Date: Thu, 2 Sep 2021 20:15:05 -0400
From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com>
Subject: The Cockpig 7

This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in
whole or in part without the author's consent.  Copyright 2021 by Jeff
Hamby.  All rights reserved.

Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males
If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in
your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This
story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation
to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction.


If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business!
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html




The Cockpig


Chapter 7



Plateaus.  Every training regimen has them.  It doesn't matter what the
program is; if it's a progressive, goal-oriented training program, it's
going to have plateaus.  They can be deadly to progress.

Whether it's a weight loss regimen, or strength training, or body building,
there are two phases which are the most difficult – getting started,
which requires both motivation and momentum; and the plateaus, when it
appears no progress is being made, even with continued effort. Plateaus
kill both motivation and momentum.  Anyone that's accomplished significant
change can tell you, you have to push through the plateaus to reach your
goals.  If you don't, you stall, get frustrated, then finally give up due
to lack of results.

Plateaus happen when training faggots, too.  The important thing is to
remember that any faggot can perform better with proper training. So, do
not give in to your frustration at its failure to show improvement.  You
just have to push through the mental barriers your cum dump has encountered
with firmness, while applying some new techniques to help shake things up a
bit.  Otherwise, you'll never get rid of those barriers, the things some
people call "limits".  Always remember: people, who can make choices, have
limits which they themselves set; faggots, who don't get choices, just have
barriers which need to be removed. Removal of these mental barriers makes
the faggot far more useful, of course.  After all, there are only two
things which give a faggot value: its utility and its obedience.

The cockpig had been living with me for about four months when it hit its
first plateau.  Not that it wasn't performing up to par; I wouldn't have
tolerated that for a second.  No, it still performed as ordered, but its
performance wasn't improving. It had become a bit listless and not nearly
as responsive as it was before.  While it was still very obedient, that
look of fear was gone from its eyes.  Yes, it did everything it was told to
do, but there was no extra effort to please me. It was still giving 100%,
but not the 110% I'd expect from a cockpig eager to prove itself to its new
owner.

I decided it needed an additional push to get past this plateau, something
to motive it further.

So, I planned a party.  Invited some guys over to watch the game and see
the cockpig in action.

Not a big party, of course.  Just a small one, a chance to introduce a few
of my friends the cockpig and give them a chance to inspect the new
property.  I discovered very early on that the pig was really quite shy.
Being made to do anything in public which revealed what it was, anything
which showed the world what it was good for, was deeply humiliating and
degrading to the cockpig, so of course I made such things a high priority.
Part of effectively training a subhuman slave is identifying all those
psychological barriers to its service, then relentlessly tearing them down.

I decided to alter the pig's appearance some, not just to show off its
looks, but to reinforce the idea that I controlled everything in its life.
I also wanted to make sure the pig really grasped the fact that its only
purpose in life was to serve and please its betters, even if that meant
changing its appearance.

The first thing I did was take some clippers to its head.  When I'd brought
it home to live with me, one of the first acts of stripping away its old
life was to shave its head right down to the skin.  God, I hated seeing all
that pretty ginger hair fall to the floor, but sacrifices must be made.
Besides, when I was done and turned the cockpig towards the mirror, it
gasped, the reflection showing it the reality of its new life.  It cried a
little then, but I didn't mind that.

During its training, the hair had grown back, of course.  This time, I
buzzed its head to a nice short "high and tight", so the red really showed
and it was fun to feel, especially when I made the pig rub its head against
my balls.  I left a longer patch, though, right near the front – its
"fuck handle", I told it.  Perfect for grabbing and controlling its head
when you are fucking its mouth, or when its tongue is buried up your
ass. When the pig saw its new hairstyle in the mirror, it whimpered a bit
at the strange look.

"Yeah, pig, it looks a little ridiculous, but the fuck handle is
functional, and that's what matters.  Just another added feature for a
man's convenience," I explained.  I grabbed its new handle and pulled its
face into my crotch, giving it a quick demonstration of how easily it could
be controlled that way.

Being a ginger, the cockpig was mostly hairless anyway, but I removed what
little there was under its arms and on its legs.  Of course, it had been
keeping its asshole and crotch shaved since before we met, except for a
small decorative patch around its drain, mostly because I love the look of
red pubic hair.  If anything, that patch emphasized how smooth the rest of
it was, and it worked to really set its chastity cage into high relief.

When the day of the party arrived, I could tell the cockpig was nervous.
No, not nervous – terrified.  This was a big step for it, its "coming
out" party, so to speak.  Up to this point, the only person that had ever
seen it in its newer, more natural state besides me was its former roommate
and best friend, Cody, and then only for a few moments. This was the first
time it would be presented to others, to strangers, as an owned object,
something subhuman.  I could tell the idea alone was really fucking with
its brain.  It had dreamed about this kind of thing for years, and now
those wet dreams had come true.  This was its daily life, and it was about
to be displayed to total strangers as the thing it had willingly become.
No - that it had begged to become.  Mentally, the entire situation was
almost overwhelming for the cockpig.  But that's exactly what I was going
for.  Gotta get past that plateau.

I decided to outfit the faggot with a special little treat for my guests: a
pig-tail butt plug.  What better way to reinforce for the cockpig that it
wasn't a person, but a piece of livestock?  The hot-pink curly tail
sticking out from between the fag's tight little ass cheeks looked
amazing. I made it crawl in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom
so it could see itself completely exposed: plugged, shaven, with a pink
tail. The only parts of its flesh not fully exposed for everyone to see
were the parts covered by its collar and chastity cage.  I made sure to put
on the clear plastic cage, so my guests would be able to observe its little
drain straining against the plastic.

Its instructions were simple: it was only allowed to say two things: "Yes
Sir" and "Thank you, Sir," unless it was addressed directly.  After all, no
one really cared what it thought or had to say, and there was no reason for
"no" to be a part of its vocabulary, anyway.  It would welcome our guests
by opening the door on its knees, kissing their feet, and presenting itself
for inspection. I knew this last part would be the hardest for it –
letting total strangers see it as it lived: on its knees, drain locked,
collared, shaved.  A thing, to be inspected by any men whom I allowed to
use it.  Just before I left it kneeling in the foyer, I added one more
decoration to it, as a treat for our guests: I hung a small brass bell from
the tip of its chastity cage. I could see the confusion on the faggot's
face when I put it there, but I knew it would understand the implications
soon enough.

You should have seen the pig.  I made it wait by the door on its knees for
a good while before the first guests arrived, just sitting there
contemplating what was about to happen to it, and how it had no control
over any of it.  I don't know exactly what was going through its little
faggot mind, but soon after I placed it there, its drain was hard and
throbbing in the chastity cage. From time to time, some idea would enter
its head and it would start blushing all over, that pale skin turning a
deep red, throwing its freckles into high relief. After a while, its drain
was dripping right through the cage, creating a little puddle of precum on
the floor in front of it.  It wasn't a problem though – I'd trained the
little cunt to lick up any trace of its pig scum to keep my floors nice and
clean.  Every few minutes, while it waited, it would bend over and lick up
the liquid evidence of its need for abuse. Once its drain was as hard at it
could get in that tiny cage, filling the plastic prison and throbbing along
with the fag's heartbeat, the cage started to bounce, making the tiny bell
ring with each throb of its little nub.  The best part was the look on its
face after about the third little ring of the bell, when it finally figured
out what was causing it, when it realized the bell wasn't just a
decoration, it was an alarm – a faggot hard-on alarm, designed to make
sure everyone nearby knew the cockpig was aroused, as well as to draw
attention to its caged nub.

Zack was the first guest to arrive.  Ever seen the show "Archer"?  The main
character, Sterling Archer, the super arrogant, really smug asshole with
the great body?  That's Zack to a tee. He doesn't look anything like
Archer, though, except that he's got a great body from all that CrossFit he
does. He's 30, clean-shaven, with a great jawline. About 5'10, with blond
hair and broad shoulders, Zack fills out his clothes very well –
especially his jeans.  He's got a bulge in his pants that you can't miss,
no matter what he's wearing.  He's straight, but very cruel.  Most females
aren't hardcore enough to handle Zack, which is how we became friends.  I
let him work over one of my previous slaves, just to get it out of his
system, and we've been friends ever since.

Zack was carrying a long, thin box under his arm when he came in. He said
hello to me, momentarily ignoring the cockpig at his feet kissing his
Nikes, then handed me the box.

"Found this online and thought of you.  Figured it would make a nice party
gift.  Open it later, though," he said, an evil little smile turning up the
corners of his mouth.

Finally, he bent down, grabbed the fuck handle on the pig's head and pulled
it to its feet.  I was proud to see my training was paying off: the cockpig
immediately spread its legs, assuming an inspection position, its head
pulled back by Zack's grip on its hair, with its hands locked behind its
neck, leaving all parts of it on display and completely exposed for
anything Zack decided to do with it. He reached out and grabbed the pig's
tits, pinching its delicate little nips and lifting it up on its tiptoes,
rolling the very tips of the faggot's nipples between his fingers, until he
finally made the pig gasp and then squeal from the pain.  As he held it
there on its tiptoes, suspended by its tits pulled way out from its chest,
he glanced down and laughed, commenting on the fact that the cockpig's
drain was hard as a rock and throbbing in its cage, causing the bell to
ring urgently with the faggot's need.  That caused the pig to blush with
shame, knowing that this total stranger was not only casually inflicting
pain on it for his own amusement, but that we were both laughing at its
depravity, at the fact that such abuse, rather than causing its nub to
shrink from the pain, instead made it throb even harder.

Zack finally let go, and we went into the living room to relax, leaving the
pig to greet the other guests as they arrived.  I set the box Zack brought
down in the corner of the living room out of the way.

Scott arrived next.  He runs one of those sports bars, so it was a lucky
thing for me he had the night off.  No party is really complete without
him.  He's got a great sense of humor, as well as a viciously cruel streak
when it comes to faggots. Scott's a body builder, with a massive chest and
huge shoulders and arms.  He's in his early 30s, and let me tell you, this
dude is a beast! Unlike a lot of body builders, he's not just big, he's
strong as well.  I couldn't wait for him to get ahold of the cockpig and
put it through its paces.

