0 comments/ 3441 views/ 1 favorites The Story of Indio By: justincbenedict I write to you of my friend Indio...who became a male slave/master when he turned twenty-one and went to college! Nineteen year old Sipple Knox was what they call a "fourth generation legacy", a rich boy who didn't have a lot of smarts, and just got into Georgetown 'cause all his relatives did. Sip couldn't take his eyes off Indio, though--partially because they were roommates. Only my Indio could turn his previously heterosexual assigned dorm-fellow into a slave lackey boy. Sip was fascinated by Indio, but at first he thought it was just because of Indio's muscles--as I've said before, Indio was either a half-Arab, or half-Indian, and they're not known for muscle, but Indio had quite a bit of it, though he was very slender and not that tall. Indio spent a lot of time sleeping on his bed the week before classes started, and Sip was always jabbering to Indio about how good he looked. Just, of course because Sip thought he wanted workout tips from Indio. Of course. Indio chapter three Indio was amused by Sip, and allowed him to tag along wherever Indio went. Sip's girlfriend was annoyed by all the time that Sip spent with Indio, as were Sip's friends, who couldn't understand why Sip was spending all this time with a "nigra" As you know in 1968, a lot of people were still in the woods about racism. Indio had an old soul for a child of eighteen, and wasn't much interested in the traditional post-adolescent activities, keg parties, football games, levitating the Pentagon, all that nonsense. Indio spent a lot of time reading his favorites since childhood--Dewey, Emerson, Hegel, Hobbes, Hume, Kant, Leibniz, Locke, Machiavelli, Mill, Plato, ... and of course, studying his mathbooks, as he was a math major. But our boy Sip just bothered Indio so much--and then one day Indio caught Sip watching him shower. And Indio got annoyed, especially since Sip was playing with his pee-pee. "Zip up, Sip!" Indio ordered, as he got out of the shower. "Jesus, man, what the fuck's wrong with you?" Indio took Sip by the collar and shook him. "I've put up with you staring at me while I'm asleep, following me around and talking to me while I'm trying to read...but you must be such a homo to be choking your chicken while I'm showering!" Indio shook Sip again. "I think I'm going to have to tell the Dean that we have a pervert in our midst, and you know how the good Fathers will feel about that." Sipple was terrified. "Please, Indio, don't tell them anything!" His eyes rolled in back of his head. If Sipple had had any common sense, he probably would have realized that no one cared about Indio, a half-breed scholarship tick without even a last name. After all, Sip was rich and alumni connected, and his granddad had built the school a gym just to ensure Sip's admittance! But Sip looked so pathetic that Indio let go of him for a moment. "Look, you're off the hook, Sippie." he said as he took his towel off and rubbed his lovely naked brown body with it, making sure all his pectorals and his beautiful nipples were dry. Indio pretended not to notice Sip watching him hungrily. "Maybe I'll just move to another room." Indio said. "That'd be good enough, and some guys in the Math Club would be happy to have me in their frat." But this was too much for Sip. "No, please don't leave, Indio." he begged. "I'll do anything to have you stay. I couldn't live with myself if you were gone. I just broke off with Babs because she was complaining that we hang out too much...p-please, I'll do anything." Indio then looked at Sip severely. "Well, if I let you stay, you'll have to be punished for your perverted interest in me." "An-anything." Sip then said, but his tone was a little scared. They went back to the dorm room, and Indio dressed and locked the door, and took Eugene's old straightened coat hanger with the hockey tape on the end out of the drawer. "What's that?" Sipple asked nervously, as Indio took a couple of practice swings in the air. "This is what my brother of choice in the orphanage used on me when I got out of line." Indio said firmly. "It made me the man I am today." Indio turned and looked at Sip steadily. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to see my body, Sip, but there's a lot wrong with sneaking around and not admitting that you're a full-fledged faggot, just as I am. Take down your pants, young man." Now it must be mentioned that Sipple was actually a sophomore, and at least a year and a half older than Indio. So the "young man" comment was rather strange. But Sip's dick got hard as he heard that--later he told Indio that his grandfather, Sipple II, had often said the same words to young Sip, as Sipple II deplored Sipple IV's raising at the hands of his too indulgent parents. Many times when Sip had been visiting his grandfather's farm in the summers and had fucked up in some way--stealing jam or whatnot--his grandfather had taken Sip's pants down and given him severe "larrupings" as they were called. So Sip, sweating bullets, undid his pants in front of Indio, and pulled them down, undies as well. "Over your bed, Sip." Indio said and the bigger boy lay across his bed, closing his eyes in terror. "Now I want you to tell me how grateful you are that I'm taking the time to punish you, Sipple." Indio said solemnly. "After every lash from my uh, lasher I want you to thank me--say, 'Thank you, Indio for taking the time to help me.' All right?" Sip nodded affirmatively. Indio