****** Blue collar Master, white collar slave. ******
                           Provided By: BDSM_Library
                              www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: A young banker is captured a brutal older construction worker. He is
dominated and modified beyond his wildest nightmares until his Daddy tires of
him








Blue collar Master, white collar slave.
3by 2NN
 
This story depicts homosexuality and very extreme S&M. If you are a
minor or this offends you, go elsewhere now.
 
Prologue
I sit on the couch in my owner's house, dressed every bit the
slave I am. My body from the tips of my toes to my eyelashes is
completely and permanently hairless, smooth, soft and beautifully
tanned. My upper body is clad in a thin, soft and pink rubber T-shirt
and my ass is clad in a pair of outrageously short and equally
outrageously tight, pink rubber hotpants. Their tightness exposes my
hatefully restrained cock, now without an orgasm for more than three
years, most humiliatingly, a constant reminder of what I now am. On my
feet is a pair of ankle high, pink plastic boots. They are not men's
boots, but rather very feminine a pair of extremely small stilettos with
seven-inch heels made of ultra thin metal. Finally I, like most slaves I
suppose, have a collar. While the "fashion" for slaves is either black
leather collars or collars of unbreakable steel, mine is a narrow strip
of very solid plastic. And it is white, shiny white. It is my Master's
way of reminding me not only of what he is, but also of what I once was.
 
Chapter 1
I saw the man who was to dominate my life completely and
utterly for the first time passing a construction site outside the
building where I worked then. I was twenty-five years old, one year out
of college and working as an analyst for small bank downtown and on my
way to work I passed the site. There were four or five men doing
something in a hole in the ground and as I passed it one of them came
up. He was a very large man, perhaps six feet eight and very muscular
with deep chest and by the looks very strong arms too. He looked to be
around forty and had the beginnings of the weather-bitten looks one gets
from working outside. As he stepped onto the pavement in front of me, he
looked at me. Only he did not just look at me; he looked me over, his
eyes moving up and down my body until they grabbed my eyes.
 
My sexual debut had been only two years ago and I had still not come out
publicly. My parents were dead and I had no family to come out to and no
real close friends since moving to the city. I still regarded it as
risky to come out at work so since starting at the bank I had
effectively been not only in the closet, but was also celibate. Celibate
only in the sense that I didn't have sex with another people. Of course
this had only increased my libido immensely and I was now masturbating
seven or eight times a day (usually more than once a day in the cramped
stalls of the company toilets) and as time went by I had become
increasingly desperate for real sex.
 
So when this guy, so strong and sexy looking, checked me out, I blushed.
And when he held my eyes I blushed even more and my cock sprang to life.
This made him smile broadly and as I passed he said, just loud enough
for me and only me to hear: "Hello sweet cheeks." I stumbled slightly at
that, which sparked a bout of soft chuckling on his part and I entered
the building blushing like mad.
 
As the day progressed I couldn't stop thinking about the incident. It
had been a long time since I had real sex and I had a definite thing for
big, strong guys a little older than myself. Especially if they took
control. I had never tried S&M or even bondage and had never even
thought about it (at least not consciously), but I certainly had a
submissive streak.
 
I had a great desk at the office with a desk right next to the window.
Normally I didn't spend any time looking out of it during the day, but
on that day I did. I couldn't see the dig from where I sat, the angle
was too steep, but I could see the place across the street where they
had the workers had set up their "headquarters". The first time I looked
no one was there and that was the case the second, third, fourth and
fifth time I looked as well. But the sixth time he was there and just as
I looked down, he looked up. I didn't think he could see in through the
windows, but it looked as if he was looking straight at me. I didn't
really believe it, but he kept looking and it felt just like he was
pinning me down with his eyes. I couldn't look away. Then he slowly
turned and with a slight nod he pointed at the small deli on the corner
opposite my building. Absurdly I felt I had to respond and so I nodded
ever so slightly. He must have seen this as he turned away.
 
