Rev's piss was still on the floor, so I rolled
off of the bed and lay on the concrete.  I pushed my cock into the puddle
and let his piss coat my entire crotch.  I rubbed my cock against the
concrete as fast and as hard as I could until I shot a small wad into the
warm urine that he'd used to wash my dirty ass.  Unwilling to climb back
onto the mattress, I just stayed right there, on the concrete, coated in
piss.  I slept like a baby.

I slept there all night.  When I woke, my bladder was empty, and I found
myself drenched in my own piss.  I got up on my knees and crawled to the
mattress.  Wow, I thought.  This was very comfortable.  I stayed there,
staring at the ceiling, high on the odor of human waste, until Rev finally
came in.  It was Sunday morning.  Finally, it was Sunday morning.

Rev was still sporting his chaps, but was also wearing a white jock strap
and tight fitting black t-shirt that was also cut off just below the
nipples.  He was wearing his glasses this morning, and he was carrying
another plate.  This one contained several pieces of buttered toast, cut
into pieces, and lukewarm bacon.  I ate my breakfast like a dog while Rev
gave my cunt another bath of warm piss.  If he noticed the extra urine in
the floor, he didn't mention it.  Nor did he say anything about the odor.
Why would he?  This was my natural environment now.  It's what he thought I
deserved.  I'm sure he liked knowing that I was rolling around in his old
piss puddles just to bust my own nut and then sleeping in it.  He tossed a
large white blanket onto the floor and moved it around with his boot.  The
blanket absorbed most of the liquid, and he casually pushed it outside of
the room.

"You still working at that college?"

"Yes."

"And what happens when you don't show up tomorrow morning?  Someone gonna
go looking for you?  Call the cops?"

"No.  It's fall break.  The students are gone, and my office is closed
until Thursday.  No one will notice.  Why?"

"Huhhh.  Lucky me."  Rev seemed pleased upon hearing this, but ignored my
question.  I guess he was planning on returning me later that day, but now
he didn't have to.  I regretted my honesty.  Really.  I really regretted
it.

"I'll get you back on Wednesday, but then you're gonna call into work on
Thursday and let them know you're not coming back.  You're done working at
the college."

"WHAT!?"

"You heard me bitch.  I said you're done.  I got a couple of inquiries last
night and I'll have your ass sold by tomorrow I figure, if not, we'll find
someone who might want you.  So you'll be leaving here soon.  Might as well
make a clean break.  I don't need nobody snooping around asking questions."

"Look..."

"NO! YOU LOOK!  I done told you I was gonna sell your nasty ass, and that's
it.  We ain't playin' this game no more.  You ain't got a choice here.  AND
don't think I'm just gonna let you wander off and disappear.  Paulus and a
few others are packing up your place this weekend and selling whatever we
think you don't need.  What we decide you get to keep we'll store away at
the motel.  This deal's done been made.  So shut the fuck up and start
thinking about what you're gonna say to the boss when you call in."

"NO.  NO.  NO.  Not this time.  No one is selling anything I own.  Now let
me go.  NOW."

"I'll let your ass go.  When I'm damn good and ready.  But when I do, I'll
be headin' for the bank and your sorry butt will be in a cage on the way
outta here for good.  You GOT THAT?"

Rev bolted towards me and snatched me by the dog collar he'd left on my
neck and jerked me off balance and dragged me over to the toilet.  He
pushed my head into the bowl, stopping just inches from the old shit.  He
then grabbed my waist and stood me up on my feet.  He unfastened his belt
and ripped it from the chaps.  Before I knew it, he'd landed it across my
thighs, hard.  The cracking sound filled the room with echoes as he
continued to attack me.  I closed my eyes, held my breath, and braced
myself as best I could.

Rev ripped into my ass and thighs relentlessly.  This was a rage whipping.
He wanted it to hurt and hurt badly.  I'd had these before.  I knew the
difference.