got pissed off. "That's no way to answer me. God, you make me sick." WHACK! There was a thin red line across Sipple's fat buttocks. "Well?" Indio demanded. Sip coughed. "Th-thank you Indio for helping me out." WHACK WHACK WHACK! "Goddamn it Sipple, I told you to say 'Thank you, Indio for taking the time to help me.' not some mumble that you came up with. We'll try again." Indio lifted the coat hanger again and landed the vicious steel wire across Sipple's butt. "Th-thank you--oh it hurts--Indio for-for-" "Taking the time" Indio prompted, and then whacked Sip again. "Why don't you start over." WHACK WHACK Now Sip was sobbing. "Thank you, Indio for taking the trouble to help me." Indio became very upset. "Now I told you to use the word 'time' and you used the word 'trouble'. I get the impression that you are sassing me, Sip." Sipple howled. "No, it just hurts so much, Indio--I have trouble concentrating." Indio shook his dark head. "I'm afraid that's not much excuse, as certainly you concentrated well enough when you were staring at me in the shower!" Indio ordered Sipple to rise. "I think I'm going to have to punish your dick for distracting you so much." Indio said, tapping the coat hanger against his palm. " You're half naked--why don't you take your clothes off and stand in front of me, and we'll take care of this penis problem." This time Sipple gulped, and as they say in 7-Eleven parlance, it was a Big Gulp. Now Sip was standing in front of Indio, trembling, but his cock was getting hard against its will. I can imagine Indio staring daggers at Sip, wearing his tight black turtleneck or one of his muscle shirts, and Sippers just couldn't stop being excited. Indio put the coat hanger back in the drawer and took a wooden third-grade school ruler with "PROPERTY OF BOYSVILLE-FRANKFORT" on the back. and rubbed it gently up and down his fingers. Eugene had done quite a bit of genitorture on poor Indio in his time, after he'd learned that Indio was a natural masochist, so perhaps Indio wanted to get some of his own back. Sip was terrified, but Indio could tell he was also compelled. Suddenly there was a knock on the dorm room door. "Hey Sip" came the voice of Diocletian "Binky" Soames. "Come on out and shoot baskets with us, and then we're going to Lauren's party in Foggy Bottom. She's got a whole apartment to herself, man...and her friends are going to be there." Indio softly said, "Sip, if you want to go, I won't stop you man. This punishment is for your own good, but you can go if you like." Sip shook his head. "Binky, it's okay, I got some studying to do, and Indio's helping me. Have a blast!" "You sure?"Binky couldn't believe that Sip would turn down possible sex at Lauren's. "No, go ahead." Sip said. Indio smiled at Sip and reached over and began casually stroking Sip's cock, making it harder. "You're quite the boy there, Sipple. You know what you need from Daddy, and I'm damn proud of you." Sip blushed under Indio's praise. He'd gotten not much real praise from his rich parents, who gave him whatever he wanted, and Sip's grandfather who had provided all the firm love Sip needed, had died when Sip was in high school. "Now you're going to prove to me that you're a big, brave boy, Sip!" Indio said with geniuine love. "Put your hands behind your back and jut out your cock." "B-but maybe we can stop now..." Sip said hesitatingly "I mean...I've been good." Sip was scared to death, but you could tell how hard his cock was. "I thought maybe we could fool around a little." Indio smiled at Sip. "Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'After the feast, there's the reckoning?' Well, you had your feast watching me in the shower, and now comes your reckoning...and then maybe there will be another feast, maybe not." Sip ended up jutting his penis out and closing his eyes. Sip put his hands behind his back. Indio lifted the ruler over Sip's penis. SNAP! Sip was somewhat of a tough guy, he'd played halfback for the football team at the Hill School as a teenager, but the crack of the wooden ruler against his cock was nasty. SNAP! CRACK! WHAP! After these three slaps, Sip howled, and grabbed his cock and did a dance around the dorm. "Nice jitterbugging there," Indio said admiringly. "But you must learn to take your punishment with more um, gravitas." "B-but it hurts so much." Sip said tearfully. "My penis is raw, man." Indio shook his head sympathetically. "Yes, it's not doing well, look at that little trickle of blood by your cockhead. But Sip, this is a valuable lesson for your penis. It's got to stop leading you into weird-ass situations like beating off while I'm in the shower. Your penis will thank us BOTH for this eventually. Now hands behind your back, and jut your dick out once again." Sip obeyed reluctantly. Indio shook his head. "I just can't trust you not to grab your dick again before I'm done, son. So I'm going to have to bind your hands with this cord from your clock-radio. I'm gonna have to cut off the cord, but for a rich boy like you, new clock-radios are a dime a dozen." After Indio had tied Sip's hands he made Sip stand against the dresser so he wouldn't dance. "Now, Sip, close your eyes as before." Sip closed his eyes unhappily. Indio put his arm around Sip's shoulder and kissed Sip on the ear, which made Sip's dick go up considerably. "Now I want you to make your Master proud" This was the first time that Indio had referred to himself as "Master". "Prove to me that you can take this pain...show me what