I started laughing out loud at the faggot when it got a look at Scott.
He's massive all over.  The faggot was licking his dress shoes in greeting
when I walked into the foyer.  Scott lifted the pig's face with his foot,
letting it get a good look at what a mountain of a man he is.  I thought
the cockpig was going to piss itself in fear right then.  It began to
tremble and whimper, obviously aware that whatever this man decided to use
it for would hurt like hell, and it would be utterly helpless to stop it,
even if it had the balls to try.  Scott reached down and grabbed the pig's
fuck handle, pulled its head into the crotch of his dress slacks, and began
grinding his crotch into its face, letting the pussyboy get a face full of
the pipe growing down his leg.  I told you, Scott is massive all over,
including in his pants.  By the time Scott was done, there was an even
deeper look of fear in the cockpig's eyes as it realized that this huge
pole would soon be buried inside it, whether it wanted that to happen or
not.  As if it even deserved a choice in the matter...

While Scott and I were greeting each other, he casually pulled the pig's
head around to his ass and jammed its face between his muscular ass cheeks,
grinding the faggot's face into his asshole, letting it get a good whiff of
his musky sweat.  I'm not even sure the pig could breathe. Scott was
cramming its face into his ass hard, with the two mounds of his muscular
cheeks pinching its nose firmly in place.

As the cockpig was struggling desperately to breathe, even if to just get a
whiff of air flavored by Scott's ass sweat, Josh opened the door and walked
in.  Josh is an old friend.  I've known him since he was a teenager.  Rough
kid with a rough home life, he learned cruelty from his family at an early
age. When I met him, he'd just turned 18, but he was already a pretty mean
little shit, constantly getting in trouble with everyone: parents, school,
cops.  He liked to fight and fuck, and did a lot of both, apparently.  I
saw the way he treated some of the girls he slept with, and knew he was a
kindred spirit.  So, I introduced him to a faggot I was training at the
time. He was reluctant at first, afraid people would think he was gay.  You
know how self-conscious teen boys can be.  But he quickly took to using
faggot slaves like a duck takes to water.  Once he learned he could abuse
them any way he wanted and they'd not only obey but actively beg him for
more, Josh was hooked.  He still preferred women, but he started regularly
using and training faggots to be his slaves.  Before he did something
stupid and got sent to prison for a couple of years, Josh had one bitch
damn near completely trained.  The things he put that fuckhole through were
hilarious and downright evil.  But those are tales for a different day.

Josh isn't that big, especially standing next to a mountain like
Scott. He's only about 5'9, but he's well-built and pretty muscular, not
from hours in a gym but from lots of manual labor.  Josh has always worked
construction and remodeling jobs, so he's got the rough hands and ropey
muscles of a worker, someone who does hard labor all day long instead of
sitting in an air-conditioned office in front of a computer.  His time in
prison certainly didn't hurt his build, since he'd had nothing to do but
pump iron and abuse some of the other inmates. He keeps his brown hair cut
prison-short, in a single length buzz all over.  Unlike Scott, who has a
full beard and looks more like a business executive than a bar manager,
Josh is clean shaven and covered with tattoos, a few of them professionally
done, but many a result of his time inside, hand poked in some cell. Josh
is only 27, but he's packed some hard living into that time, which has only
made him even meaner, it seems.  I love having him around just to see how
cruel he can be.

Josh and Scott greeted me and high-fived each other.  They'd been to my
parties before.  Scott, ever the gentleman, passed the cockpig's fuck
handle to Josh, allowing him to take over using it. Josh looked like he'd
just come from a job site.  His jeans and work boots were dirty, and he had
an odor of sweat that hung on him; not nasty, per se, but you could tell
he'd been working.  Josh got a mean little grin on his face as soon as he
grabbed the faggot's hair, and immediately shoved the pig's face into his
ass, rubbing its nose against his faded blue jeans.  Suddenly, Josh let out
a long, loud fart, right into the pig's face. My little cockpig started to
struggle in an effort to pull away from the disgusting smell, but Josh just
pulled on its hair tighter, laughing at it being forced to inhale his
rancid gas.  That's just how an alpha male like Josh greets a subhuman
fuckpig.

Once Josh was done feeding the cockpig his farts, Scott grabbed its hair
and pulled it to its feet, then bent down and threw the faggot over one of
his shoulders, carrying the cumdump like a sack of potatoes.  Yeah, he
could have just made it crawl behind them into the living room, but Scott
liked showing off his strength, and I could tell it made the pig feel small
and completely helpless in a way even bondage wouldn't have accomplished.
This was a superior man demonstrating his raw power, using his muscles and
size to accentuate the vast difference between what he is and what the
cockpig is.  He carried the fuckhole like it weighed nothing, not even
breaking a sweat as he toted it into the living room and deposited it,
whimpering and trembling, on the floor where it belonged.

I nudged the cockpig with my foot in order to get it back on its knees
where it belonged.  "Gentlemen," I said to the guys, "allow me to show off
my newest piece of property, my new cockpig.  I suppose a quick rundown of
its uses is in order before the game begins."

This was an important part of the evening, as well as a crucial part of the
cockpig's training.  As deeply humiliating as it was for it to be seen by
others as a faggot slave, I wanted to push it even further, take its
degradation to a deeper level. What was more degrading than being seen and
used as a cockpig?  Why, having to admit it out loud in front of strangers,
of course!  Time to hear the faggot recite its catechism for our guests.

"Who am I," I asked.

"My Master," it promptly replied.

"What else?  Tell these men," I demanded, grabbing the faggot's chin and
pulling its face up so it could see the guys staring at it.

"My...my owner," it stammered, blushing.  Admitting it was owned property
was hard, but even harder with four sets of alpha male eyes boring into it,
judging it.

"Anything else, cunt?" I asked, my grip on its chin tight enough it
couldn't turn away.

The faggot was silent for a moment, its mouth hanging open slightly, a
pleading look in its eyes.  It hated this: having to explain itself to
others, to explain its life and its new role to normal people, to real men.
Finally, it summoned its courage and replied.

"You are my god, Sir."

"It's god?" Zack sneered at the faggot.  "Is it saying it worships him?"

The cockpig looked at me, pleading with its eyes, its bottom lip trembling
from the humiliation of being exposed like this.  I could tell this was
painful for it, that it wanted to just disappear into the floor instead of
having these men see it this way.  So, of course, I pushed it further.

I released my grip on the cockpig's chin long enough to give it a good,
hard slap across the face.  "A man asked it a question.  Answer, cum dump."

"Yes, sir, it worships its Master and Owner, sir."

"Tell them its name," I ordered.

"Sir, you haven't given it one.  You said objects don't have names," it
replied, breaking eye contact.  I saw it swallow, hard.  This was intensely
stressful for the bitch.

"Well, what's it good for, at least?" Josh demanded.

The pig hesitated, trying its best to look at the floor. But our scrutiny
wasn't going to be escaped so easily. I grabbed the hair on top of its head
and pulled its head up until it was staring straight at the Josh.

"Sir, it will do anything you need, Sir," the faggot replied.

"Oh yeah?" Josh asked.  "I think it should give us a list of what its good
for.  Maybe, like, a menu of its services."

"Yes, sir," the faggot responded, swallowing hard.  "Sir, you can fuck it
if you want."

"Hmmm.  What if I don't just need to fuck?" Josh followed up.  "Maybe I
need to piss, instead.  What will it do then I wonder?"

The faggot turned a deep read.  I walked around behind it, and repositioned
its head, so it was directly facing all three of our guests and held its
head there so it was impossible for it to look away.  I wanted it to admit
what it was, all of what it was good for, while they stared it down. And
stare it down they did, their eyes boring into it, like they were looking
into its very soul. I wanted it to see the disgust in their eyes, and truly
comprehend the deep contempt real men felt for a faggot like it.

"Sir...it...it would drink your piss if you wanted it to sir," the faggot
stammered, barely above a whisper.

"What was that? I couldn't hear the little bitch," Zack said

I jerked on its hair.  "Louder, fuckhole.  Tell these men what it needs."

The fag hesitated, turned a deep red all over, then finally blurted out,
just as I'd taught it, a mixture of begging and yelling, "SIR, PLEASE LET
IT DRINK YOUR PISS, SIR!  IT NEEDS YOUR PISS IN IT, SIR!"

"Just his piss, needy faggot?  What about me?" Scott asked.

"SIRS, PLEASE LET IT DRINK ALL OF YOUR PISS!"

I noticed a few tears rolling down the faggot's cheeks as we made it beg to
be a urinal for these total strangers.  Its first tears of the night, but
certainly they wouldn't be the last.

"What is it, some kind of urinal?" Zack asked, a disgusted look on his
face.

The fuckpig was silent, its mouth opening and closing without sound. I gave
it another painful tug on its hair. "Yes sir," the faggot finally admitted,
"it is a urinal for men like you."

"That's fucking disgusting, you know that, faggot?  Not only allowing men
to piss on you and inside you, but begging them to use you as a urinal.
Even guys it just met, like us.  Fucking sick faggot!" Zack said, shaking
his head is mock disgust.

"What limits does it have, from me or any man?" I asked the faggot from
behind.

It swallowed and blushed, another full body blush, as it felt another wave
of shame washing over it, forced to admit such a thing in front of these
strangers. "None, Master."

"So, I can use it any way I please?  My buddies can do anything they want,
no matter how twisted, how disgusting, how painful?  Is that what it's
telling us, cunt?" I demanded.

Another blush, deep red this time, the response almost a whisper, "Yes
Master, please Master."

"What if I just want to hurt it?  Maybe beat it some, really fuck it up and
inflict some pain?  What about that, bitch?" Zack inquired.

The pig started trembling, knowing that these men would not only hurt it,
but would take great pleasure in seeing it suffer.  As much as the little
faggot needed cock and craved having me use it, it didn't like pain.  Hated
it, in fact.  But, once again, I'd put it in a position where it had no
choice but to beg for something it didn't want.