"That's my old shit you're smelling bitch!  And that's what you are.  A
shit-sniffing 'ho.  WHAAAP!  WHAAAP!  How DARE you question ME!  WHAAAP!
WHAAAP!  We own your ass.  You gave it up months ago.  WHAAAP!  WHAAAP!
WHAAAP!  WHAAAP!  You hear me?  YOU HEAR ME YOU SHITTY COCKSUCKER!?"

"YES! YES! I HEAR YOU!  JUST STOP HITTING ME YOU STUPID NIGGER.  STOP!
STOP!"

(Yeah.  I had the same thought.  Oops.)

Rev pushed me onto the floor.  I shouldn't have used the N-word.  Clearly,
that was a major mistake.  I looked at his face, and all I saw was raw
animal fury.  I was crying, aching, and my chest was heaving from the fear.
Rev grabbed my ankles and pulled me out of the room and into the main
space.  He dragged me across the concrete to the center of his large empty
torture chamber.

He helped my stand up, which was hard considering what I'd just been given.
He took a rope and knotted it around the chain that connected to two
leather wrist cuffs I'd been wearing behind my back.  He tossed the rope
over the pipe above me and tightened it in such a way as to lift my arms
slightly in the air behind me while also forcing me to bend forward from
the waist.  This was wildly uncomfortable.  Purely a military prison move
on his part, and not meant to aid in any secondary pleasure a slave might
experience.

Rev walked slowly to his toy box and returned with a small fat butt plug.
He spit a large wad of snot onto it and pushed it into my ass.  I screamed
out, which only served as an invitation for him to rip on my ass with his
open palm several times.

Rev walked out of the room and into the main part of the house.  He left me
there to deal with the burning shoulders that felt as if they might soon
pull loose from the sockets.  When he returned he was carrying a large
heavy ottoman, the kind that one would find in front of a sofa or club
chair.  He placed it in front of me and had me kneel on top of it, which
did help somewhat with the shoulder issues.

But Rev wasn't finished.  He went into his toy chest and returned with a
thick piece of leather.  Not a belt, just a thick piece of leather.  He
then let loose on my ass with everything he had to give.  Each blow was
delivered with intense force.  After each whipping he paused long enough
for me to absorb it fully.  He'd then catch his breath, wind up, and rip
into me again.  He looked like he swinging a baseball bat. Torture.  Sheer
torture.

I screamed out as loudly and as often as I could.  If there were even a
small chance that someone might hear, I wanted to take it.  Someone please
save me.  PLEASE!  But no one did.  The screaming and the pleading did
nothing to slow him down.  Rev was not a man with a lot of empathy.  He
didn't care.  He was going to beat everything out of me that went against
what he wanted from me.  Everything.

He whipped me on and off for over two hours.  Occasionally he would take a
break, drink a swig from a water bottle, piss somewhere, and walk around
the room.  Then he would start again.  At some point, I finally stopped
screaming.  There was nothing left to scream about.  There was no one
around to hear me.

The whipping I received from Rev on that particular Sunday was by far the
single worst beating I'd ever been required to endure.  The bruises took
weeks to heal.  Had I been given this treatment earlier in my "career," it
would have probably killed me.  That's not an exaggeration.  I can only
assume that I'd developed some sort of tolerance for this kind of thing.
That's not to say that it wasn't bizarre in it's intensity, but it probably
saved me in the end.  I don't recommend it.  I'd crossed a line, but still.

After he finished, he cut the ropes and let me collapse on top of the
ottoman.  I was bawling like a baby.  In a final act of contempt, Rev
straddled me and pissed on the back of my neck, soaking my hair, and
leaving me covered in urine, tears, and sweat.

This had been a horrible weekend, and a life changing one as well.  In the
course of 48 hours, I'd been caught in a thunderstorm, chained to the front
of a truck, given to and eventually raped by two truck drivers in a rest
stop, sold to and used by a gang of drug dealers, left naked in a public
restroom, kidnapped by Rev, beaten nearly into a coma, been informed that I
was to quit my job, and been told to say goodbye to all of my earthly
belongings.  I know.  It sounds like a little too much to believe.  But
that really is what happened.  My poor dead father would have been so
proud.