As he then walked away I was suddenly overcome with panic. What had I
just agreed to do? Had I really told him that I would meet him at the
deli? I couldn't believe it, but as I saw his back disappear inside the
very same deli, I knew that I had done just that. This left me with a
choice: either remain at my desk and ignore him or follow up on my
reckless behavior. Although I really wanted to have real sex again, this
was a long shot and more than a little risky. And besides it was only
just past eleven o'clock and almost no one had gone to lunch. I sat
there making all these excuses to not go when I stood up and heard
myself say to the other three guys in the office, as casually as I could
manage: "Feeling damn hungry today. I think I'll grab an early bite." My
statement was received by mumbles and I exited the office quickly.
 
It a warm spring day and I didn't need a coat. Besides I felt way too
hot as I stepped into the small deli, a place I had been to many times
before. To my immense disappointment the guy was nowhere to be seen.
Sighing to myself I stepped up to the counter and ordered a sandwich. As
I paid for it and stepped away from the counter a voice, just loud
enough for me alone to hear spoke right behind me: "Go right, down the
alley outside. Halfway down there's an old abandoned auto repair shop.
Meet me there in five minutes." I turned around, much too quickly I
thought, only to once again see his retreating back.
 
For a moment stood holding my now forgotten sandwich, thinking that this
was crazy. Completely insane. I was chasing, or being chased depending
on how you looked at it, a man whom I had never really met, never really
talked to with the unspoken purpose of getting laid. He now wanted me to
go down a very deserted looking alley where the most probably scenario
was me getting mugged - if I was lucky. But like most cocks, mine had a
will of its own and soon I was walking out of the deli, depositing my
uneaten sandwich in the nearest garbage can and proceeding down the
alley. It was completely deserted and as I went further and further
along, the sounds of the city retreated and were replaced by an
improbable silence. When I reached the abandoned auto shop, which looked
as if it had gone out of business in the fifties, I was having second
thoughts. Maybe this was a bad idea.
 
Just as I turned to leave I heard a voice: "Didn't think a pencil pusher
like you had the balls to really turn up." The voice was deep and warm
and a little gravelly. It touched my crotch something awful and as I
turned my erection became embarrassingly obvious. I saw him look down at
it and blushed, but it did not go away.
 
He motioned me inside the derelict shop and I followed willingly. Now
that he had spoken the danger, at least the obvious danger of getting
mugged, had somehow gone out of the situation. It had been replaced by
an almost palpable sexual tension. Up until a few minutes before I might
have been on a wild goose chase, hunting for a fuck that wasn't there.
Now it was obvious that something sexual was indeed in the air. I was
just about to start with a clever nothingness and move on to suggest
that we meet after work when he grabbed my neck, gently but very firmly,
and drew me in for an overpowering kiss. I was caught completely by
surprise and raised my hands only to be surprised again as his free hand
found my crotch and grabbed this too. Again his grip was gentle but oh
so firm.
 
Surprised as I was all I managed to do was to flap my arms a little, an
ineffectual and more than a little embarrassing move, before giving in
to the kiss. As my arms slid around his shoulders, the hand holding my
crotch slid further back and suddenly he lifted me up as if I weighed
nothing at all. At five feet nine I certainly wasn't large and I worked
out to stay slim, but he handled me like I was made of air. He broke the
kiss off with a distinctly predatory smile and carried me farther into
the abandoned shop. I opened my mouth to ask a fearful question, but he
stopped me: "Hush honey. I'm just going to give you what you came for."
My look must have imploring and confused because he continued
explaining: "For a long, hard fuck, that's where we're going. That is
what you came for, isn't it Doll?" I blushed and unable to speak I just
nodded my agreement. "Thought so," he said. "A pretty, little boy like
you should never go too long without a good, hard fucking, isn't that
right?" Again all I could do was nod and as he carried me I rested my
head against his shoulder, letting him take complete control.
 
He put me down deep inside the shop in an old office. The only piece of
furniture left was a big oak desk, beaten and scarred, but still looking
very solid. The second I saw it I knew what was going to happen. And
sure enough. He loosened my pants so quickly I could hardly believe it
and before I knew it I was bent over, my upper body resting on the desk
as my trousers bunched around my ankles. I hadn't seen any lube in his
hand, but he must have had it, because the next thing I felt was cold
touch of it against my hole, followed by his huge cock. God it was big!
It was so big that I got seconds thoughts and mewled for him to stop. He
ignored this completely and accompanied by my squirming and moaning he
pressed into me. When he made his way past my sphincter it hurt bad, in
a very good way. My eyes opened wide as did my mouth, but no sound came
out. As he pressed all the way in I felt sure that I would split down
the middle. With his abdomen pressing against my ass, his tool in to the
hilt, I was frozen, unable to move at all. And I was hard. Very hard. So
when he began moving in and out I moaned to the rhythm, moaning and
groaning with abject lust.
 