"Please sirs," the faggot begged, tears freely flowing down its young face,
"please hurt this pig.  Please abuse it and make it suffer if you want to."

Zack didn't need to be asked twice.  Quick as a snake, he reached out and
slapped the shit out of the cockpig, who had no opportunity to avoid the
blow, since I was still holding its head in place by its fuck handle.  I
could tell Zack hit it hard enough to rattle the bitch's teeth.  Before it
could recover, Josh slapped it on the other cheek just as hard, knocking
its head back in the other direction and eliciting a loud grunt from the
faggot.  It was panting, trying to breathe through the sudden pain.
Obviously, the slaps were hard enough it couldn't do basic math, because it
obviously wasn't expecting the blow which came next from Scott.  The
bodybuilder used one huge paw to whack it across the face hard enough to
knock it to the ground despite my grip on its hair.  I thought for a moment
he'd knocked it out cold, but the faggot started crying and writhing in
pain, so I knew it was okay.

I snapped my fingers to get the cockpig's attention.  "Beers for everyone.
Now," I ordered. Slowly, it pulled itself together and stood up, then
walked into the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

"Nice looking piece of ass," Josh drawled, "but I don't see why you're
letting it walk upright like that."

I smiled.  I can always count on Josh to start some shit. "Well, you know
where the equipment is.  Feel free to correct its behavior," I challenged,
knowing he was more than willing to rise to the bait.  Josh hopped up and
headed for the back room I used for faggot training, with Zack right on his
heels, ready to get into the action. I could hardly wait to see what they
brought back with them.  By the time they both came back downstairs, the
faggot was back with the beers and dutifully licking Scott's black dress
shoes to a bright gleam. Zack was holding a thin, bamboo cane, a favorite
of mine due to the way it whistled through the air just before striking
flesh, as well as for the deep, thin, incredibly painful welts it left when
wielded correctly.  That thing hurt, and I could tell from the grin on
Zack's face he knew just exactly how painful it would be.

Josh, however, is always more creative in his tortures.  Rather than a whip
or a cane, he brought back something far more insidious: a humbler.  I
hadn't gotten around to using it on the cockpig yet, but it was certainly
about time.  Josh borrowed the keys to the faggot's chastity cage from me,
then unlocked and removed the device while Scott placed his other size 13
shoe on the back of the pig's head, forcing its face into the shoe it was
licking and effectively pinning it in place while Josh installed the
humbler.

The cockpig let out a loud groan into the top of Scott's shoe when Josh
slide that cage off its drain.  That was the first time it had been uncaged
in months, and the first time its little drain could finally unfold and
erect to its full size, such as it was.  The other guys all laughed to see
the faggot's little drain spring to attention. They started commenting on
how small it was.

"Well, it didn't use to be quite so small," I explained.  "I mean, it was
never man-sized or anything, but that chastity cage is doing a good job of
helping to shrink it.  I looks a lot smaller than then I started training
the faggot.  I'm pretty pleased with the results so far."

"What's your plan?" Josh asked.  "You gonna let the faggot keep that little
nub as-is, or do it like that last one you had?"

"I haven't decided, really," I replied thoughtfully.  "I'm sure I'll figure
it out soon.  Remodeling property is always a tough decision." That made
everyone laugh.

Josh reached between the cockpig's spread legs and grabbed its balls, then
secured them in the humbler.  A humbler isn't complicated – it's two
curved pieces of wood that clamp together like a vice to trap a slave's
balls.  The device has two adjustable bolts to allow you to control how
tightly it clamps shut.  The wood is curved to fit snugly against the back
of a slave's thighs, right below its ass.  It's called a humbler for a
reason, of course: once it's clamped in place, the faggot can't get up off
its knees, not unless it wants to jerk its balls clean off.  Once that
humbler is on it, the pig can't do anything but crawl, and every inch it
crawls tortures its balls, using the movement of its own thighs to jerk,
pull and crush those worthless little orbs. The humbler is a great training
tool, combining both pain reinforcement and humiliation into one simple
device.

I dug around in the table beside my chair and found a piece of string.  I
handed it to Josh.  "Here," I said, "tie that bell around its drain. I was
enjoying the music." That got another laugh.

Josh looped the string through the top of the tiny bell, then quickly tied
the string around the stumpy shaft of the faggot's nub, right below the
head, so that it dangled freely, sounding its chime each time the cockpig
moved or its drain throbbed.  Now that it was uncaged, the piggy's drain
was rigid, despite its pain and humiliation...or more likely because of it.

The cockpig hated the humbler from the moment Josh locked it in place.  I
could tell, because as soon as he had it on the pig, Zack ordered it to
show everyone how much it liked wearing it by crawling around like a good
little animal.  As soon as the faggot started moving, you could see the
pain written across its cute young face.  Every movement was torturing its
nuts, swollen with months of pent-up cum, the movements of its own thighs
providing the pain as it struggled to crawl around the room.  Its suffering
was compounded by Zack's liberal application of the cane to its ass cheeks,
urging it forward, making it crawl faster and faster.  At first, the faggot
was moving slowly and carefully, trying to minimize the pain it was
inflicting on itself with the humbler, but when Zack started bringing that
thin bamboo cane down on its ass, the stupid cunt quickly realized the only
way to avoid the fiery agony of Zack's strokes against its ass was to pick
up its speed, increasing its own torment of its trapped nuts to the
accompaniment of the little bell attached to its drain.

"C'mon pig... squeal for us," Zack demanded. "Wiggle that pig tail,
fuckhole!"  He brought the cane down again, hard, right across both the
faggot's ass cheeks, and it squealed at the top of its lungs, sounding just
like a real pig, lurching forward and almost falling flat on the floor,
until the humbler threatened to rip off its balls as its legs straightened.
Remarkably, the faggot learned its lesson quickly – while it might fall
forward from a particularly cruel blow from Zack, with its upper body flat
on the floor, it remained on its knees, that beautiful, smooth white ass in
the air, offered up perfectly for more abuse.  Zack drove the pig around
the living room like that, making it grunt and squeal like a real pig, its
little bell constantly ringing out a shameful tune, while we all laughed
and Josh recorded it on his phone to show his friends later.

After a few minutes of this, the pig was near collapse from racing around
the room on its hands and knees to avoid Zack's cane, so I directed it into
the kitchen to fetch us more beers. Of course, since it needed its hands to
crawl, that took it several trips, but we didn't mind.  All the guys were
enjoying looking at its sweet little ass wiggling the pig tail as it
crawled around.

"Fuck, dude, you really did a number on the bitch's ass with that cane!"
Scott remarked, impressed at Zack's handiwork and the cross-hatching of
deep welts all across the pig's ass cheeks.

"Thanks, man.  Been a while since I've had a faggot I could beat like
that," Zack replied.

"Well, it's all yours, guys," I said, waving my hand magnanimously toward
the fuckhole. "As long as there's no permanent damage, do what you will."

"Well, the first thing I'm gonna do is try out this bitch's holes.  Which
one should I start with?" Josh asked, unzipping his jeans.

"Hmm...I'd start with its front hole.  It's reasonably talented with that
one.  Still needs training with the back hole, but you won't be
disappointed.  It's still almost virgin-tight, no matter how many times I
core it out.  Even keeping it plugged doesn't seem to make it loose," I
replied.

Josh walked over to where the faggot was kneeling, trying to catch its
breath, and shoved his semi-hard cock in its face.  I was pleased to see
that, despite the pain it was in, the cockpig's mouth immediately opened
when presented with a man's cock, at this point an almost involuntary
response to the presence of a penis.  My training was clearly working,
reshaping its feeble little faggot brain exactly the way I wanted it,
turning it into a true slave for any cock presented to it.

Josh was quickly sawing his seven-inch cock into the faggot's throat,
holding on to its fuck handle to control the movement of its head,
occasionally burying his shaft all the way down its throat and trapping the
pig's nose in his pubes, letting it get a good whiff of his crotch,
probably still ripe from whatever construction job he'd been working
earlier.

It didn't take Josh long to feed the faggot its first load of the evening.
He twisted its fuck handle in his hand and shoved in to the hilt, shooting
his load right into the back of the pig's throat.  Once again, proving that
my training of it was working, the faggot sucked out every drop of Josh's
cum, then dutifully held his cock in its mouth, gently keeping it warm and
wet, not sucking or licking, just holding it there, until Josh withdrew and
stepped back.

"Thank you, sir!" it responded as soon as Josh's cock was out of its mouth.
Josh slapped it across the face lightly and backed up, as Zack was already
moving into place to try out the faggot's mouth for himself.

Zack is straight, so when we first met he was pretty uptight about using
faggots.  He loved using women, and had a couple of occasions where he went
overboard and almost wound up in jail for abuse.  Once I'd introduced him
to the idea of a willing faggot slave he could use as roughly as he chose,
he gradually began to thaw.  At first, he was just into beatings and
torture, giving his sadistic side a way of safe expression at a level most
female bitches couldn't or wouldn't take.  Every time I let him abuse one
of my slaves, though, I could see that prominent bulge in the front of his
pants get even bigger, threatening to rip the crotch right out of his jeans
by the time he was done with his abuse.  I'd finally convinced him to let
one of the faggots suck him off, and that's all it took.  He discovered he
could not only inflict pain with his hands and feet, but also with his
long, fat cock as well.