Rev left me on the ottoman to recover, which took a while.  During that
time, he cleaned the john in my room by turning on the water to the flusher
and scrubbing it down with bleach, which I appreciated.  It didn't kill the
stench completely, but it helped I guess.  Anyway, he turned off the
flushing system again, so I knew what the inevitable would be.

As for me, maybe he realized that he'd crossed some sort of line, too; the
one that Masters aren't supposed to cross.  Maybe.  Aside from the standard
whippings, which are brutal enough, I didn't receive any more serious
beatings that week.  He checked my bruises a couple of times, never
apologized, but he kept it pretty clean after that... for what it's worth.
Unfortunately, I'm not perfect, so as I said, I got more a lot belt that
week, just not the coma-causing kind.

After a few hours in my jail cell, Rev dragged me out for a Sunday night
ass pounding.  Without a lot of pretense, Rev cleaned me out, pushed me
onto my knees, right there over the drain in the middle of the floor, and
without a drop of lubricant, gave my ass an extremely long and very dry
fuck.  I'd be lying if I said I hated it.  I didn't, but I should have
hated it, and hated him.  I don't know how he does it, or why, but having
Rev's cock buried inside my shitter, wet or dry, clean or dirty, just sends
me over the edge every time.  I'm not even sure if he knows it, but there
is not another cock on the planet that does to me what his does.  I think
every slave and every bottom feels that way about someone.  Rev isn't my
actual Master, but his cock owns the dark side of my soul, without
question.  I'd drop my trousers and let him fuck me bloody in the pulpit of
my own grandmother's church if I had half a chance.  His cock is that
addictive.

After he finally dropped his load, he had me squat until his jizz dripped
out of ass and into his hand.  He rubbed it onto my cock, letting it dry
there, and then put me to bed.  On this night, I had a blanket.  He also
removed the leather cuffs (finally) and the rawhide cock bindings.  Of
course, I was warned not to touch myself.  He fully expected the dried cum
to be visibly present the next morning.  That was a tall order, because I
really wanted to whack off with his wad as lube, but I resisted.  I was
grateful for the final fucking, and so I wanted to tell him that I wouldn't
run, but he padlocked me into my cell before I could muster the courage to
speak.

I woke up on Monday morning to the sounds of screaming and the distinctive
echo of leather on flesh.  Only it wasn't a nightmare, and the screams
weren't my own.  What the fuck?  The door to my room was open, and I wasn't
tied down or anything, so I quietly crawled over to the doorway and peeked
out into the chamber.  I couldn't believe it.  Hanging from the center of
the room was a young bushy headed blond kid, arms raised, and about
eighteen years of age, if that.  He was short (5'5" maybe), extremely thin,
as pale as a ghost, and covered in red marks.  Sitting in front of him was
another young white man, prematurely balding, moustache, also small in
stature, cuffed up in a familiar way, and sucking feverishly on the blond's
cock.  Rev was wearing a thick gold chain around his neck, black biker
boots, and absolutely nothing else but sweat.  His cock was full and hard
as a rock.  He was having one hell of a good time swinging his brown suede
belt at the backside of the poor blond teenager.

I wanted to watch up close, but I knew I shouldn't.  I'd never scene this
kind of thing from this angle before.  I'd only lived it.  I was
mesmerized.  Honestly, I felt really badly for the kid, he was screaming
for Rev to stop, but Rev wouldn't.  His cock was hard though, which I could
see as the bald guy bobbed his head on it.  Did he like this?  I don't
know, but oddly, I kind of felt a little jealous, too.

To Be Continued...

I'll stop here, and publish the rest of the chapter in a few days.  I know
what some of you are thinking: "Great, another month!"  No, I've written it
already, but this chapter is much longer than most, so I'm splitting it so
the folks at Nifty don't panic or feel the need to edit it.  I apologize
for how dark my life had turned for a while, and I hope it hasn't turned
off too many of you.  But the end is in sight, and I do actually end up in
a good place.  I'll tell you about that, too... in a few weeks.  In the
meantime, drop us a line.  We always try to answer.

CXG