His cock filled up me, filled up my world and as he fucked me I tried
best I could to move my ass to his beat, to please him, while I moaned,
lost in the moment. I don't know for how long this went on, but suddenly
his hand found my cock and my moaning turned to screaming. I don't know
what I screamed, if anything, and I didn't know for how long he screwed
me, but it can't have been long. Soon I came like I had never cum
before. My screaming picked up in pitch and volume and my body spasmed
insanely and an unbelievable amount of cum spurted from my cock. The
aftershocks were equally powerful, wracking me for a long time. Just as
my shocks were dying down he came, flooding my ass with a river of warm
cum, a stream of it running down the inside of my thigh even before he
pulled out.
 
I was spent, screwed almost senseless. Lying across the old desk, my ass
feeling suddenly empty, I enjoyed the feeling of finally getting laid.
And what a fuck it had been! The man had taken complete control, almost
forcing me. Almost. Now I was basking in the warm glow of a truly
magnificent orgasm and enjoying the feeling of his cum covering the
inside of my leg as the stream reached past my knee.
 
I enjoyed the feeling for a few minutes before being brought back to
reality by the surprisingly gentle touch of a rag moving up my leg,
wiping away the stream of cum on the inside of it. Looking back over my
shoulder I saw that he had a wicked grin on his face as he moved the rag
into my buttcrack, using far more force than strictly necessary to dry
it. I moved to stand up, but stayed down as he shook his head slightly.
The rag was then moved to my crotch where he again spent far too much
energy wiping my genitals clean. When he removed his hand my cock was
twitching slightly.
 
"You can stand up now Doll," he said as he stood back. Blushing at the
fact that he actually called me "Doll" I stood up and pulled up my
pants. "I'm John," he said by way of introduction and I in turn replied:
"I'm Tom." He smiled at this and said with a smile: "I think I'll just
stick to "Doll"." A little mad about his condescending attitude I opened
my mouth and started: "And I think I'll call you.... "John" is fine for
now," he finished, "or you can call me "Daddy"." I balked at this and
was just about to object when he again pulled me in and kissed me deep
and long. Again the kiss melted away my resistance and when he broke off
I was again panting, my trousers too small.
 
I definitely didn't want to call him "Daddy", but I did want him to fuck
me again. But how was I to express this without rebuking him and without
tacitly agreeing to call him just that? As I considered this he cut me
short by asking: "You don't have anything better to do tonight than
getting your brains screwed out, do you Doll?" I didn't, but I felt I
had to object to the way in which he called me "Doll." I opened my mouth
and said: "I don't, but I really don't like...." here I was again cut
off, not by his words, but by his hand cupping my crotch. I started
involuntarily and drew an excited breath as my hysterically needy member
rose in need of attention. Feeling my excitement he smiled: "The Bates
Motel off route 666. Six thirty. I drive a red Dodge Ram and I'll be
parked right outside. Just knock." I had no idea where it was and six
thirty was more than a little early for me so I opened my mouth to
object, but once again he had walked out on me. Seeing him disappear I
held no illusions that I would not be there six thirty on the dot,
panting like a bitch in heat. He had my number, no doubt about it.
 
I looked at the clock and realized that I had to get back to work and
that quickly. Then I looked down myself and saw what a mess I was;
clothes rumpled and do doubt with disheveled hair. Luckily there were no
stains on my pants, at least none that showed on the outside, so I could
claim to have fallen down, something that also explained why I had been
away for so long. The remains of his cum, drying on my leg and in my
crack, felt very awkward but could of course not be seen by anyone.
Feeling this as I made my way back to work made me feel special and
erased whatever objections I might have had to tonight's meeting.
 
Of course I needen't have worried that anyone at work would notice
anything. Only one noticed my hair and none commented on my clothes.
They did notice that I left early, but since I hardly ever did that no
one commented on it.
 