As soon as Josh moved, Zack grabbed the faggot's hair and roughly pulled
its head into his bulging crotch, while at the same time bringing the cane
down again, this time right in the crack of the pig's ass.  It squealed
loudly, right into Zack's denim-covered cock, the warmth of its breath and
the keening of its suffering making his dick throb and swell even more. He
dragged its face back and forth across the rough denim, making it drool all
over the front of his pants, before he finally instructed it to unzip his
jeans with its mouth.  You should have seen the bitch struggling to get
that zipper down, using only its tongue and lips.  I couldn't tell if it
was more desperate to get Zack's big dick in its mouth, or to avoid more
blows from the cane.  Either way, it soon managed to get his pants undone
and was smacked in the face by Zack's erection as soon as it popped out of
his jeans.  The faggot obediently swallowed the entire thing, showing my
guest exactly what it was good for, which pleased me.  Zack is very
arrogant, and he loves being worshiped, so he let the faggot impale its
throat on his cock for a bit. Zack's cock is uncut, around eight and a half
inches, and fat enough to completely fill his fist. He was obviously
enjoying watching how the girth of his cock challenged the faggot, which
was stretching its jaw as wide open as possible, desperate to avoid
scraping his shaft with its teeth.

Ever the sadist, Zack began to fuck the faggot's mouth, deliberately
bumping his crotch into the faggot with each thrust, forcing the pig
backwards, which caused the humbler to torture its trapped nuts with every
thrust of Zack's cock into its throat. Not content with that, Zack started
using the cane again, enjoying the vibrations on his cock as the cockpig
screamed from each blow. Zack showed the little pussyboy no mercy, ramming
his meat down its throat while beating it with the bamboo cane, two very
different rods torturing both ends of the faggot.  It was pretty cruel,
even by my standards.  When Zack finally shot his load down the pig's
throat and pulled out, the bitch collapsed to the floor face first,
thumping his head against the hardwood.  The face rape was so brutal, we
all started clapping spontaneously at Zack's performance.  The arrogant
bastard grinned at us with his 10,000-watt smile, then took several bows,
gloating both in his abuse of the cunt and our admiration, beaming with
pleasure, his thick cock on display, shiny with the faggot's spit and still
stiff as a board, ready to go again at any moment.

"You're up, Scott.  Give this pig a good workout before the game starts,"
Zack said.

"Nah, not yet. I've got some other uses for it first," Scott replied,
grinning.  He ordered the faggot over to him, then put it to work licking
the soles of his dress shoes clean, then licking his big feet and sucking
on his toes, while we discussed the game about to start.  Just as well,
since the faggot probably needed a short break from the abuse to regain its
strength.  The thing I love most about these young fuckholes is that they
recuperate quickly and have the stamina to take a lot of abuse. We were
going to test those limits today, that was for sure.

After Scott's feet were clean, he shoved the cockpig over to Josh.  I could
see it recoil from the nasty work boots Josh was wearing, which were
covered in dirt and grime.  I'm not sure how long he'd had those boots, but
they'd definitely seen better days.  The cumdump was licking them, gently,
trying to satisfy Josh without getting too much grime in its mouth, but
Josh wasn't going to allow any slacking.  He was savvy enough to spot a
slacking slave.

"Hey Zack, hand me that cane, will ya?" he asked.  Once Zack passed it
over, Josh used it to encourage the faggot's tongue, whacking it on the ass
and sides of its thighs, even its back, if it appeared to be doing less
than its utmost best to clean his boots.  The effect was immediate and
remarkable.  The cockpig started crying from the pain and humiliation, its
tears aiding its tongue to clean Josh's boots of all that dirt, and no
doubt also helping to wash some of that grime down its throat once its
tongue was coated with construction dust. With the humbler locked on its
nuts, the faggot couldn't even move its ass out of the way to avoid the
blows without inflicting further pain on its swollen balls.  Submit its ass
for a beating, or flinch away and damn near tear its own balls off?  A
fitting dilemma for a cockpig if there ever was one.

It made me smile to just to watch.

I think I was right about Josh working before he came over, because when he
finally allowed the faggot to remove his boots and socks, his feet smelled
to high heaven.  To its credit, the cockpig didn't try and slack off from
cleaning his stinking feet, but immediately began licking all the sweat off
his feet and from between his toes while we concentrated on the game. As
bad as Josh's feet reeked, it must have been a disgusting job, but after
all, that's what pigs are for.  Yet, as the pig buried its face in Josh's
stinking feet and licked the sweat from between his toes, the bell on the
end of its drain rang constantly as its little nub throbbed with need.

During the first commercial break, Scott got up and excused himself,
walking up to the back bedroom.  When he returned, he was carrying a large
dildo and the training box, which he slid onto the bolts I have mounted on
the wall.  I put them there when I first got the box, near the TV, so I
could watch a faggot training its holes with the box during commercial
breaks in whatever show I was enjoying.  Scott loves that box, and even
asked Ryan (my engineer buddy) to make one like it for him.  Once it was
attached to the wall, Scott mounted the dildo on the box and ordered the
faggot to get the big rubber cock in its mouth.  Once the faggot was
sucking on the dildo, Scott set the timer.  He must have set it for only a
second or two, because the pig immediately squealed when it received its
first jolt from not pressing its nose and lips to the box. While we all
laughed, the faggot got busy trying to deep throat the huge dildo Scott had
chosen.  The cockpig finally managed to take it all, but not before several
more painful shocks.  Finally, the pig managed to set up a rhythm, taking
it all then withdrawing, almost like a sword swallower, making the full
length of the dildo disappear on each downstroke.  Twin pools, one of
saliva, one of precum, collected on the floor beneath the cockpig, its
vigorous sucking driven as much by its need to avoid the shocks as its
innate need to obey alpha males and worship cock.

Scott returned to the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table,
watching the cockpig's efforts as if supervising an employee inclined to
slack off.

"Dude, why you got it sucking on that dildo instead of your dick?" Zack
asked.  "Trust me, the faggot knows how to worship a cock!" He laughed,
then high-fived Josh.

"Because I want to make sure it can swallow all of mine," Scott drawled,
watching the cockpig take the dildo to the base. "I hate a faggot that
can't take it all. The last bitch that tried and failed actually scraped a
red mark on the top of my cock with its teeth."

"Oooh, fuck, man!  What did you do?" Zack asked, cringing at the thought.

One corner of Scott's mouth turned up, a hint of a smile. "Let's just say
that faggot won't have to worry about its front teeth getting in the way of
cock sucking ever again."

"Good for you, Scott.  I'm sure that was a lesson well learned for that
bitch," I remarked.

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer not to have to repeat the lesson.  Especially not
on someone else's property.  But from the looks of it, I don't think that's
going to be an issue," Scott replied, taking careful note of the way the
cockpig was desperately swallowing the entire length of the dildo.

A visible sheen of sweat had appeared all over the cockpig, the result of
its constant effort to keep up with the timer on the devilish training
box. I loved the box – it was like an extension of me, demanding
grueling, precise performance and punishing even slight failure with
pain. I love the fact that, instead of having to do the work of training
the little cunt myself, it was simply automated for me, another way to make
life easier through technology.  Well...easier for me and other men, but
far more unpleasant for faggots.  Just as it should be, of course.

Finally, Scott rose from the couch and walked over to where the fag was
urgently and repeatedly impaling its throat on the big dildo.  He switched
the box off just as the faggot reached the bottom of the dildo, the entire
length buried inside it.  He held its head there for a moment, waiting to
see how long it took before the cockpig started to choke.  I'd taught the
little cocksucker well, though, and it managed almost a full minute with
the big rubber cock deep in its throat before it began to gag.  Even then,
as it struggled for air and its guts started to heave, the cockpig knew
better than to try and pull off the dildo, even if it had been able to
overcome Scott holding its head in place.  Finally, he let go, allowing the
cockpig to slide about half the dildo out of its throat.  It kept the rest
of the dildo in its mouth, gasping around it, trying to catch its breath.

Scott grabbed the hair on the front of the fag's head, using it to pull the
bitch completely off the dildo, then dragged its face into the crotch of
his khaki slacks.  The cockpig immediately began using its already-bruised
lips to massage his cock through the fabric, moving further down Scott's
leg as his bulge continued to grow.  After letting the cockpig slobber on
his slacks for a few minutes, Scott unzipped and hauled out his cock, then
used it to slap the pussyboy across the face with an audible smack.

Some people will tell you bodybuilders tend to have small dicks, either
because all the muscle development is a way to compensate for being
underendowed, or as a result of too much steroid use. Either of these may
be true in some cases, but not with Scott.  His cock is as impressive as
the rest of his muscles. It's a big, uncut club; thick, with a foreskin
that completely covers the head, even when he's hard. I've had the pleasure
of watching Scott using fuckholes before, and it's always an impressive
sight.  To see a man that big, simply stacked with muscle, pull something
that formidable out of his pants and then effortlessly control the faggot
he's using is not just hot as hell, its awe-inspiring.

The size difference between Scott and the cockpig was stark: the huge,
muscular alpha male with the pale, small-framed, hairless faggot kneeling
at his feet, worshiping the half-hard shaft hanging out of the man's pants.
I caught a glimpse of the faggot's eyes, just for a second, and I could see
both wonder at the size of the cock in its mouth, and fear – fear of how
much bigger the growing pole would get; fear of what this man would do with
it once it was fully erect.

Now that Josh and Zack had stretched out the cockpig's throat and it had
spent some time fucking its face on the oversized dildo, Scott apparently
decided it was ready to worship his cock properly.  He was fully hard now,
a nine-inch pillar of flesh he was rubbing all over the faggot's upturned
face, occasionally beating the little cunt in the face with it, each blow
leaving a shiny wet red mark.

The cockpig's knelt there with its mouth hanging open like some idiot,
drool trickling down its chin as Scott beat its face with his cock, each
blow reinforcing the differences between them: a real man with man-sized
cock, and a worthless cockpig with a tiny little drain, on its knees,
craving whatever abuse the man cared to give it.  Scott finally pulled back
his foreskin and laid the head of his cock on the pig's tongue, then pulled
his foreskin over its tongue, enveloping it, forcing the bitch to clean
underneath it, to massage his cock head with its tongue even as the faggot
was swabbing it clean.

The cockpig had never looked as good as it did in that moment, kneeling
there, sucking on a huge cock.  I noticed the pig tail was moving almost in
time with its tongue, the result of the faggot unconsciously clinching and
relaxing its sphincter, trying to get whatever tiny bit of pleasure it
could from the plug up its ass.  This was the cockpig in its true natural
element for the first time in its pitiful young life: naked, plugged,
collared, totally exposed in front of a group of men that knew what it was
and what it was good for.  This was its purpose, its entire reason for
existence.  We knew it, and the cockpig was finally beginning to grasp the
reality of what it was.