you can do, and I might let you have a treat later." Sip nodded his head quickly, his eyes still closed. Indio lifted the ruler. WHACK! SNAP! CRACK! The three times that the ruler hit caused Sipple to gasp and he tried to move away from the dresser. But while his hands were tied, Indio had used an extra length of cord to secure him to the dresser, so Sip kept trying to pull away from the dresser. Whenever the cord that was attache to the drawer pulled out, Indio pushed it back in. "Sip, don't you trust me, baby?" Indio asked as he leaned over and kissed Sip's neck a bit. "I want you to be the man I know you can be. But you need to learn to accept pain. Can you be a good boy and learn to accept pain?" Sip nodded distractedly. Indio patted Sip's shoulder again, and raised the ruler. This time, Sip kept his eyes open. "That's right, baby." Indio whispered. "This is a beautiful thing...live in it." WHAP! CRACK! SLAP! RAP! Sip was able to take the punishment to his cock this time with a minimum of moans and jumps, though it was obvious that he was still in full pain. Indio reached down and grabbed Sip's balls and squeezed them sharply, and Sip buckled for a moment, but as Indio released him, he stood up tall and proud. After it was over, Indio asked Sip what he wanted his treat to be, and Sip unbuckled Indio's pants and began sucking Indio's dick greedily. It was Sip's first time, but Indio reported that the boy didn't do badly. Soon after this, Sip asked his parents to fund an off-campus apartment...they were so relieved he didn't want to live with his girlfriend that they didn't ask too much about the minority scholarship student that Sip was trying to help out. And they were pleasantly surprised! Sip gave up smoking pot and excessive drinking, and though Indio was only a freshman, he could dance circles round Sip intellectually, and began tutoring Sip in the subjects he was getting C's and D's in. "Much of Sip's problems" Indio wrote me, "Are with laziness more than lack of intelligence. So I've told him that I expect good results. Anything less than a B on a minor paper or quiz is going to result in thirty with the coat hanger whip; and on tests and exams and term papers, he'd better pull up or he's going to get seriously hurt!" Indio told me that Sip would need lots of training...and how! "Aarrgh!" Sip screamed one afternoon as Indio attached yet another mousetrap to Sip's rock hard penis. Sipple was bound naked on the French antique vintage marble-topped table that his mother had sent. The marble was elegant, but quite cold! Sip was on his back, wrists knotted behind him...but he was grateful he wasn't on his stomach, as not only were there about seven traps on his crotch, but there was one on each nipple as well. "How my nipples hurt" Sip whined, and Indio smiled grimly. "You are fortunate you didn't train under my Master Eugene, Sipple. He used to attach a cowbell to my nipple clamps and make me walk around ringing all day!" Thinking of it, Indio looked somewhat annoyed, and he slapped Sip's nipple clamps with a backhand motion And the pain was excruciating. "Oh, what are you doing to me, Master?" Sip gasped, as tears rolled down his face. "I must like it because my dick is hard,but it's all so painful!" Indio pinched the side of Sip's dick and placed the fifth mousetrap on Sip's dick. His dick looked now like a deck of wood, all the little wooden traps were aligned along his thick dick. "Well, what you're feeling is pressure to your shaft, Sip." Indio said soothingly, as he flicked one of the traps with a brown finger. "The penile shaft is a structure of numerous skin layers covering the tissues called the corpora cavernosa. Their arteries fill with blood when you get a hard-on." Indio then idly knocked one of the traps off Sip's dick and he screamed. "Although the shaft is not very sensitive when flaccid, as it fills with blood during your sexual excitement, Sipple, the pressure makes it extremely sensitive." Indio interrupted his lecture to replace the mousetrap on the underside of Sip's cock--the frenum. Indio moved Sip's legs apart a bit, and began adding mousetraps to his balls. As he handled Sip's scrotal sack, he talked on. "Your ball bag here contains your testes, or your nuts, two bits of fibrous soft glands, and the nerves in the testicles are quite sensitive, which makes squeezing them fun--" Indio wrenched Sip's scrotum, and Sip howled--"at least for me, eh?" "I want these off, anything but these!" screamed Sip. "Why on my balls?" Indio sighed. He reached behind him and brought out a stainless steel cylinder about the size of a can of beans. Indio quickly removed the erring trap. "Now we're going to do an alternative ball trainer, just for you, Sippie." Indio said kindly. "You told me last night that you were excited by your slave training and wanted me to go farther, but now you say you can't take too much. It's a double message. I'm going to have to put the Ball Crusher on you." As Sip gaped, Indio stuffed his balls into an opening on the top of the canister. Then Indio locked the canister around Sip's balls, and pressed something on the side, and Sip felt the canister contracting around his testicles. Suddenly Sip emitted a girlish shriek! " "Ah, that' s the sign that we can set your crush level at point four." Indio said approvingly, and he clicked something else, and the gradual contraction stopped, mercifully. Indio paused, turning from his testicles and looked at Sip's right nipple, and suddenly he