Chapter 2
The Bates Motel turned out to be a modern, sprawling motel off
the turnpike. I arrived there by taxi at precisely six thirty. In the
parking lot there were no less than four Dodge Rams, all red, but only
one had a huge chrome roll bar, a dazzling array of extra lights and was
polished to a high mirror shine. It had to be his and as I knocked on
the door in front of the car, it turned out I was right. "You're late
Doll," he drawled with a lazy smile on his face, "but that's alright.
You're gonna get the chance to make up for it." Stumped I nodded meekly
and at his invitation I came into the room, hearing the door close
behind me. I hadn't even sat down my briefcase when I felt his hand on
my ass, cupping it, feeling me up. I had imagined some conversation
before this, but again he cut me off by kissing me, this time on the
neck. What should have been objections turned to moans and pretty soon
he had me undressed. Without me noticing he had dropped his clothes too
and now stood stark naked in front of me. He looked even better without
his clothes on than he had before. Huge and very well muscled, he was
not the body building type although he looked strong enough. His huge
cock was erect and as his hand landed on my shoulder I knew what was
expected of me. Not only that, I wanted too suck it, wanted to feel it
in my mouth, wanted to taste the big brute. Again I was struck by how
big it was, how long and how wide. No wonder it had hurt going in. The
only wonder was how much I wanted it to hurt me again.
 
I did the very best I knew how: licking it gently, circling my tongue
across the head, sucking the pole greedily while cupping and gently,
ever so gently fondling his balls. On my knees with my eyes looking up
for approval I tried my very best to please John. I desperately wanted
him to be pleased, wanted him to love my sucking. He looked down on me
with a smile, never once breaking eye contact, as I sucked for all I was
worth. After watching me for some time, he grabbed the back of my head
and slowly began pushing me further down over his shaft, until the head
of his cock pressed against the back of my throat, making me gag. He
held my head there for a little while, even if I had wanted to it would
have been impossible for me to break free, and then pulled back, letting
me breathe and get the gagging under control. When I had recovered he
pushed his tool in again only this time it went a tiny bit further in
and he held it just a little longer before pulling back.
 
It went like that for a long time, until the head of his cock was quite
far down my throat, or at least that's how it felt at the time. It was
very uncomfortable and I had a hard time controlling my gagging reflex,
not mention the fact that it felt like I was choking. Finally I was
rewarded as he laid his head back groaned just before shooting his load
into my mouth. I tried desperately to swallow all of it, but there was
no way I could keep up with the flow and instead cum began spilling out
of the sides of my mouth and dribble down my chin. As he pulled out he
smiled down at me and said: "We'll work on that Doll. Now be a good boi
and lick it clean." Strangely this flattered me and I dutifully licked
his cock, still quite large in its semi-flaccid condition, clean with
relish. I was rewarded for this show of affection as he lifted me up as
easily as if I had been a small child and threw me on the bed where the
covers had already been turned back.
 
With a distinctly predatory look on his face he joined, moving on all
fours across the bed, like a tiger moving in on its prey. I shivered
involuntarily with lust as he approached. Without a single word he began
fondling my naked body, his hands finding every little spot on it,
lingering a tiny bit longer on my ass and at my nipples, but
frustratingly avoiding my genitals altogether. Soon I began moaning and
when he had fondled me for ages without touching my cock, my own hand
moved there involuntarily. It didn't make it past my waist as he slapped
it away: "No Doll, that's my territory now." His possessiveness made me
so hot that I could only whimper with disappointment at his immensely
arousing fondling, which continued unabated. Making me moan even more he
started kissing my body, while still keeping up the fondling. Right
before he touched my crotch for the first time I was almost reduced to
begging for him to do it. Even before his hand took my cock I was harder
than I had ever been before and when he laid hands on it I almost lost
control right then and there. Whining pathetically with the effort I
managed not to cum and this he took as signal to begin the games in
earnest.
 