Scott pulled his cock out of the faggot's mouth. He took a step back, a
long strand of its saliva still connecting its tongue to his cock. The pig
was mesmerized, totally focused on the massive cock in front of it, as if
that rope of spit was connected to its very soul, tying it completely to
the alpha in front of it as surely as if it was any other beast of burden
harnessed to its task. Scott backed up another step, the string of pig spit
still not breaking the connection between them, making the faggot crawl
forward, desperate for another taste of Scott's cock, desperate to display
its need for dick.

When the fag crawled forward, Scott grabbed its fuck handle and twisted the
hair in his hand, pulling its head forward onto his cock, burying his
considerable length down the faggot's throat, holding its head in place as
it quickly learned to accommodate the invader.  Just as he'd done with the
dildo moments before, Scott held the cunt's head all the way down on his
cock, spearing its throat, just to see how long it would take before it
started to gag.  The cockpig was struggling to breathe around the mass of
flesh, trying to get air into its lungs, its entire throat firmly plugged
with Scott's big dick. We all watched as its face turned redder and redder,
as it began to squirm and struggle futilely against the big man's grip,
desperate not to choke to death on the cock buried inside it.  Really,
though, what more fitting end could there be for a cockpig, choking to
death on a big alpha cock, knowing that its last, pathetic struggles and
death spasms were simply adding enjoyment for a real man as he plugged its
throat one last time? A fitting end, indeed.

But not tonight.  Maybe someday, when the faggot was no longer of any other
use, but definitely not tonight.  The cockpig had many, many years of hard,
brutal use ahead of it, with tonight merely being its coming out party,
like a naked, collared debutante being introduced to a world of men who
will find endless new ways to abuse and degrade it.

The cockpig was sputtering and spasming, genuinely choking on Scott's cock
when he finally released his grip on its head and allowed it to slide back
and gulp down some air.  Once he was certain the little faggot wasn't about
to pass out, he plunged his cock back down its throat and began slowly
pistoning the entire length of his shaft down the faggot's throat, pulling
out on each stroke until only the tip of his cock head was in its mouth,
then ramming the entire thing inside it until the fuckpig's nose was buried
in his pubic hair, its lips stretched thin about the base of his cock, his
big balls banging forward on each downstroke to smack it in the chin. With
each of Scott's thrusts, we could see the faggot's throat bulge as it was
stretched by Scott's massive shaft, then contract as he slowly withdrew.

The sight of the cockpig's throat stretching each time Scott rammed his
dick inside it was enough for me.  I got up and moved behind the faggot and
grabbed the pig tail sticking out of its asshole.  I ripped out the
attached butt plug, forcing a muffled squeal from the pig's plugged throat,
which must have been a nice vibration on Scott's cock, as he let out a
pleased groan.  I pulled out my own cock and took aim at the fag's ass, the
shoved in until my balls were slapping against the faggot's ass
cheeks. With Josh and Zack calling out encouragement to us, Scott and I
pounded both ends of the faggot, setting up a rhythm with each other.  Most
of the time we were opposite, so that I was shoving my cock up its ass as
he was withdrawing from its throat, ensuring that the pig was continuously
impaled in one end or the other.  Several times I deliberately paused so
that we both rammed our cocks home at the same time.  From the way the
faggot tensed and groaned, it must have felt like our dicks were going to
touch deep inside it.  It was filled with cock, just as it was born to be,
and it totally surrendered to the penetration, concentrating only on
providing maximum pleasure with both its holes, just as I'd taught it.

It didn't take long before I filled the faggot's ass with its first load of
cum for the day.  Shortly thereafter, Scott buried his cock down its throat
and shot his load right into the pig's belly.  As I pulled out of its ass,
Scott withdrew about half of his cock from its mouth, then let out a long
sigh as he started filling its mouth with his piss. He looked at me and
grinned.  "I figured it was thirsty after all that hard work," he laughed.

After Scott finished using my urinal, I walked around and had it clean my
cock of any traces of its ass, then sat back down.  Zack and Josh were
apparently inspired by the show we put on, because they took our places,
with Josh using the faggot's front hole, and Zack behind it, using his fat
cock to stretch its rear hole.

Zack is such a fucking sadist.  The double rape of the faggot's holes
wasn't enough for him.  He positioned himself so that with each thrust into
the pussyboy's ass, he was also banging into its vulnerable balls trapped
by the humbler.  The first time he did it, the pig screamed into Josh's
cock.

"Whoo hoo!  Fuck yeah, man, that felt awesome!  Do that shit again, Zack,"
Josh exclaimed.

Zack was more than happy to oblige.  Each of his thrusts pounded the pig's
guts on the inside, and its trapped balls on the outside.  The pain was
only half the problem the pig had, though.  It also had to resist any
inclination to close its teeth on Josh's cock as a result of the pain.
Hospitality and respect for me aside, if the cockpig had bitten or scraped
Josh's cock, I doubt even I could have saved its teeth.  Josh would have
surely knocked them out in a heartbeat.  Not that it would have been a huge
loss, of course.  At that point, I'd already considered having some of its
front teeth removed to better accommodate big cocks, though I'd rather they
be removed by a dentist instead of an ex-con's fist.

My fuckhole was learning.  The months of training I'd put it through up to
this point were being tested, and I was pleased to see my hard work was
paying off.  The pig endured Zack's repeated bashing of its nuts just as it
endured the double violation front and rear, eventually milking a load from
each of them men with its respective orifices.  Zack finished first, but
remained buried in the faggot's asshole while Josh finished fucking its
throat.  I glanced at Zack, and saw he had his eyes closed with a look of
concentration on his face which could only mean one thing: he was pissing
up the faggot's ass.

As soon as he was done, Zack reached down and grabbed the plug off the
floor, then slowly withdrew his cock from the faggot's ass, replacing it
quickly with the butt plug.  Josh was shooting his load just as Zack was
sliding the plug into the faggot's cunt. Once Josh sat back down on the
couch, Zack made the little ginger cunt clean his cock off, then plopped
back down on the couch next to Josh and ordered the pig to lick his feet
clean.  I could see the fag was exhausted from the use so far, and chuckled
to myself.  It still had a long night ahead of it.

It was a good game.  Obviously, we didn't spend the entire night abusing
the cockpig.  The guys came over to spend time together and watch the game,
which was the focal point of the evening, of course.  The faggot...well, it
was just a passing amusement, a convenient hole to unload some cum into, a
portable urinal, and a good object for relieving a bit of stress.  It spent
most of the game licking my guest's feet, or kneeling in front of them so
they could rest their feet on its back until we needed more beers.  All the
guys enjoyed watching it crawl with the humbler on, its abused balls now
swollen and angry-red, its pigtail wiggling back and forth as it crawled
around to the sound of the little bell hanging from its drain.

We all know what happens when you drink beer, and the guys drank a lot of
it.  The cockpig drank a lot of piss that night from everyone except Zack.
Zack loves beer, and he was putting some away, let me tell you.  But he
never made the faggot drink his piss like the other guys.  Instead, each
time he had to relieve himself, he'd feed the faggot his cock just long
enough to get hard, then make it place its head on the ground with its ass
up high.  He'd carefully pull the plug from its asshole and shove the head
of his cock in, adding a new bladderful of his piss to the load the faggot
was already carrying in its guts.  Eventually, there was enough you could
actually hear Zack's piss sloshing around inside the cockpig's guts every
time it moved.  After a while, its belly began to look swollen, though
whether that was from the amount of piss the other guys made it drink or
what Zack put in its ass, I couldn't tell.  Either way, I could see it
becoming more and more uncomfortable as the cramps from Zack's repeated
urine enemas racked its young body.  The faggot was also contending with
another problem as it knelt there with three sets of feet resting on its
back: all that piss it had been fed was rapidly being processed through its
body. Its bladder must have been about to burst from all that recycled
beer.  Between the cramps in its guts and the overwhelming need to piss,
the faggot was beginning to squirm and gasp from the increasingly intense
discomfort, not to mention wiggle around under the guy's feet.

Zack picked up the cane and brought it down hard against the side of the
faggot's thigh.  "Shut the fuck up with your stupid whimpering, bitch," he
causally ordered it, his eyes on the game.

I suppose the sudden pain broke the ginger cunt's concentration.  Holding
all that piss inside it must have required a lot of effort.  As soon as
Zack hit it, the fag gasped from the pain and a shot of piss came out of
its drain all over the floor.

"Fuck, dude, you made a mess!" Josh said to Zack.

"Aw, man, sorry about that," Zack said looking at me sheepishly, as if he'd
committed some party foul and spilled his beer.

"No, no, relax, Zack.  Totally not your fault," I reassured him. "It's this
stupid faggot's fault for not being able to control itself better.  If
anything, I owe you guys an apology for its poor conduct.  Apparently, its
not even suitable to be a toilet.  Obviously, it's going to need further
training. But since we are coming up on halftime, I think that we should
probably drain the bitch to avoid any more spillage.  Zack, can you do me a
favor and make sure that mess gets cleaned up, and teach it a lesson about
keeping my floors clean?"

Zack's face lit up with that big grin of his, the one that made girls melt.
"Hell yeah, man, happy to help," he beamed. "Faggot, clean that piss up."

As the bitch was licking its own piss off the floor under the supervision
of Zack and the others, I excused myself and went down to the basement to
the cockpig's cage.  I often stored it in the cage when I needed it out of
the way, or when it needed a good reminder that it was just subhuman
property.  Can't have it getting to comfortable or mistakenly thinking it
was a person, or anything like that.  Since this cage was used for more
long-term storage (sometimes for a few days at a time), I'd supplied it
with a large water bowl, the kind they use for big dogs.  The bowl has a
wide, flat base and a rubber bottom, so it's hard for dogs to overturn.
Because it was a nice deep bowl, it was also suitable for caged cockpigs.
I thought I was very generous to keep it supplied with plenty of liquid
while it was caged.  Sometimes, when I'm feeling especially nice, I even
put actual water in the bowl.