slapped off the trap, and Sipple began weeping like a little girl. "Oh you're going to make me lose my lunch." Indio muttered. Indio was concerned because Sip's nip was retreating into itself, but he had a plan. Indio had "borrowed" a forceps from Georgetown University Hospital, and with this he grasped Sip's shy nipple, somewhat savagely. Indio took the nasty little forcep and pinched hard on the nipple and Sip howled. "Good God, Sipple, why can't you shut up?" Indio dropped the forcep for a moment and went to the liquor cabinet and came back with a gin soaked washrag. "Now, silence!" As Indio stuffed the rag in Sip's mouth, he spread duct tape over the rag. Now Sip was a bit more quiet, as the gin trickled down the back of his throat. Indio shook his head as he kept pulling and tweaking the elusive nipple. "Goodness" Indio said. But he knew what to do. Sip's eyes bulged as he watched Indio head for the bedroom, and come back with a suction pump snakebite kit. Indio attached the suction pump to Sip's shy nipple and ran the pump until finally removing it, and noting with satisfaction that Sip had a nice large nipple now. Again Indio applied the trap, ignoring Sip's muffled screams. Finally, Indio was done. He slapped Sip harshly on the shoulder and Sip jumped off the table, suddenly feeling horrible because the thick stainless steel cylindrical Ball Crusher was now swinging between his legs. Sip looked down and couldn't believe it. His mousetrap covered cock was visible, but his balls were completely contained by the Cylinder! And it was heavy. What could Sip do? His hands were tied behind his back. "Now then, step into these" Indio said briskly,and Sip found himself wearing pink women's high heeled pumps. He was now standing gracelessly in the middle of the room, with the high heels completely biting into the heels of his feet. At lunch after Indio's funeral on a cold February day in 1990, Sipple Knox, now 200 pounds overweight and a banker married to a dominant wife told me: "It was unbelievable, what Indio threw on me that day. There I was with mousetraps on nipples and cock, and that horrible Crusher on my balls, trying to balance myself on the goddam high heels, with my hands behind my back...but was that all?" Sipple paused and downed a bit of gin and tonic. "No, Indio had had plans for me that day. The night before I'd invited a number of my buddies over, the loud, ignorant rich little assholes who I'd gone to prep school with. We'd stayed up all night drinking, eating catered food and smoking cigarettes, and watching television, and of course, blaring music. Indio hadn't said a word about it, he'd helped me prepare for the party, and then he'd gone to the library for the evening, not coming back til the house was a mess and my pals were gone. After Indio had trussed me up the next morning, with all that I'd mentioned, he told me he now wanted me to clean the mess my friends had made. "Will you untie me?" I asked, puzzled. Indio smiled. "No, I want you to get the dirty dishes and ashtrays with your teeth, shake them over the garbage, and then clean them with your tongue and drop them in the dishwasher. I'll open the dishwasher for you. Now get to work,and if there's a speck in the house when I get back from playing Frisbee with my Combinatorial Optimization study group, you'll get the whipping of your life. And you know I mean that, slaveboy." The Story of Indio And believe you, Hooks, I had a job ahead of me. We had these real expensive Wedgwood plates, and carrying one in my mouth hurt my teeth, because they were so delicate. First thing I drop one and have to end up licking cigarette butts and pieces of anchovy off the floor, and it took me nearly four hours to carry each of the plates to the garbage can and shake them. And of course then came all the licking of the disgusting pieces of dried gum, butts, joints and dirty food off each of the plates. But I became amazingly limber at dropping the glasses into the dishwasher with my teeth...and I did an adequate job..but Indio gave me a nasty thrashing anyway..." Even after twenty years. Sipple looked sick when he told me that story. But I could see a nice little bulge in his pants, anyway. Sipple also told me that Indio had made him carry his balls around in the Crusher for a week, which had been rather distressing in class, where the big cylinder was almost ripping through his chinos. After Sip complained too much, Indio actually pushed his cock inside the Crusher as well, and forbade him to go to the bathroom all day. Sip told me that at one point he was sitting on the toilet in the public restroom at school crying. Crying because instead of his comforting genitals, he had this big ugly silver thing between his legs, and he didn't have room enough to pee...Sip had actually rushed home and taken off his clothes and danced around with the horrible Crusher between his legs, like a little boy who couldn't hold it, and had to anyway. "Swinging between my legs, Hooks, the Crusher kept knocking me down, hitting one leg so I slipped and then I'd get up and dance around again, until by the time Indio got home, I was just lying on the living room floor, crying and holding my genitals. It was pure, unadulated hell." Finally Sip had had to beg Indio at the end of the day to release him, and Indio had made him write "Pride Goeth Before a Fall" 500 times before Indio released him. And of course he'd not made it to the bathroom, and had peed all over his mother's expensive