Date: Thu, 23 Jun 2005 18:42:31 +0100 (BST)
From: WILL OBE <will.obe@btinternet.com>
Subject: OBEYING ROLLO 7

"Can't get enough of it, can you? You fucking whore."

Now I can see Rollo. He's shouting angrily from a gantry above my head.

"Wait there boy." Rollo slides down the equivalent of a fireman's pole.

He strides towards me wearing rather fetching blue football shorts. More
worrying he has both a cane and a belt in his hand. I've never seen him
look so fierce and angry. He grabs hold of my prick, pulls me to the
fireman's pole and binds my wrist around it with the belt.

"I've been watching you for a half-hour you fucking slag."

The cane swishes down on my naked butt. I scream and jump around trying to
avoid the next strike. He follows me and lashes me again and again.

"First, you bitch, you're fucked by the slave gardener," he yells

I dodge around the pole, but he lands blow after blow.  I start crying like
a little boy.

"Then allow yourself to be sucked off by that nancy cook slave."

No matter how much I run from one side of the pole to the other, the cane
lashes follow. I scream for him to stop, but he's too aroused to even hear
me.

"You fucking bitch. Are you mine or aren't you?"

"Yes, you know I am Rollo... Master. Please... please Master forgive me."
I'm sobbing and gasping.

"Ten more you bitch. Stand still or I'll double them."

Can I? I rest my forehead against the cold steel of the pole and will
myself not to move. I've done it before; I must do it now. I must do it to
please my Master... my Rollo. I'm in a public square, naked before the
towns' people, people I know, being punished, degraded and humiliated.

"Ten." I hear Rollo shout at last and I slump down on my knees, my bottom
aflame with such spasms of pain I can't stop weeping.

I see Rollo's feet at the side of me. He squats down and gently takes my
head against his shoulder as I sob my heart out. I'm crying, not so much
because of the pain in my arse, but at the thought I've upset my one and
true Master.

"In future ask my permission babe," his voice has lost its edge and his
hands are roaming over my naked body, patting my back, giving me comfort. I
notice he's covered his neck slave brand with a patch the same colour as
his skin.

"Col didn't give me much chance," I try to explain.

"Yeah I know. He's got his coming. But what about the inside dog? You let
him blow you."

"Well er... I thought it might be you or Master Sinclair."

"Bollocks! Don't kid me, you wanted it. Don't lie or I'll beat you again."

"Okay, I'm sorry, but you weren't here. What could I do?"

"Yeah... well I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"If you must know, shagging the bloody major domo. He might be getting on,
but in those pink knickers I found him a real hot turn-on. So absolutely
submissive and a great fuck."

"More submissive than me Master?"

"No. Who could be more sub than my little girlie bumboy slave "

"But would you like me in pink knickers?" I ask coyly.

"Yeah, why not? I'll suggest it to Sinclair."

"Oh please! No, I was joking."

"You'll do as you're told boy." He bites my neck hard and I yelp. "Come and
see my room."

It's on the first floor in a different direction to Master Sinclair's room
with a terrace overlooking a tennis court. A king size bed, sofa, TV and a
wonderful en-suite shower and bathroom. I can see Rollo is more than
happy. He pulls me onto the bed and I lie in his arms with one of his hands
cupping my bottom and the other twisting my nipples in turn. He kisses me,
our lips pressed together, his tongue's moving into my mouth when there's a
knock on the door.

"Come in." Rollo holds me to him.

The door opens. It's Viv, still naked, but for his pink knickers. He's
carrying a chain leash.

"Excuse me Master, but you instructed me to attend to the slave Ian."

"Oh yeah, forgot. Take him." Rollo releases me and pushes me off the bed
with his foot.

"But Rollo..."

"Shut your mouth boy. See to him Viv."