I took the dog bowl upstairs in time to see Zack wielding the cane like a
surgeon with a scalpel.  The cockpig's entire ass was covered in welts, as
well as the tops of its thighs.  Tears were streaming down its face, both
from the pain Zack was inflicting on it and the intense effort it was
exerting to keep from pissing on the floor any further.

Zack stopped beating the bitch long enough to catch his breath, so I took
the opportunity to slide its water bowl under the fag's drain.  I snapped
my fingers once to focus its attention.

"Drain," was all I said.  The cockpig immediately began to piss into its
water bowl while the guys laughed and commented on the fact that it least
it could obey a few commands properly.  It pissed for a long time, crying
the entire time, though whether from pain, relief, or the humiliation of
the men watching, I don't know.  Doesn't matter really.  Faggot tears are
nothing but another form of lube.  If the bitch is crying, you must be
using it right.

"Zack, I think it's about done draining.  Do you think you could help keep
things neat by shaking its drain to get those last drops off?" I asked.

Zack grinned.  "No problem, dude," he smirked, then adjusted his angle on
the faggot's ass.  Targeting the center of the humbler, he brought the
bamboo cane down right on the fuckhole's nuts.  It was hilarious! I swear
that bitch levitated at least a foot off the ground, and let out a howl
like you wouldn't believe, only to be drowned out by our laughter. It
almost collapsed to the floor, but the humbler prevented it from doing so,
with the cockpig managing to catch itself and keep its knees under it and
its ass in the air just in the nick of time to keep the humbler from
ripping its swollen balls off.

I looked at Zack, proud of the skill he'd displayed, and pointed at the pig
tail.  "Zack, you want to uncork the urinal and finish draining it?"

He didn't need to be asked twice.  Zack loves being the center of
attention, and I could tell he was enjoying showing off for the other guys.
He used his foot to move the fag's water bowl until it was positioned near
its ass, then grabbed the plug and pulled it out with one swift motion,
causing a popping sound as he uncorked the pig.

I snapped my fingers again.  "Squat and drain," I ordered.  The bitch
struggled to position itself above the bowl, straining not to leak any of
Zack's piss on to the floor, then finally released its guts into the bowl,
letting out a loud groan of relief as it filled the bowl, which provoked us
to another round of laughter.  By the time it was done, I had to admit, I
was shocked at how much piss we'd poured into both ends of the cunt.
That's a big water bowl, and it was filled almost to the top with recycled
beer; some of it was double-piss, urine the faggot drank then filtered
through its body and pissed again.  The contents of the bowl were dark
yellow, and I could see plenty of cum from the bitch's ass floating in it
as well.

"Well, cunt?" I asked.  "I know it isn't planning on leaving that in the
middle of my floor.  And it's definitely not going to waste the precious
piss these men were nice enough to give it."  I mean, really, I shouldn't
have had to say even that.  But the cockpig was still young and not fully
trained at that point, so I was giving it some slack and being nice by
directing it.  With time, of course, it learned.

The little fuckhole was still crying when it lowered its head into dog bowl
and starting slurping up all that filthy, disgusting piss and cum.  I sure
hope it savored the combined flavor of alpha male piss, cum, and its own
ass, not to mention whatever flavor its own waste imparted. Of course, it
didn't drink fast enough for Zack or Josh.  Young guys can be so damn
sadistic.  I laughed as they made the cunt drink faster, not just lapping
up the piss with its tongue like an animal, but actively slurping big
mouthfuls of urine from the bowl. Zack wielded the cane against the bitch's
ass, concentrating his blows on its ass crack and hole, now that the
absence of the plug left them fully exposed.  Josh was less creative; he
just used his foot to occasionally kick the pig's trapped nuts.  But I
mean, who could blame him, really?  The humbler made them such a perfect
target, and after all, that's what they are put there for – to amuse
men.

After the faggot emptied the bowl full of piss and cleaned up any remaining
mess on the floor, Scott decided he wanted to try out its ass. The faggot
was panting; the combination of pain and exhaustion were beginning to show
on its face, but I had no intention of letting it rest, and neither did the
guys.  Scott used the pig's mouth to lube up his huge cock, then
unceremoniously shoved into its ass.  The faggot's face was priceless.  I'm
sure it felt like Scott was going to split it in two, and it even started
to struggle a little, trying to escape the huge invader working its way up
its ass. There was no chance of that, though.  Scott clamped his big hands
down on the fag's hips and simply held it in place as easily as he holds
dumbbells in the gym.  This bitch wasn't going anywhere until he was done
using it, that was for sure.  As he fucked it, Scott alternated his hands,
using one to hold the cunt in place and the other to slap the pig's ass
cheeks, already blistered and sore from Zack's cane.  I can only image how
that must have felt, having an arm that muscular and powerful coming down
on top of those welts. Each time he hit the pig, it let out a strange,
full-throated grunt, a sound I'd never heard it make before, accompanied by
the tinkling of the bell tied around its nub.  I'm quite sure it was a
sound the faggot never thought it could make, until it had a big-dicked
bodybuilder raping its asshole and beating it at the same time.  We all
found its grunting hilarious!  Josh even pulled out his phone and recorded
Scott fucking it, just so he could have the sound the pig was making.

"That grunt's gonna be my new text notification sound," he grinned. He and
Zack high-fived.

Scott was brutal.  He rammed the cockpig mercilessly, giving it every inch
of his huge cock, using the full power of his arms to beat its ass.  I
could see its cheeks beginning to bruise from his blows.  After a long
while, Scott finally pulled the fuckhole all the way back on to his dick
and shot his load deep inside it, giving a satisfied grunt as he did so.

"Good timing Scott," I remarked.  "The game is back on."

Scott pulled out of the fag's ass and presented his cock for cleaning, then
returned to his chair.  I figured this was a good time to give the pig a
little respite, so I reattached the dildo to the training box and installed
the pig with the dildo down its throat.  In order to let it rest at least a
little bit, I set the timer to a generous 45 seconds, so that it could
practice long, slow sucking strokes.

I know some people at this point probably think I should have shown mercy;
removed the humbler, perhaps let the faggot have a nice long rest in its
cage for a while.  I mean, after all, it had experienced a lot of abuse
already for one day.  Surely, at this point I should let it rest and
recuperate?  No.  That may be the natural inclination, but trust me, that's
not what faggots, and especially cockpigs, need.  What it needed wasn't
rest – it needed more use, more training, more abuse at the hands of me
and my buds, all focused on making it better at its one purpose in life:
serving real men.  To give it mercy at this point would simply undo months
of training, not to mention create a false impression in its feeble brain
that it deserved mercy from men, and that men were likely to give it mercy,
to coddle it.  No.  It had to learn. And there is only one way faggots
learn, and that's the hard way.

So, I let it "rest" on the training box, slowly deep throating the dildo
while we watched the rest of the game, except for whenever one of us needed
to piss, or needed more beer.  Eventually, of course, the game was over,
and we turned our attention back to the cockpig.  I had something special
in store as a surprise for the guys.  A little "motivator" to ensure the
faggot moved past the training plateau where it was stuck.

One thing I learned very early on with this particular cockpig: it was
deeply shy.  Shy about being seen naked, shy about being exposed as a
faggot, shy about anyone knowing the depths of its twisted desires,
especially its need to serve and obey at any price.  So, of course, I made
it my mission to exploit that weakness every chance I got. I'd have been
hard pressed to guess which was more painful for the faggot – being seen
and recognized by these men as the depraved little fuckhole it was, or the
cane Zack wielded so cruelly.  The thing that made it even worse, of
course, was the fact that its tiny, useless drain was hard as a rock
throughout; not in spite of the pain and humiliation, but as a direct
result of it, causing the hateful little bell tied to it to tinkle
repeatedly, drawing attention over and over again to its shame.

So, my special little show for tonight was going to degrade the pig even
further, not to mention fuck with its head in ways it couldn't begin to
imagine.  Now that the game was done, I ordered the fag off the dildo and
instructed it to clear off the coffee table while I retrieved a surprise
from upstairs.

When I came back down, all eyes were on me expect the pig's.  It knew
better, of course. I produced my surprise for my guests: a small carved
box.  I opened it to reveal two dice, large ones.  They were antiques, made
of ivory and hand carved. I'd picked them up years ago on a trip to India,
and kept them for special occasions.  I walked over and stood behind the
faggot where it knelt on the floor.

"Gentlemen, this is a special night for the cockpig.  You asked earlier,
Josh, if I planned to let it keep its little drain or not.  Like I said, I
haven't decided yet.  One thing is for certain, though: it won't be allowed
to cum like it has in the past.  The chastity cage has done a good job of
getting it used to living with full balls, but I think at some point I'll
want a more...permanent...solution of some sort.  What that is remains to
be seen, of course.  But I'm mindful of the old saying, `You don't know
what you've got until it's gone,' so I though you guys might enjoy being a
part of a very special moment in the cockpig's life." I lifted my foot and
extended it between the bitch's legs, pulling its rigid little nub
backwards, the releasing it to slap forward, ringing the bell and provoking
laughter from the guys, and a deep shameful blush from the pig.

I set the box with the dice down on the coffee table, and snapped my
fingers in front of the cunt.

"How long since it was last allowed to cum?" I asked. This was an important
part of its training, keeping count of the days since it was allowed an
orgasm.  It really fucked with the faggot's head, since it reinforced its
total lack of control over its own body, its complete subjugation to my
will.  I'd warned it early on: if I ever asked how long it had been and it
couldn't immediately give me a precise answer, it would never cum again.
If emptying its balls wasn't important to the faggot, why should such a
thing matter to anyone else?

"One hundred sixty-three days, Sir," it replied immediately.  Did I see a
small glint of hope in its eyes?  Hope that, perhaps, just maybe, it might
finally be allowed to shoot its load, to experience some tiny bit of
pleasure for a change?