Oriental rug...my my. Indio was disappointed at how weakly Sip had reacted to the Crusher, especially when it came to urine retention training. "Your bladder is spoiled, Sip" Indio advised his roommate, once again affixing The Crusher to Sip's cock and balls. Indio made sure that the Crusher had sufficiently squished Sip's genitalia completely. Indilo could never stop laughing when he watched Sip stand in front of him, naked with a big stainless steel (and he made Sip polish it) cylinder swinging between his legs. Sip preferred it when Indio just crushed the balls and he had his cock out, because then he could go to the bathroom, and it wasn't quite as painful...but Indio was not one to shirk his duty, and Sipple had what Indio called "lazy bladder syndrome" Before Indio had locked the Crusher on Sip he'd teased Sip's cock to an almost bursting erection, and then he'd suddenly shut the poor penis inside the Crusher, and locked it up quickly. "Yes, everything about your groin is spoiled." Indio said complacently. "You jerk off when you want to, you fuck these unfortunate girls and leave them..." As Inido said "them" he kicked the Crusher and made it swing between Sip's legs, which caused Sip to have both incredible pain to his penis and testes, AND a near loss of balance. "And then you drink all this beer, this schnapps, this whiskey...and pee all over the place. How many times have I made you lick your urine up from around the toilet because you missed your aim, Sipple?" Indio shook his head and folded his arms. But then he suddenly kicked The Crusher once more, harder, and Sip fell over. Sip tumbled, the heavy Crusher swung between his legs and then swung up, hitting him on the stomach as Sip lay on his back, gasping. Indio found this rather amusing. "Look how upset you are, Sipple. And think, my Master Eugene used to put me through so much more than this. Once we stole a catheter from the Boysville infirmary. Eugene bound me with my wrists tied behind my head, and a piece of surgical tubing gripped in my teeth. It ran from a keg of beer to the retention catheter in my bladder. I'd try to keep from drinking the beer, but whenever I relaxed my mouth, the beer would go down my throat until I clenched my teeth over it. And as the beer went down my throat, my bladder began filling with urine, and I couldn't pee, because of the catheter. Sip, I had to try to keep my teeth clenched over the tube to keep the beer from entering, but then I'd forget, and get more beer, and my bladder became fuller and fuller." Indio laughed as he watched Sip's eyes widen as he finished the story. "By the day's end, I was dead drunk and my kidneys felt like they were going to explode. And then, Eugene took the tube off the empty keg, did a reattachment on my penis, and I had to pee all the urine down my throat and drink it, which sobered me up admirably." "And think, Sipple, when Eugene did this to me, I was only twenty years old, and here you are, a big, strong, twenty-one year old man, and you can't take a little urine retention?" Indio shook his head. "You're a pathetic creature, Sip. But don't you want me to train you to be a good slaveboy?" Sipple nodded avidly. "Master Indio, I do benefit tremendously from your training, Sir. It's just that this Crusher business might be a bit too much for me, Sir." Sip got back up and stood there again, the Crusher swinging between his legs. "I just can't get used to the pain!" Indio shook his head again, sorrowfully. "Sip, I don't think it's gonna work out between us. You just aren't a true masochist...you're not really a submissive, you're more of a dilletante. Maybe we should just be roommates." Indio watched as Sip dropped to his knees, which of course made the Crusher hit the ground and bounce back up into his crotch. After Sip bit his lip from the horrible sensation, he spoke. "Please, Indio, don't give up on me. This is the best life I've ever had, Sir. I don't want anything else. I'm willing to give up all I have for this." And it was true, Sip had given up a lot. Although it was a three bedroom apartment they lived in, Sip was forced to spend most of his time at home in only one room...and when Indio didn't need him, and when Sip wasn't studying, he often was regaled to the closet in that room. Sip spent hours in the closet, waiting for Indio's next command. And he didn't seem to complain that much, even though Indio gave Sip vicious canings and tawsings for the smallest mistakes in housework or academic studies. Sip felt as if he was finally getting the discipline he needed, that in a world of countless choices, many of the choices were being removed so he would be a bit less confused. As Indio saw the tears in Sip's eyes, he began to feel somewhat moved. "All right, but you're going to have to train harder, Sip. You must be ready for whatever I give you." Sip nodded eagerly, and Indio instructed Sip to stand with one foot on a dining room chair. As Sip did this, Indio gently moved his other leg so that his legs were wide, and the Crusher was hanging between his foot on the floor and the foot on the chair. Indio went into the other room and brought out a cane, a broomstick and a steel Louisville Slugger, and put them on the table, retaining only the cane. "Now then, Sip. I want you to stand as erect as you can manage, while I put you through some paces." Sip's face was dead white as he nodded. (And I don't blame him. If I'd been Sip and saw that Louisville Slugger, I'd have jumped out the window, naked