The bed had posts in each corner and between these posts a metal bar
ran. He told me to grab hold of it and to not let go of it before told
to do so. Lying on my back I did as he told me to, panting with
anticipation. He then spread my legs, lubed up my ass and entered me
like that. Still tender from the fucking he had given me in the morning
I screamed a little as he entered me, but that didn't stop him. Didn't
even slow him down as he rammed his cock home in my ass. Grabbing my
hips he then began to pound me for real, a fucking at least as brutal
and fulfilling as the one before. I was now needier than I had ever been
before and I heard myself begging to be allowed to cum. "You have to beg
properly Doll," he grunted while keeping the pace. "Please John, can I
be allowed to cum? Please?" I implored him. "What's that Doll? Didn't
quite hear you." Lost in a haze of lust it took me a while to figure out
what he wanted of me and when it finally dawned on me it should have
humiliated me enough to loose interest. But as I spoke the words they
instead aroused me even further: "Please Daddy. Can I cum Daddy? Daddy
please?" At this he smiled broadly between grunts and replied: "Don't
know Doll. What should I do to a pretty, little thing like you before
letting you cum?" Whimpering in defeat and with loss I tried
desperately: "Fuck me Daddy, please fuck me. Pound me, split me open,
screw me 'til I bleed. Please fuck me Daddy. Please." I couldn't believe
those were my words, but there was no doubt that I meant it. I wanted
him to fuck me until it hurt, until I bled as long as he would let me
cum.
 
I kept screaming those things at him, kept calling him "Daddy" until
finally his hand closed around my cock. It was quick after that; two
strokes and I came in an explosion, screaming and thrashing as my own
cum spurted onto my stomach, while at the same time I felt his filling
up my ass.
 
When it was over my body as covered in sweat and more than a little cum.
My hands were still clutching the bed, my knuckles white with the
effort. "You can let go now Doll," he said gently and I took my arms
down as he pulled out of my ass, again leaving me feeling empty.
 
As I lay there he surprised me. Moving quickly he sat on my chest,
pinning my arms to my sides. His weight squeezed the air out of my lungs
and I almost began to get scared. Almost. With a predatory smile that
replaced my fear with lust once again he leaned down and said to me:
"You're my boi now Doll. And since you're my boi, there's playing
around, no flirting, no eyeing others. Until I let you go, I'm the only
one entering that fine ass of yours or using that talented mouth of
yours. Understood Doll?" More or less subconsciously I had been hoping
for this all along. Attracted to dominant, older men, this was what I
had been looking for and so I replied: "Yes." Smiling he shook his head
and asked: "What's that Doll?" Blushing I replied as he wanted me to -
as I had really wanted to reply: "Yes Daddy, I understand Daddy."
Patting me on the cheek and calling me a good, little boi, he got off my
chest and lay down next to me. Without even thinking about it I put my
arms across his chest and snuggled up against him, waiting for the next
fuck, which turned out to be just around the corner, which in turn was
just the beginning of a very active night.
 
Chapter 3
Daddy dropped me off at my apartment very early the next
morning. My ass hurting quite badly and feeling utterly spent, I just
had time to bathe, change and eat breakfast before going to work.
 
Over the next couple of months I got used to coping with very little
sleep, although as his brutal fuckings continued my ass gradually
adjusted. He fucked me whenever and wherever he liked: Abandoned
buildings, motels, public toilets or even in public as he once took me
from behind, kneeling on a park bench late at night. At least three
joggers passed us, looking very alarmed at the frantic fucking, but he
never let that bother him.
 
I even blew him in the subway once, two teenage girls watching. One
looked shocked but aroused against her will, while the other looked at
me in a distinctly predatory fashion. A small, blonde girl, quite
pretty, with an intense look in her eyes, approached Daddy as I put his
member back into his pants. Ignoring me completely, she spoke to him:
"I'm Amanda. If you ever want to see your boi get it from a girl, get it
really hard, call me." She handed him a card, for which Daddy thanked
her, and the looked at me: "You're the kind of bitch who's always going
to be property. The only one here who doesn't know it yet, is you. Be
good, boi." Her words made Daddy chuckle, but sent a shiver down my
spine. Was I really property? A slave of some sorts? I asked Daddy and
he looked and me and said: "You're mine aren't you?" he asked instead
and to that I had to agree.
 
Calling Daddy "John" made him mad and after only a few days only I
called him Daddy. He in turn never called me Tom, but preferred Doll.
And true to my word I never even looked at another man. Although I would
have liked it, we never talked about anything but sex and even here
there was precious little talk. But since the sex was fantastic I did
not complain.
 