"Faggots, slaves, cockpigs...they don't need sexual pleasure.  They don't
deserve it.  Those are things for men to enjoy.  I could just lock that
cage on its drain and leave it there forever.  But I'm nicer than that,
cockpig.  I'm going to give it a reward, since it has come so far in its
training in such a short period of time.  I'm going to allow it to cum, not
just now, but in the future, of course.  Now, obviously, that can't be
unrestricted or even unsupervised.  That would be inappropriate.  And I
think faggots function best with clearly defined boundaries and rules.  So,
here's the deal, pissbreath: I'm going to let it roll these dice.  Whatever
number it gets, that's the number of orgasms it has left for the rest of
its life.  Once they are gone, they're gone.  Forever.  Understand,
cumdump?"

The fear in its eyes was profound.  It opened its mouth to speak, stunned
at the cruelty of my order, but all that came out was a barely audible
whisper.  It was shaking as the full impact of my decree began working its
way through the faggot's little brain.

"Speak up, bitch.  Does it understand what I'm saying and what it's rolling
for?"

"Ye...Yes, Master," it finally stammered, tears beginning to roll down its
cheeks, a sign it was fully grasping the import of what was about to
happen.  Good.

"Pick up the dice, then, fuckhole. Pray for sixes," I smirked.  The other
guys laughed at that.

The pig took the dice out of the box carefully, rolling them around in its
hand, its eyes closed as if it couldn't stand to see the results of its
throw.  Summoning its courage, the bitch rolled the dice across the coffee
table, then slowly opened its eyes as they came to rest.

A one and a two.  The guys let out a collective "Ooooh" when they saw the
results.

Three.  Three orgasms were all the faggot had left for the rest of its
life.  It knew my will didn't bend, and it had learned not to expect any
mercy from me.  I looked it in the eye to let it know that yes, this was
absolutely for real, and that, somehow, after it came a third time, I'd
ensure it never did again.

Its tears flowed harder.  The pending loss, the crushing weight of such a
fate hanging over its head like the sword of Damocles, having no control
over when, where, or how its last three orgasms occurred, was like a knife
in its gut.  And at the same time, as its tears were rolling down its
cheeks, the bell attached to its drain was ringing nonstop from its
throbbing little erection.

I turned to my guests.  "So, guys, that's my special entertainment for you
this evening: the cockpigs first orgasm in six months, as well as one of
its last.  And I leave it to you gentlemen to decide how that will happen.
What would amuse you the most?"

Zack spoke up first, grinning, "Oh man, I've got just the thing.  Time for
you to open your little `slave-warming' gift."  He retrieved the box he'd
brought from the corner where I'd placed it, and handed to me.  I had no
idea what might be in the box, but, knowing Zack, it was going to be
something delightfully evil.

I popped open the end of the box and immediately recognized what was
inside, something I'd never bought but which fascinated me.  Rather than
removing it myself, I placed the box on the coffee table in front of the
cockpig, which was just managing to get its tears under control.

"Open that and pull out the nice gift Zack brought it," I ordered.

The faggot finished opening the box with trembling hands, scared of
whatever "gift" it might contain.  It stared dumbly at the contents once
the box was open, as if its mind couldn't comprehend what it was
seeing. Scott and Josh started to hoot and gasp at what was displayed
before them.

"I found it on one of those specialty sites," Zack explained. "They make
all kind of bizarre shit, but they specialize in wild and exotic dildos.  I
know how much you enjoyed that dog dildo you told me about, so I knew you'd
love this.  Supposedly, they cast a real horse cock in plastic or
something, then made dildos from that mold.  So, this is totally authentic
- size, shape, everything. Gonna be just like the faggot is getting fucked
by a real horse, minus the smell of horseshit, of course."

The device on the coffee table was a silicone nightmare, enough to take
away the breath of anyone who looked at it.  It was 24 inches long,
according to the box insert, with a 15-inch shaft, and a bulbous head that
was 8 inches in circumference.  It was at least as long as the faggot's
arm, and the shape, while definitely phallic, was strange enough to
immediately register as non-human, a real stallion's cock. It was enough to
inspire awe in all of us except the cockpig, where it merely inspired
terror.  Its pale skin grew even whiter as it gazed at the mottled black
and tan monstrosity laying in front of it, knowing that it was impossible
that such a thing would fit inside it; while, at the same time, fully
cognizant of the fact that the impossible was going to happen somehow. It
would soon not just be impaled on this silicone horse's cock, but worse, it
would be impaled in front of an audience.

I leaned over and picked up the giant dildo, amazed by the weight of the
thing.  The shaft near the base was too thick for my hand to completely
close around it, and the molded balls at the base were heavy, adding
stability to the long shaft.  It had a large suction cup attached to the
bottom, which I used to affix it to the middle of the coffee table where it
stuck up like an angry arm.

"Well, cunt?  Don't just sit there in awe.  Get that ass on the coffee
table and start getting acquainted with its new gift.  I'd start getting it
wet unless it wants to take that monster dry," I told the faggot.

It started struggling to climb onto the coffee table, but the humbler
prevented it from maneuvering properly.  I reached over and unscrewed the
bolts and removed it, allowing its nuts to finally swing free, eliciting a
gasp of relief from the cockpig.  Its relief was short-lived though, as I
swatted it on its blistered ass in order to get it moving.  Slowly, the
cockpig climbed up on the coffee table, fully aware it was now truly on
stage, displayed as the center of attention to all in the room as it began
licking up and down the giant horse's cock.  I find there is no better way
to throw fear into a cunt than making it lick a huge dildo or butt plug.
Sure, it can see how big the thing is, even feel its size and weight, but
nothing brings home the real size of the thing about to get shoved up its
tight little ass quite like having to lick and suck it, knowing that
anything it can't comfortably fit in its mouth is going to be an even
greater agony sliding inside its asshole.

The bitch was desperately licking the huge molded head of the dildo, hoping
to at least ease the passage of it into its brutalized ass, already
stretched from its earlier use.  No doubt both Scott and Zack had
thoroughly stretched its hole with their cocks earlier, as well as beaten
its guts up pretty good.  As much as I love to fuck a faggot's hole after
its nice and sore inside, there was nothing quite like the fun of
aggravating those deep internal bruises with a huge plug or dildo.  The
torment for a cockpig is almost unearthly, a deep ache that lasts long
after whatever device you use is removed.  This beast cock in front of us
would multiply that effect by at least a factor of ten.

There was no way, of course, the cockpig would be able to take something
that size with just spit to lubricate it, but I let it think that was its
fate for a while, just because it was hilarious to watch it frantically
slobbering all over that giant pole, desperate to lube it enough to ease
the dildo's passage into its ass.  Of course, the guys were having a great
time watching and catcalling the pig as it crawled around in the table,
trying to lick every inch of the dildo.

"Over here, pussyboy, it missed a spot," Josh ordered, pointing to a place
on the opposite side of the dildo, forcing the pig to crawl and twist its
already sore body in order to lick the spot he was pointing to.

Zack, on the other hand, chose to stand behind the bitch with the cane,
urging it to lick faster with well-placed swats against its ass,
aggravating the welts he'd already raised and creating new ones at the same
time.  Each time he struck, the faggot's tongue went into overdrive until
it had to stop and work up some more spit, at which time Zack would bring
the cane down again with sharp crack.

"I can't wait to see it take the head of that thing.  That's going to hurt
like hell," Scott remarked.  A horse's cock is shaped differently from a
human penis.  The dildo had a large head sticking out of a sheath, just
like a real horse.  But this sheath wasn't made of soft, movable
horseflesh, but instead of semi-firm silicone, meaning that the sheath
formed a ring around the base of the head, a thick ring that would be a
nightmare for the faggot to get into its ass, and a true horror once it was
in there.

I went upstairs and grabbed a container of lube I reserve for heavy ass
play, and brought it down to the living room.  I placed it on the coffee
table next to the pig, which showed relief on its face for just a moment,
thankful I wasn't going to make it take this pole with just spit.  Then,
however, it dawned on the dumb bitch what that container of lube meant:
this was not only really happening, it was going to start in just a few
seconds, as soon as it got the dildo slicked up and ready.

On my command, the faggot began smearing the lube all over the dildo,
looking just like it was jacking off a horse as its small hands tried to
encircle the shaft.  That's when the tears started again, its bottom lip
quivering as the image in its mind of what was about to happen began to
solidify, the feel of the thick shaft in its hands causing panic to set in
as it visualized what it was stroking buried inside its fundament,
spreading it and impaling it.  I made the fag crawl around on the table as
it slicked up the dildo, so that everyone had a good view of both its face
and its ass at different times.  When its ass was pointed at me, I reach
out and spread its ass cheeks, making sure to roughly massage the welts
Zack's cane had left, causing the faggot to gasp and sob.  Sure enough,
just as I'd suspected, its asshole was spasming as it stroked the dildo,
the hole gaping open both from the brutal fucking it had received from
Scott, Zack and me, and from its mental conditioning, which caused its hole
to dilate any time it was presented with a cock of any type, real of
artificial.  I knew the faggot was trying to will its hole closed, its fear
and shame making it want to withdraw into itself, but its innate need to
serve men and my training were both too much, and so, despite its efforts,
its hole stayed open, ready for more penetration, just as it should be.

"Enough, pig.  Time to get that horse cock inside it before we get bored,"
I said.

The pig stood up on the coffee table, wiggling around until it finally got
the massive head positioned against its hole, then began to ease itself
onto the dildo as slowly as possible, with lots of gasps and sobs as its
already-tender hole was raped by the silicone monstrosity. It had to wiggle
its pretty, bruised ass a lot in an effort to get the head and ring inside
its sphincter. It looked like it was trying to shove a baseball up its ass,
though instead of being nice and round, the ring of the sheath was actually
curved up slightly, like a real foreskin, which meant it was scraping the
walls of the faggot's ass with each movement.  For the first time, the
faggot's drain was completely limp and practically retracted into its body
from the pain in its hole.