with the Crusher.) Indio bent the cane, a nice rattan jobbie, and looked at Sip. "Were you ever caned at school?" Indio asked as he bent and then took practice swings with the cane. Sip shook his head. "No, Master. I went to a very progressive boarding school,and we were given counseling when we screwed up." Indio chortled. "Well, we see how well that's done you." Indio lifted the cane and swung it against Sip's nipples, hitting them hard. Sip jumped, and the weight of the Crusher pulled him down on the floor. Sip lay there, holding his nipples and crying. Indio sighed. "As you were." Sip got up and put his one foot on the chair again. This time, Indio swung the cane against the Crusher, and it wobbled, and then stood still. "How was that, Sip?" Indio asked kindly. He could tell that Sip wasn't doing all that well. "It-it was painful, but all right." Sip answered. His balls were in incredible pain, mushed as they were against his cock in the Crusher. The cane had inflamed things a bit, but Sip was determined to be a man about it. Sip breathed easily again. "I'm ready for more, Sir..whenever you are." Later after Indio's funeral in 1990, Sip told me that this was the beginning of his mental health. "All my life I'd been indulged" Sip told me. "Given whatever I wanted, a pony at six, motor scooters and minibikes by ten or eleven...and I'd get ticketed for riding them madcap in the street, and a cop would take them away, and my parents would buy me new ones. I insulted servants and teachers, and never paid any kind of price...and yet I was miserable, and had been in therapy since third grade, and was in two drug rehabilitation centers for heroin abuse after my junior year of prep school. But Indio's training changed everything. All my life I'd just wanted peace of mind, and Indio as my Master gave me that...all I'd ever wanted was to think one thought at a time, and after six months with Indio, my mind stopped racing! I never needed therapy again, and when Indio broke up with me, he introduced me to Doris, my dominatrix wife, and she's kept me in line since...but I was scared the first couple of days." Sip had grinned at me that time, and I bet it was difficult. Twenty years before, standing in front of Indio, with the foot on the chair, Sip said again in a shaking voice, "Whatever you need to do to me, Master." Indio had grinned and had tossed the cane on the table, and picked up the sawed off broom handle. He swung it hard, and it slammed against the Crusher, but Sip stood firm. Indio hit it three more times, and though tears came into Sip's eyes from the excruciating pain, he stood still and took it! Then came the Louisville Slugger...and Sip fell down nine or ten times before he could stand tall for the swing and the BAAAANG of steel hitting steel. That night when Indio took off the Crusher cylinder, Sip's balls were black and blue, and his penis was covered in blood...but his Master was quite proud of him. So Sipple began wearing the heavy Crusher all the time for a while. He was allowed to urinate into the toilet in the morning, and then he'd turn to Indio. Indio would give Sip a long, probing tongue kiss, massaging his nipples, and then he'd play with Sip's cock with his skillful fingers until Sip was gasping and begging to cum...Indio then would jam Sip into the Crusher. After he'd turned the Crusher completely so it squished Sip;s hard cock and balls, Sip would fall to his knees, crying. "Oh Master! I love you Master, but it's almost too much!" This would go on for a bit, which was why Indio always started Sip's procedure early enough so he could get to school on time. Indio did try to be comforting. The Crusher was good for preventing all sorts of slave "mischief". With it on over his cock and balls, Sip couldn't pee, get an erection, or fuck anyone else. Indio considered the Crusher his best purchase, though he'd charged it to Sip's student account as "library fines." Sip then had to sit through classes all day and try not to let the Crusher be seen, and he tried to find looser and looser pants. Twice Sip ripped his expensive pants in class when the heavy Crusher bounced too hard, and he had to run home before anyone saw the stainless steel cylinder peeking through the rips in his Chinos. Finally, Indio gave Sip an old pair of heavy janitor's coveralls. For some peculiar reason he'd taken them after the Boysville maintenance man, Augustus, had died. They were too big for the five foot seven Indio, but Sip was about Augustus's size, so they fitted nicely. They were big grey things, these coveralls, that covered Sip'e entire body, he had to step into it int he morning and pull it over his shoulders. But it did hold the Crusher in place. Sip had always been something of a fashion plate, representing the more conservative students as the rest of the kids were busy growing their hair and protesting the Vietnam war. The coveralls were absolutely hideous, and Sip didn't like wearing them. What was worse, the name "Gus" was stitched on the breast. Sip's old friends from prep school began calling him "Gus" and what could Sip do? He had to take it smiling, as he was "choosing" to wear these horrible things. And the counterculture kids liked it, and Sip learned true humility, if not humiliation, by bouncing around the Georgetown campus in overalls. Sip began conversing with the hippie kids, and realized what a hypocrite he was to have a father on the draft board who'd given all his sons and cousins exemptions while sending