Rollo turns away and turns on the television. Viv attaches the leash around
my neck, leads me out of the room and down the stairs. He opens another
door and we go down red tiled steps to a huge open-plan basement room,
which must be the same floor area as the whole house. It has a red tiled
floor, white tiled walls and is brightly lit. Along one side there's what I
think might be boiler and filtration equipment for the swimming
pool. Perhaps the rest of the space is Master Sinclair's playroom? But
there are no stocks or slings or piss tubs or a St Andrew's cross. There's
only a row of white cupboards that might contain punishment equipment. Then
I realise it's really more of a gym with weight training and exercise
apparatus. At the far end I spot a timber sauna cabin and next to this two
showers, a bidet, a toilet without a seat and, what I recognise from past
experience, a low metal table with specially fitted enema equipment. Viv
leads me straight to the table and removes the leash.

"Up you get. On all fours. I'm sure you know the drill Ian." I'm struck by
the gentle tone of his posh voice.

As he expertly greases the nozzle, inserts it, fills me up, makes me wait
for several minutes and then watches me sit down on the toilet and expel
the enema, he talks to me.

"After I've cleaned, shaved and showered myself each morning it's my
responsibility to do the same for each slave living in the house. There's a
slave toothbrush to clean your own teeth, but I do everything else."

"Sounds okay to me," I said. "Quite nice in fact."

"Yes, I think it should be. And I enjoy doing it. Col sometimes has one of
his butch tantrums at being treated as a fuck slave, but I've solved that
by adding some vodka to his enema." Viv laughs.

After my third flush out, Viv lies me down flat and starts shaving my
armpits.

"Do you always have to wear pink knickers?"

"When Master Sinclair orders. He enjoys humiliating me in women's clothes.
Especially when he invites guests."

"And you?"

"I never tire of it. Having to wear knickers in front of guests or young
slaves like you is a big turn on for me. Feel my cock."

I reach out and feel the long bulge in the pink knickers. It's so rock hard
and I can feel he's circumcised. I move my hand down over his big balls and
feel with my finger between his legs. He spreads his legs a little as he
starts to shave my prick and testicles. I wriggle my finger inside the
crotch of his pink knickers and insert it into his anus. It's
greased. Ready to be used. Viv pants a little as my finger explores. He
moves away abruptly and my finger's dislodged.

"I think you better turn over Ian and pull your cheeks apart."

"I don't need shaving there," I explain as I turn and use my hands to
spread my cheeks.

"I'll be the judge of that young man." He lightly runs his fingers over my
puckered hole. I shiver at his touch, wishing he would shag me with his
stiff rod.

"Know something Viv? I find it very humiliating to be fucked by another
slave."

"Really? Is that an invitation?"

"Yes sir, please fuck me sir," I said.

"Sorry Ian, I'm a bitch like you. I only fuck on the orders of a
Master. And you must not call me sir. Now come with me to the shower."

Disappointed, I hop off the table and follow Viv to the shower. Any thought
of sex vanishes when he turns on the ice cold shower and holds me under
it. He turns it off and rubs me all over with shower gel.

"Your hair's growing well Ian," he remarks as he rubs my head vigorously.

He washes my face, ears and nostrils. My armpits, chest, back, bottom,
belly, crotch, between my legs and lastly my boycunt. He douses me in icy
water again to wash off the soap and then rubs me dry with a large soft
bath towel.

"Bend over Ian, feet well apart, " Viv orders.

I feel a dollop of grease applied to my boycunt and first one and then two
of his fingers work it up into my arse. Wow! That feels so hot. He is going
to fuck me.

"Good. You're ready to be used by anyone with the inclination to do
so. Here, wear these."

I straighten up. Viv hands me some short denim cut-offs.

"I may as well be naked." I can feel with my hands that the bottoms of my
arse cheeks are well and truly on show.

"Master Sinclair does not allow total nakedness except when he orders
it. He prefers to see us wearing hardly anything. And he hasn't a dungeon
or anything like that because he prefers to use and see his slaves used in
ordinary domestic situations. Now, back to Rollo."

Feeling refreshed and hot for sex I run up the steps from the basement and
make for the stairs.

"In here boy." Rollo's voice from the main reception room to the right.