Over time, however, our meetings changed in character. It became more
and more him fucking me without the reach-around, more and more blowjobs
from which I got less and less in return. In short, I was allowed fewer
and fewer orgasms, while he used me more and more like a fuck-toy. Not
that that wasn't very sexy, I just wanted to cum more often. So one
Wednesday evening where we had met up at the Bates Motel, I turned to
confront Daddy with this before we started fucking. He heard me out and
I was actually hopeful that I might be allowed to cum that night,
something I had not been allowed during our two previous meetings. When
I had finished he nodded and then suddenly, catching me completely off
guard, he slapped me so hard in the face that I was thrown to the
ground. In a flash he was over me, slapping me and hurling insults at me
as he literally ripped my clothes off. I screamed and cried but was of
course no match for Daddy. Very soon I felt something being forced into
my mouth only to realize that it was my own torn underwear. As I fought
to expel it, he used my tie to tie in place. As I fought this,
helplessly mewling into my gag, he suddenly produced a whole bunch of
leather straps and although I tried to resist, he soon had me subdued
and tied up helplessly.
 
My arms were tied behind my back with one strap going around my wrists
and another around my elbows. My arms had in turn been tied to my body
with a strap around my chest. My legs had been folded up and straps now
almost fused my calves with my thighs. I was trapped, beaten, defeated
and fearfully I looked up at my captor. "When I said that you are my
boi, I meant it Doll," he said, "I regard you as my property and
property has no say in what happens to it, understood?" Fearing what
might happened if I shook my head, I instead nodded fearfully. "Good
boi," he said condescendingly. Then he grabbed my hair and forced me too
look him straight in the eye. "You're a submissive little fuck-toy Doll,
and the only one who doesn't know it is you." I was paralyzed. This was
exactly what the girl in the subway had said. Did he mean that I was his
slave? He meant just that: "You are my slave Doll, nothing more. You may
object all you like, but that's what you are. And what's more, I know
you like it; hell you love it. And now, I'm going to prove it to you."
 
I was shocked! A slave, was that what I was? He couldn't seriously
suggest that I'd like, no love, being a slave? But Daddy did mean just
that. By way of proving it to me, he first untied my legs and made me
stand up. Moving me over to face the bed, he tied my ankles to the
bedposts, spreading my legs wide. Tying one end of strap around my neck,
he bent me over forward and secured the other end of the strap to the
crossbar of the bed. Forced to stand up with my legs spread wide, bent
over with my ass pushed invitingly up in the air, he moved out of my
field of vision. Then, with no warning whatsoever, I heard a swish in
the air and the hard leather strap that was his belt landed on my
exposed ass with immense force. In pain, but mostly with surprise, I
yelled as it landed there. But that was only the first blow and he kept
on beating me for a long time. Soon the pain was really bad and my yells
had turned to screams. Still he kept up the beating and tears rolled
down my face as I screamed and tried begging through my gag. It felt as
if the skin on my ass was being torn to pieces, torn off, and still he
kept it up.
 
Then finally, he stopped. I was so relieved that I cried with it,
mewling my thanks out through the gag. But only for a few short seconds.
Surprising me again, I felt how he grabbed my hips and forced his way
into my ass. He had been fucking me for about two months by then, always
using lubrication. Even with lubrication he was so large that my ass
hurt from the fuckings, something which had gotten me hot for as long as
we had been at it. Now, however, he used no lubrication whatsoever and
so it was to the sound of my almost hysterical screaming that he buried
his weapon in me, pushing it in to the hilt. Knowing that this would
hurt worse than ever; that I would bleed after this, I screamed and
tried to pull away. He just followed my movements and quite simply began
to screw me, only hard.
 
It was the most painful fuck I had ever tried, but very soon I found out
something which surprised me enormously: I made me hot like nothing I
had ever tried before. The pain, the helplessness, the humiliation and
the feeling of being completely and utterly controlled got to me like
nothing had ever gotten to me. My screams were now not only screams of
pain, but also screams of passion and my ass moved not away from his
strokes, but into them, swaying, bumping and grinding with the rhythm. I
have no idea for how long this went on. I was completely lost in the
moment, but when his hand touched my cock my screaming turned into a
most humiliating, high pitched keening; a sound of pure, raw need.
Running his hand softly, lightly, down my shaft two or three times was
enough. Thrashing and jerking while screaming with passion, I came like
I had never cum before. I had no idea that it could be like this; that
being beaten and owned could feel so fantastic.
 