blue-collar kids into the war. One day, Daisy, a cute little hippie girl was so thrilled by Sip that she gave him a big, wet, deep kiss, and invited him over to his dorm room. Sip learned the benefits of fidelity, while making out with Daisy on her bed...his erection kept trying to grow in the vicious Crusher and it was so painful that he finally burst into tears and ran out of Daisy's dorm. After this, even the hippies seemed to give Sip a bit of a berth. But Sip was learning discipline still,and Master Indio was quite proud of him, which was all that mattered. Sip was able to calculate now just how much he could drink all day so he wouldn't feel as if his kidneys were going to explode. Sip often walked around campus during the day, just wetting his mouth at drinking fountains to keep off thirst. Sometimes Sip would wet a washcloth and suck on it, promoting his friends to say, wittily "Take a sip, Sip." In time, Indio felt it was time to go a little further in Sipple's training, and wanted to start being creative. "What the hell are you doing, Indio?" Sip asked one morning as Indio bent over his genitals with a cotton swab."I am swabbing your urethra with a bit of Ben-Gay." replied Indio. As Sip felt the sensation on his piss hole, he began howling in pain. Indio slapped Sip, hard, and he shut up. "Enough, Sip. I am trying to make you the best slave you can be, and you thwart me at every turn." Indio said in a grieved tone. "Now be silent. I am rubbing a little tabasco sauce on your balls. I think you need more sensation in the Crusher. You seem so used to just being crushed." Sip's day at school was unbearable,as he kept grabbing his inflamed crotch, then remembering that the Crusher prevented his hands from doing any real comforting to his inflamed, imprisoned cock and balls. Could it get any worse? The next day was Saturday, and Indio got Sip up early, and bound him to a kitchen chair. Sip watched Indio, as his Master put on a pair of latex gloves. "We are fortunate to live next door to a couple that grows habaneros hot peppers." Indio said, as he cut the pepper open. "They're rather stingy, so that's why I'm wearing these gloves that I borrowed from the Georgetown Medical School." Sip writhed in his bonds and watched Indio's hands in the latex gloves as Indio ran his fingers inside the hot pepper until he'd gotten the gunk out, and was rubbing it between his fingers. "What's with the corncob?" asked Sip nervously. "Creativity, my Sipple. Lift up your butt, thank you." Sip screeched as the stinging corncob was shoved into his rectum. There was plenty of room there, as Indio had loosened Sip's rectum with dildoes, cucumbers, and once a rolling pin. After Indio had gotten the corn cob up Sip's ass, he also shoved in a butt-plug, to ensure that the cob wouldn't fall out. Sip felt as if his asshole was on fire, or perhaps in a nuclear explosion. Yes, it was Hiroshima in his anus, all over again. Then Indio went to the bathroom and brought back two Johnson's Band-aids, and he rubbed peppers on each of the gauze pads, taping each Band-aid over one of Sip's nipples. Sip forgot his anus for a moment as his nipples began to scream in pain. Indio was not done yet. No, not Indio. His pepper covered gloves rubbed about under each of Sip's arms, in Sip's mouth and behind each of Sip's knees...and then wandered up to Sipple's crotch. Sipple howled more as Indio ran his pepper stained gloves around Sip's cock, doing the entire shaft and shoving a bit of pepper in the urethra. Sip bit his lip until he nearly bled as Indio massaged Sip's testicles with hot peppers, and suddenly it was worse. Indio locked the Crusher on Sip as well, fully locking it until Sip's pepper infested penis and testicles were once again squooshed. Now Sip's entire body was basked in horrific pain. But Indio was nothing if not compassionate. He said kindly. "The good news is, your exams are over and it's Saturday, and I'll turn the TV on while you become accustomed to this new sensation. Would you like to watch Gilligan's Island or My Favorite Martian?" Within a week, Sip was able to barely tolerate his new regimen of peppers, and then came the hair shirt. What's a hair shirt, you ask? A hair shirt is made out of sewed together horse hair, that is worn next to the skin as a penance, usually by monks of the 15th century. Somehow, Indio had gotten hold of one, and made Sip wear it under his shirt. This apparently was horrible, as it covered poor Sip with countless itching stings...it seemed as if he'd had the worst haircut of his life, and it was all under his shirt. This,combined with the excruciating pain in his genitals, seemed to be levelling poor Sip, but he was determined to make it to school anyway. Sip was still wearing the Band-aids soaked in hot peppers on his nipples as well, so he must've just been in a world of hurt. But as he adjusted to it, Sip found a new and interesting challenge to concentrate in class. Wearing a hair shirt, pepper covered genitals, nipples and anus, and of course the Crusher made it quite a feat to focus on differential equations or the finer points of Beowulf. "But I'd always had attention deficit problems" Sip told me later after Indio's 1990 funeral. " And it was actually good for me to intensify my focus in the classroom while my crushed cock and balls, and nipples and asshole were stinging to high heaven, and I was itching all over with the damn hairshirt. And now and then Indio would throw in Ben Gay in the Crusher as well. But