The double doors are wide open. I enter the large, luxuriously furnished
lounge and see Master Sinclair, smoking a cigar, and Rollo sitting in
armchairs, drinks in their hands. Sitting opposite on a long leather sofa
is a visitor, also holding a glass. He's tall and broad shouldered with a
strong lean face and cold blue eyes. What really gets my attention is his
smart black outfit; the full uniform of a New York motor cycle cop with
knee high boots, night-stick, pistol and handcuffs. I stand halfway between
my Masters and the visitor sitting on the sofa.

"This is our new slaveboy Ian. What do you think of him Morgan?" Said
Master Sinclair.

"Cute. Pretty even. Like the full wide mouth and the luscious rounded
butt. Pity you've shaved his head." Surprisingly, or perhaps not, the
visitor speaks with an English rather an American accent.

"Not guilty to that. A previous owner cut off his long blond hair. But he's
growing it again, aren't you boy?"

"Yes Master."

"May I have a closer look?"

"That's what he's here for. Drop your shorts and let Master Morgan inspect
you boy."

I drop the cut-offs, step out of them, move forward and stand naked in
front of Master Morgan, my feet apart and my hands on the back of my neck.

"Pull back your foreskin boy."

I roll it back over the knob and hold my stiff prick up for his inspection
while the others watch.

"Let me see you masturbate boy."

For some reason, pumping my own prick as I stand naked in front of three
men is still a most humiliating experience. An animal slave performing for
his Masters.

"Put a finger up your cunt boy."

I bend forward slightly, spread my knees, insert the index finger of my
left hand into my greased hole and wank harder. Males might do this in the
privacy of their rooms, but not in public. Master Morgan monitors my red
face as I pant and grimace, mouth open, near to climax.

"Stop boy."

Master Morgan puts down his glass, runs a fingertip over my piss slit and
feeds my own pre-cum into my mouth. I lick it clean. He runs his hands over
my legs and thighs, feels the hardness of my prick then slides his hands up
my belly, over my chest and squeezes my nipples.

"Now your back boy," he orders.

I turn around. My other two Masters can now watch my face as Master Morgan
runs his hands down from my shoulders to my narrow waist and then fondles
my naked bubble butt cheeks. He inserts a finger between my arse cheeks and
finger fucks my greased boycunt. I automatically move backwards and
forwards on his finger wishing it were something bigger. I can see Rollo
frowning in disapproval.

"See he has your cigar mark Sinclair. I like that. More subtle than the
red-hot brand I normally use. I congratulate you, he's just the sort of
little girlie fuck-bitch I like. Can I have him tonight?"

"Why not Morgan? I'm sure Rollo won't object."

"Couldn't care less so long as I have Col and Raj."

"That's a deal then," said Sinclair.

While happy to be handed over as a slave to this handsome pseudo cop, I'm
less happy that Rollo agrees so readily and says he wants Sinclair's two
slaves in exchange. Master Morgan stands up, takes a leash from his jacket
pocket, fastens it around my neck and forces me down onto my hands and
knees.

"Let's go boy."

Master Morgan pulls me behind him out of the lounge and up the staircase. I
scamper like a puppy to keep up with his long strides, my bare knees
becoming sore. We enter a large, luxurious guest room similar to Rollo's,
but additionally furnished with a set of head stocks, a small cage with
iron bars and a modern stainless steel version of a medieval rack. He pulls
me alongside the headstocks and lifts the top bar.

"Get up boy. Head and wrists on the bottom bar."

I bend into position and place my neck and wrists on the bar, He drops the
top bar and I'm secured. He kicks my legs apart and slaps my arse hard. I
can't help yelping with pain.

"That's the last sound you make boy. No matter what, I expect my slaves to
remain silent. Understand?"

"Yes Master,"

He steps in front of me and stands with his arms folded and his legs apart
exhibiting his bulging crutch. Wow! This I want to be a slave to.

"You're now my slave boy."

"Yes Master."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes Master, please Master." I'm not being disloyal to Rollo; I'm a slave.

"Is this what you want boy." He hefts his huge package with both hands.

"Oh, please Master."