My orgasm blanked out my mind completely and when I came down, after a
series of epic aftershocks, I had lost track of time altogether. Had I
not been tied up and held in place by Daddy's cock, I would have
collapsed. I was spent, used and controlled and it had never been
better.
 
Soon I felt him flood my ass, something that filled me with almost
savage joy. I was filled with absurd pride that Daddy had chosen me to
control, to punish, to fuck. I wanted to say this to him; wanted to
thank him for showing me this, but true to form he simply pulled out and
left me standing there, tied up and helpless.
 
I stood like that for a long time. Technically Daddy had just assaulted
me and raped me and if I had been told what would happen before the
meeting I would have fled and avoided him from then on. But not now.
Being beaten and raped by Daddy had been the most exciting, the most
arousing thing that had ever happened to me and I wanted him to do it to
me again and again. I felt like I should have been filled with
conflicting emotions, but in truth I felt no conflict. I wanted him top
rape me over and over again. I wanted to be his. What's more, I wanted
to tell him this, but he had left the gag in place, a pair of my own
torn and dirty underpants no less, so I was unable to convey my feelings
to him. Not that I thought he cared in the least, but I felt I had to
tell him how much I loved being taken by him.
 
I mewled pathetically into my gag to tell him all this when he returned,
but of course he ignored me. Instead he loosened the straps tying me to
the bed and the proceeded to lift me up and deposit me on my knees on
the bed. Wasting no time he again tied my legs to the bedpost, spreading
my legs wide as before, only this time I was kneeling. He then used a
piece of rope to connect my bound hands to the bed behind me, thus
making sure that I could not lean far enough forward to lie down. Still
not speaking he moved to my left side and showed me something he held in
his hand. It was an empty wine bottle. At first I didn't understand, but
as he smiled while shaking it a little I suddenly understood what was
about to happen. He couldn't serious! There was no way I would be able
to take it. But of course, I couldn't say this to him and my mewlings
were ignored. Even if I had been able to speak, he would have ignored me
completely.
 
This time he did use lubrication, though I didn't think he used nearly
enough, but still it was very, very tough going. Grunting and finally
screaming I was finally able to take it and for a very short instant I
felt relieved as the body of the bottle slipped past my sphincter. Since
the bottle was quite tall, my relief was short-lived. It filled me up
like nothing had ever done, not even Daddy's cock. Looking down my body
in horror I could see it outlined on my abdomen and feel it every time I
drew a breath. I was uncomfortably full and I had no choice but to
accept it.
 
While looking at my filled up and violated body, Daddy had gotten onto
the bed. He was stark naked, a sight that made me horny all over again,
and he had positioned himself so that my mouth was just above his crotch
where his pole stood up straight, beckoning me to suck it. I wanted
nothing more but was still gagged. Daddy then took hold of my chin and
forced me to look up: "I'm going to remove your gag now so that you can
suck my cock. Don't speak or I'll beat you, only good. Understood?" I
nodded not only my understanding, but my acceptance, my glad acceptance.
At that moment all I wanted to do was to suck his cock. There was
nothing I wanted more than to show my love and affection for the brutal
man in front of.
 
The dirty underwear had removed all of the moisture from my mouth, but
sliding my lips slowly down over his pole, my eyes begging his for
attention and affection, the water soon began to flow. My movements were
severely restricted, but I was able to lick his magnificent rod all the
way down to the root. Unable to use my hands I had to be extra diligent
with my tongue, something that made the whole thing even more arousing.
Again I lost track of time, but after a good deal of work I was rewarded
by a small fountain of cum spraying into my face as Daddy pulled my
mouth away at the last moment so that he could cover it with his juice.
 