Almost ten minutes after it had started, the faggot had managed to just get
the head of the dildo inside it.  Clearly, this wasn't acceptable, so I
decided we needed to hurry things along a bit.  I opened the drawer of the
table next to my chair, where I keep a number of faggot training devices
handy.  I pulled out a pair of tit clamps, heavy ones with a thick chain on
them which gives them weight.  The clamps are very cruel, basically large
alligator clips with teeth.

"Here, Josh," I said, handing the tit clamps to him, "do the honors and
decorate the faggot, will you please?"

Josh loved those clamps, which is exactly why I gave them to him.  He took
them and reached up to where the faggot was precariously balanced on the
head of the dildo, trying to force itself past the pain to take more before
I got irritated.  Josh grabbed first one of its tender little tits, then
the other, and began twisting and pinching them.  As much as my pig has
always hated having its ass used, its tits were a different matter,
connected directly to its tiny little drain.  It didn't take long before
Josh's efforts resulted in it sliding slightly further down the shaft of
the dildo, as well as its drain expanding back to its full length, looking
like a pale, miniature version of a cock, the humiliating little bell
ringing with each excited throb.  Finally, Josh placed the clamps on its
tits, making sure they were secure, each clamp causing the faggot to
actually squeal as Josh let it snap closed on the faggot's tender nipple.
The teeth and pressure of those particular clamps are bad, but what makes
them really evil is the chain that connects them. Its weight drags the
clamps (and the fag's tits) down, and every movement causes the chain to
swing, creating a constant torment as the chain continually moves the
clamps, making them bite harder into the faggot's delicate flesh.

"Time to really see what this bitch can do," I declared.  "Josh, Zack, if
you guys don't mind, how about helping this pathetic cunt out some.
Otherwise, we are likely to be here all day, and I'm sure we all have
better things to do that watch some disgusting cockpig pleasure itself on a
horse cock."

Zack and Josh, of course, were more than happy to oblige, the little
sadists.  The stood on each side of the faggot and grabbed its ankles.  I
could see the faggot was about to resist, its weight on the balls of its
feet, trying to prevent further impalement on the dildo.  That wasn't about
to stop the boys.  Josh simply reached up and slapped its sore, swollen
nuts long enough to distract it, then he and Zack lifted its feet off the
table, placing all its weight on the dildo.

Let me tell you, it's a good thing I have a bit of land and the neighbors
aren't right on top of me.  You could have heard that fag scream for miles
as its own weight caused it to slide down that dildo, the massive shaft
burying itself inch after inch inside the cockpig's guts. By the time that
cruel, bulbous head and ring entered its second sphincter and lodged there
deep inside it, the faggot was beyond begging, beyond making sounds even.
It hung there, like a bug pinned to a card, helplessly impaled on about a
foot of horse cock. I knew there was no way it would be able to take the
entire length.  As much as I'd like to see that, I didn't want to rupture
my property before it was fully trained, so I motioned for the guys to
release its legs.  They placed its feet beneath it, so that the cunt was
now crouching on the coffee table, almost half of the huge pole inside it,
the clamps bumping around with each squirm or wiggle.

I allowed it a moment or two to catch its breath, while I explained what it
was going to do.  I had to slap its face a few times to get it to focus on
me.  "Listen, cunt.  It has exactly three orgasms left for the rest of its
life.  I'm going to be generous and allow it to have one of them tonight,
right now, as entertainment for our guests.  I expect it to ride that horse
cock and fuck the cum out of itself, since that's the only way it will be
allowed to get off in the near future. Of course, it's going to be painful
as hell, but it needs to get used to that.  It will never again get to cum
pain-free, faggot. Its last three orgasms will be painful, the way faggots
deserve. Of course, there's the possibility, I suppose, that the pain will
be too much and it won't be able to cum, but that's not a big concern.  If
it can't empty its pathetic little nuts in the next five minutes, I'll just
consider that a forfeit, and it will lose one of those three remaining
orgasms forever.  And who knows when it will get this opportunity again," I
said, starting deep into the bitch's eyes.  "I might let it try again
tomorrow with some other torture, or it might not get another chance to cum
for a year or more.  Now, get busy, faggot.  These men want to be
entertained," I smiled cruelly.

It was quite a sight, let me tell you: the little ginger faggot, its face
twisted with a combination of pain, fear, and undisguised need, sliding its
body up and down that huge dildo, the head of it scraping its delicate anal
walls with each motion, the tit clamps acting as a constant separate
torment.

"It'll never make it," Scott remarked.  "It's going to suffer for nothing,
and lose an orgasm.  Just watch."  He sounded like he was not only
confident in his prediction, but as if that would ultimately be the most
satisfying outcome from his viewpoint.

Zack shook his head. "Nah, it'll cum.  Bet ya."

"Ok, twenty bucks," Scott said, pulling a bill out of his wallet.  "Twenty
says the cunt doesn't cum before the time limit."

Zack grinned, and told Josh to keep time as he threw a twenty down on top
of Scott's money.  He picked up the cane and stood up, walking around
behind the faggot, which was struggling to fuck itself on the dildo.

"C'mon pig, I've got money on the line.  Take that dick like a good little
fuckhole!" Zack said.  Before the faggot could react, the cane was
whistling as it cut through the air, landing across both of its stretched
ass cheeks.  The pig made a high, keening wail of pain as the blow caused
it to lose its balance and slide further down the pole. Zack began calling
encouragement to the faggot the way you would urge on a racehorse you'd
placed a bet on at the track, using the cane to force the faggot to fuck
itself faster and faster, to rape its own hole deeper and more completely
as entertainment for us.

"Two minutes left," Josh called out, a grin on his face.  Regardless of how
this show ended, he was enjoying watching it.  Zack continued to whack the
pussyboy, forcing it to slide up and down on the rubber cock faster and
faster, the little bell tied to the head of its drain ringing shamefully in
time with its movements.  I could see from the pig's face it was almost
there, right on the edge of the orgasm it had been needing, craving,
begging for during the last six months, only to be repeatedly denied.  Its
need was written there for all of us to see; raw, desperate need, which
could only be satisfied by torturing and degrading itself in front of us,
making us laugh at its predicament.  And laugh we all did at its pathetic
attempts to reach the height of pleasure despite its torment, or perhaps
because of it.

"One minute," Josh intoned.

"Fuck this," Zack sighed, exasperated.  "I'm not losing this damn bet!"  He
jumped up on to the coffee table next to the faggot, and grabbed its fuck
handle in his hand.  With his other hand, he fished out his erection. He
shoved the faggot's head down on his fat, uncut cock, and quickly fed the
bitch the entire length, so that the fuckboy was completely plugged in both
ends.

Zack began pounding his cock into the faggot's mouth while he pulled on the
chain connected to the tit clamps, tugging on the fag's nipples, twisting
the chain between his fingers until the bitch's tits were pulled well away
from its chest.

"Ten seconds!" Josh called.  He began a countdown. "Nine, eight..."

At five seconds, Zack was panting from fucking the fag's mouth.  He grabbed
the chain attached to the clamps in his fist and jerked hard, snatching the
cruel clamps off the faggot's tits in one motion, causing the pig to scream
as best it could with his cock deep in its throat.  Zack let out a loud
groan and dumped his final load of the night right into the faggot's
throat.  The combined pain from its tits and the throbbing of Zack's
ejaculation was more than the cockpig could handle. Just as Josh was
finishing his countdown, it let out another scream muffled by Zack's cock,
and six months' worth of disgusting fag scum shot out of its little
drain. Rope after rope of cum flew out, some even hitting the far wall.
All of us started laughing and hooting at the sight.  Zack, with a smug
grin, pull his cock out of the pig's mouth and picked up the money he'd
won.

"Told ya," he said, tucking his dick back in his pants.

I looked at the cockpig.  It was spent, utterly exhausted, still impaled on
the horse cock but almost passed out from the power of its orgasm.  The
boys had used the faggot hard.  It was covered with welts and bruises, and
reeked of cum, sweat, and piss.

I snapped my fingers to bring it back from where ever its cum-soaked little
mind was wandering. "Don't just sit there resting, faggot.  Clean this mess
up.  Now!"

Slowly, painfully, the cockpig started to extricate itself from the giant
dildo buried deep inside it.  After all it had been through, its legs were
rubbery as it pushed itself up and inch after impossible inch of the horse
cock slid out of its ass.  As impressive and humorous as it had been to
watch it going inside the faggot, seeing the length of it coming out was
even more unbelievable.  Finally, with a loud groan, the bitch pulled
itself off the last inch, the ring along the head of the dildo making one
last, painful scrape of its guts as it popped out of the fag's sphincter.
The faggot collapsed onto the coffee table while the massive, inhuman
phallus remained standing, forever erect, forever ready to turn a pig
inside out just to amuse some bored guys.

Painfully, the faggot crawled down off the coffee table and began licking
up the copious amounts of its cum, including crawling over to the wall and
licking the wall clean, removing any trace of its shameful, disgusting
orgasm so as not to offend the men in the room.  I was pleased to see I'd
trained it well – without being told, it even licked the giant dildo
clean, leaving it spotless and slick with its spit.

I picked up the faggot's chastity cage and quickly reinstalled it on the
pig's drain.  It whimpered a little bit, but clearly accepted this as a
part of its new life now.

"Cage," I said with a wave of my hand, dismissing it.  It would be nearly
useless the rest of the night after what it had been through. The faggot
gratefully crawled out of the room and downstairs, where it obediently
locked itself in its cage just as the guys were saying their goodbyes.

After the guys left, I walked downstairs to take a look at the cockpig.  It
was already passed out from exhaustion, curled up in its cage like a good
little beast.  As I surveyed the marks covering its back, ass, and legs, I
began to contemplate how far it had come in such a short time, and knew,
right then, it was time for some more serious "remodeling and
customization" of my new property.

***********************************************************************************

Thank you to all who have written to me with feedback about this story!
Your interest inspires me.

Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com