Date: Sun, 27 Apr 2008 17:47:48 +0200 From: Batardsm Subject: Skin fuck 3 Periodically his Master yanked on the chain making him lose his footing and stumble along behind him. He was keeping him on edge all the time, showing him that he was not in control, that if he wanted to, his Master could make him fall on his face on the floor. Whenever this would happen, the slave would pathetically try to pull out his arms in front of him to stop any fall but he couldn't because they were cuffed behind his back. This didn't stop the automatic reaction and his wrists were starting to hurt where they pulled against the unwelding steel of the cuffs. But the aching in his wrists was nothing like the aching in his groin. His dick was as hard as rock, pushing roughly against his combat trousers, making his balls hurt by tightening the cock and ball torture device he had been made to wear. He had completely forgotten about the plug in his arse. When it went in without any lube he thought that his arse would split it was so painful, but now it felt at home there. His arse was very full but that was a good thing not bad. It was a part of his Master that was in him, possessing him and that felt right. Natural. He didn't care that it would be so painful as to bring tears to his eyes when he took a shit for the next few days. Again that was the way of his life now. Pain a part of his everyday existence. Then came another yank and stumble. Cold steel thrust against aching wrists. They were now getting closer and closer to the main road. He could hear some voices in the distance and the noise of passing traffic. He started to panic. The mud and vomit had now completely dried on his face, making him look as if he had been dragged along the floor or worse. His hands handcuffed behind his back and being led on a chain by a large skinhead. Everybody would know, would know his position as this other man's slave and fuck toy. A part of him was very proud to be this horny and manly skin head's property, to be shown to the world as belonging to his Master. A strong and determined Master. But the bigger part of him was embarrassed. He started pulling back on the chain around his neck. This has to stop. It had gone too far now. He didn't want the world to know what he was. What he wanted and needed. He wasn't really a worthless piece of shit. He was a man and he should behave like one. He deserved respect. All of a sudden he was flying through the air. His feet had gone, just been taken from beneath him. His arms tried to flail around to help to him get his balance but they were helpless. He had no choice but just to fall. His Master had yanked the chain again but harder this time and had caught him off guard. Then he stopped falling. His Master had caught him before he hit the floor. His face was now in his Master's Fred Perry. He could feel his Master's strong arms under his armpits. The hard stomach muscles under the Perry. The smell of fresh sweat filled his nostrils. The horny smell of a real man. No deodorant. Just masculinity. "You try and defy me again cunt and next time the only thing stopping your fall will be your face!" He was breathing heavily but had the good sense to say "thank you Sir." "Think you need to learn some humility boy." His Master pushed him upright dismissively, like he was wiping some bird shirt off his t-shirt. He wobbled a bit but managed to keep upright. Next thing his Master is playing with the fly to his slave's combats. And then with his own. For the first time the slave saw his Master's dick. It was about 7 inches even when flaccid. It was uncut and heavy, the veins bulging down its shaft and its large head hidden in the folds of its foreskin. He wanted. He really wanted his Master's cock now. Really badly. A need just welled up inside him. The need to touch his Master's cock. To touch the centre of his Master's manhood. To have it fill his mouth. To stretch and fill his arse. He was entranced. But it wasn't to be. His Master shoved his cock through the fly of his slave's combats. He could just feel his Master's cock brush against his. He shuddered like he had been touched by some electricity. His own cock fought against its bindings even harder. Swelling further. Then he felt the hot stream over his own dick. Running down the inside of his left leg. A river of his Master's piss drenched his cock and legs. He bowed his head. He felt so humiliated. The more the piss flowed the more the will to fight this man was washed away. The more he wanted to be owned by him. To be stripped down to the bare bones. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. His Master took away his own cock and closed his own fly. He whispered, without raising his head or opening his eyes the words "Sir, thank you so much Sir." He could then feel the piss turning cold and clammy, sticking the combats to his legs. He knew without looking that his combats now had large piss stains down their front. Everybody would know that they were still wet piss stains, would probably think that he had pissed himself. Some might even guess that they were the piss of another man. That he was so lowly that he had allowed another man to piss on him. His Master had not closed his slave's fly and now he found out why, as his Master reached in and roughly grasped his dick and balls and pulled them through the fly. His hard cock wedged itself inside the combats but it was no match for his Master and was yanked into the outside world. He winced. He could now feel the cold breeze on his balls and cock. His balls tried to escape into his body but were trapped by the leather cock and ball device. He thought his cock would burst because it was so full, betraying to the outside world how much of a pervert its owner really was. The humiliation was now complete. He face was covered in mud and vomit. Collared, chained and handcuffed. And now wet with another man's piss, with his cock and balls being shown to anybody who passed. He had tried to defy, to struggle against his Master's will and this was the result. He was now in a worse position than before. He had to learn. And the lessons were coming thick and fast. A tug on the chain told him to follow his Master. He opened his eyes but kept his head bowed. They walked for about ten minutes. He didn't look up. He just looked at his own feet and the ground. He then became aware that the sound of voices was a lot louder and definitely nearer. He could hear laughing and the sound of motorbike engines being revved up. They had reached the lay-by at the junction with the 24 hour tea hut on it. He hadn't realised that they had come so far. He knew from being with previous Masters who were bikers that this tea hut up on the heath was a well known meeting point for bikers from all over London and South East England. There were some gay bikers but they were mainly straight, with girlfriends riding pillion or just out on their own meeting up with mates. The noise stopped. No more talking. Even the engines weren't being revved anymore, just idling. He did not dare look up. He knew what was happening. Some of the bikers, in their skin tight leather outfits had spotted the spectacle of the tall skinhead with his slave on a collar and chain. They were now pointing him out to their friends. Pointing out the mud and vomit on his face, the handcuffs and the collar and chain. They were whispering about the huge enslaved boner sticking out of his piss stained combats. They would know what he was and that he enjoyed it. He heard some wolf whistling. Again he didn't look up. Although a part of him wanted to run away, this was now being overshadowed by the part of him that needed this humiliation. But he did not know then that his humiliation was not yet complete.