"You'll have to show you're worthy of it first boy. Let me first explain
you're position.  I've caught you after stopping you in a car, which you
stole and used for joy riding. Do you admit the charge?"

		"Yes Master."

		"I'm giving you the choice of being arrested or punishment
by me."

		"I'll accept whatever punishment you decide Master."

"I'm going to make you strip naked in front of a street crowd that's
watching. Men, women and teenagers. A lot of them know you and want to see
you stripped completely naked and punished in front of them."

"Yes Master. I'll strip as you say Master." My prick's rock hard as I
imagine this scenario.

"So boy, you're now bent over naked underneath a street lamp ready to be
spanked. One more thing. Open your mouth."

He swings his night-stick in front of my face and then inserts it into my
mouth.

"If you let this drop, I'll know you need more severe
punishment. Understand?"

I nod my head and clamp my teeth firmly on the thick stick. He starts
spanking me. Lightly, but rapidly at first. One cheek and then the
other. Now harder, much harder. I begin to wriggle and close my legs
together. He smacks my lower legs until I open them as far apart as
possible. Slower, but now much more viscous slaps. He must be swinging his
arm well back and giving has hand maximum momentum for each blow. I'm
screaming in my head if not in reality and I can feel tears running down my
face. I know I'm a slave and deserve whatever punishment my Master decides,
but let it end soon please. One blow, to my surprise, suddenly lands on my
upper back. I open my mouth and the stick drops to the floor. The spanking
stops. As I gasp for breath I hear him crossing the room and then returning
to stand in front of me. He has a short whip in his hand.

"So boy, you need more severe punishment?"

"No Master, please."

"But you dropped my night-stick." He picks it up.

"I'm sorry Master."

"Rules are rules slave. Now suck it."

He pushes the night-stick in and out of my mouth and I slobber on it as I
would a Master's cock. He removes it, walks behind me and rams it deep into
my arse hole. I scream out.

"Shut the fuck up you dog or I'll gag you."

The first few lashes of the whip landing on my already tender bottom, above
and below the protruding night-stick, sting without hurting much. I begin
yelling when the whip begins landing on my thighs and especially curling
around to catch my inner thighs. Each hard whiplash strikes like a wasp
sting. From ankles to thighs, to buttocks, to back to shoulders. Now I do
start screaming out loud and I flail my legs in all directions trying to
dodge lashes that cannot be dodged. I simply expose more of my naked body
to him. He ignores my screams and seems more concerned with deliberately
landing his lashes at a steady pace. It goes on and on. Then suddenly he
stops, removes the night-stick and replaces it with his big cock. After the
thrashing, being fucked is something different again and I thrust backwards
and forwards in motion with his cock. He's panting with obvious excitement
at subduing his slave prisoner and fucking him publicly under a street
light. I share his excitement at the vision of me being publicly humiliated
in this way. Now he screams out loud as he bucks backwards and forwards
spurting torrents of his seed into me. He withdraws and I feel his spunk
running down my inner thighs.

"Are you my slave boy?" He stands in front of me and I'm surprised to see,
but for his boots, he's completely naked showing off a stunning muscular
and hairy torso.

"Yes Master, I'm your obedient slave."

As I say this I realise he's covered in blood. And it must be my
blood. This guy's kink is to whip a slave till he bleeds and then fuck
him. It's my first time and can't believe it. Pain yes, but being beaten
till I bleed - no way. And what about the scars? I pride myself on my
smooth, unblemished body and most Masters go for me because of it. I sniff
back on my tears. His feel the dribbles of his spunk reaching my ankles.

"Good boy. You struggle and you bleed well. I like to see that. And it's a
dream fucking your tight boycunt."

"Thank you Master." I say it sincerely, hoping he's now satisfied.

"We haven't finished yet boy. You just rest there while I clean up for the
next session."

He walks away. Rest! He must be joking. Head and wrists still in the
stocks, the rest of my body throbbing with pain; there's no rest.

Any observations on this chapter would be appreciated.
will.obe@btinternet.com


Will Obe (c) Copyright