it sure cured me of being easily distracted by dropping a pencil or girl-watching. Later, after Indio took the Crusher off and removed my other sensory punishments, my attention was so good from the constant fight against the pain that I was easily able to make straight A's and got into one of the best MBA programs in the nation." After a time, Indio began to feel sorry for Sipple, and removed the peppers and the hair shirt But the Crusher stayed in his life for quite a while, as Indio was fascinated by the different challenges that Sip's cock and balls could take. Soon after this, Sip and Indio drove out to his great-aunt's farm in northern New Jersey. After having a hearty breakfast with the old lady, who was impressed with Indio's knowledge of classical music, the boys went out to the barn. Indio looked thoughfully at the beam running horizontally across the ceiling--a sort of rafter. Sip felt a bit nervous, and he had reason to be, for within twenty minutes, he was naked, except for the Crusher, and hanging from the rafter by a pair of handcuffs. The Story of Indio Standing on a cherry picker, Indio also locked Sip's ankles to two more handcuffs, and attached the ankle cuffs to the wrist cuffs. Now Sip was hanging with only the Crusher swinging from his crotch, as his arms and legs were locked onto the barn rafter. Sip said later that although the pain in his wrists and ankles was considerable, he was so worried that the beam would break and that he'd fall on the Crusher and castrate himself, that he couldn't worry too much about pain. Then Indio clapped his hands. "I wonder how much that beam can take" he said thoughtfully. Indio looked around the barn and found an old pail, and took it to an outside pump and filled it with water. Attaching a bit of clothesline to it, Indio went up on the cherrypicker and attached the bucket of water to Sip's Crusher. Sip now had the triple whammy of a. hanging by his wrists and ankles b.wearing the heavy Crusher, which was squooshing his hot pepper and Ben Gay treated genitals, and c.having a heavier bucket of water hanging from the Crusher. "It would be to your advantage not to spill the water, Sipple" Indio said softly. "I want to remain in a tranquil mood today." Indio got down and nodded to himself, and went outside to read "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen. After thirty pages, Indio sketched Grandma Knox's henhouse. After this he took a nap. For Sip, the next hour and a half was like nothing he'd ever gone through before. He had to pee, and couldn't because of the Crusher, and then he had a huge bucket of heavy water hanging from his genitals, which seemed to intensify the Crusher's effectiveness. Also, Sip noticed that his skin just above the Crusher, which was holding his cock and balls, was starting to show in a stretchy, alarming way. This was bad, as Sip was quite aware that only old men had really hanging balls. At twenty-one, Sip didn't want to have hanging balls too soon. Sip's wrists and ankles, up, spider like on the beam felt as if they were being wrenched from the beam. And of course Sip didn't know if the beam would hold. Indio did, as he had studied engineering books as a hobby in high school. Indio just wanted to fuck with Sip by making him wonder. At some point, amazingly, Sip fell asleep while hanging, and when he'd woken up, he'd spilled part of the water. My God, half the water has been spilled! Indio came back into the barn, yawning, and climbed the cherry-picker to let Sip down. After Sip had finished rubbing his wrists and ankles to ensure the blood still flowed, he looked at Indio, who was cutting some twigs off a long hickory switch. "I thought I told you not to spill the water." Indio looked at Sip inquiringly. "I hoped you wouldn't spoil a nice rustic vacation day by disappointing me, but again, Sip, you always do." Indio broke four switches on Sip's naked butt and thighs before he was done, and Sip became absolutely hysterical in his promises not to let this happen again. Indio tied Sip up on the beam again. Indio also re-attached the bucket the exact same way, and Sip was able to hold still for three hours while Indio sat outside and finished Jane Austen, and followed up with 50 pages of "Democracy in America" by Alexis D'Toqueville. The following weekend they came out to the barn again, and this time Indio stripped Sip, but there was a problem--the Crusher had broken. How it happened was a mystery, but possibly they'd been over-using it. So Indio just cuffed Sip's wrists to the rafters and let him hang, and then chained his balls to a bucket again--but this time filled the bucket with pebbles. This was a new experience in pain for Sip, but he was a brave fellow, and tried again to be brave the following weekend, when Indio attached a cinderblock to the bucket. "I am so glad you are becoming accustomed to your training" Indio said approvingly. The next weekend, Indio informed Sip that he had been working with some minority youths who were interested in joining the Black Panthers. Indio knew that Sip was a big one for guns, and knew a lot about it, and although Indio was a pacifist politically, he'd agreed to train the young black men using BB pistols. Sip told Indio he was fully supportive of Indio's efforts, and offered to use the farm to train the young men. Indio told Sip he was glad that Sip had come up with that, and that Sip could help further. Sip was happy to do so, until of course he discovered what Indio's idea was.