Cum drying in cakes on my face, Daddy left me like that, tied up and
unable to lie down. A finger under my chin made me lift my eyes and he
spoke to me: "You are property Doll. My property to be precise." His
words sent shivers down my spine, but he pretended not to notice my
tremors and continued: "Since you are now my bitch I expect you to
behave in a certain manner. Any deviation from the rules I now lay down
will be punished severely. And you will not enjoy being punished by me,
understood?" Nodding I said: "Yes Daddy. I understand." This earned me a
vicious slap on the face and as I blinked away tears of surprise, pain
and humiliation Daddy explained: "First rule is: Never speak until
spoken to AND asked to speak. Understood Doll?" Again I said: "Yes
Daddy," which again earned me a ferocious slap on the face. "Never speak
unless spoken to and asked to speak. Understood Doll?" Finally
understanding just how restrictive the rule was, I blinked away more
tears and nodded. "Good bitch," Daddy said in his most patronizing tone
of voice. "Rule number two: you will obey every command I give
instantly, no matter how painful or degrading it is for yourself.
Understood?" This rule made me hard with submissive lust and much too
eagerly I nodded my acceptance. "Rule number three: unless I
specifically tell you to call me "Master", you will call me "Daddy"
always, nothing else. Understood?" Again I nodded, accepting his control
over me.
 
The rest of the rules followed in short order: since I was his property
I was to cling to him like a bitch in heat unless specifically
instructed to do otherwise. And since I was Daddy's little bitch I was
to speak in a high-pitched, squeaky little-girls voice whenever I was
with him, something that humiliated me beyond belief. And unless ordered
to do otherwise I was to look demurely down whenever in his company.
There were other rules, mostly additions to the ones already mentioned,
and put together they pointed to a very restricted form of behavior
around Daddy. The humiliation of having to live by these was of course
immense, but so was the excitement. These rules meant that I was
property, a slave, owned by a cruel man who would do with me as he
wished regardless of my wishes. I hadn't realized until then, but it was
what I had been looking for all along. The only thing that worried me
was how I was going to blend this with my other life; my professional
existence, a life so different from the one I would now have when I was
with Daddy. And I had no doubt that I would be spending even more time
with him now that he had claimed me for real. A weak and distant voice
was also asking what would happen when I tired of him and wanted to
leave. Would he even allow it and how would he react? For now, however,
I pushed all such thoughts away content at finally having found someone
to control me.
 
I was allowed to stand on my knees, tied to the bed for several hours
while Daddy watched a game on the TV, ignoring me completely. After the
game he once again positioned himself for a blowjob and at a mere nod
from him I complied, pouring all my passion into it. Again he pulled
back at the last moment to spray paint face with cum. Then he simply
rolled over and slept while I knelt most uncomfortably at his feet.
 
He slept for several hours and during that time my arms grew
increasingly numb. Not only that, but I was getting very nervous about
the bottle in my ass. So when he woke up I tried to say this to him as
gently as I knew how. I had barely spoken two words before he was upon
me, this time using his belt to hit my front. Unable to run of cover
myself he was able to hit anything he wanted, including my genitals. As
my screaming increased in strength with the prolonged beating, he gagged
me again so as not to disturb the ones next door. In no time I was
crying, trying to beg through the gag as tears of contrition that ran
down my face. This didn't stop him and soon I was desperate, mewling
with fear and pain. Then suddenly he stopped and grabbed hold of my
cock. My pleasant surprise was such that I almost swallowed my gag with
the huge intake of air his touch provoked. Suddenly the pain and the
fear had once again been transformed to arousal and as he held my cock,
I grew as hard as steel. When I was as hard as I could possibly get,
Daddy took my silk tie and tied around my cock and my balls at the very
root as hard as he could, so hard that I now mewled with pain. The
effect was to trap the blood already in my member, cutting off contact
with the rest of my body. Soon it began throbbing in a not very pleasant
way, but by then I had other things on my mind. Daddy had gotten off the
bed and now stood beside it with his belt in his hand using all of his
power he then began to whip my cock, which now stood sporting a very
proud, if involuntary, erection. The result was an excruciating pain
shooting up from my crotch. I screamed into my gag and thrashed, but
there was nowhere to go as his belt found its mark again and again. He
kept on beating my cock until it turned blue and numb from lack of blood
flow. When he saw this he simply picked up the pace, beating my cock
with a passion. I was hysterical by then, not from fresh pain as it had
more or less gone away as my cock had gone numb, but with the pain that
he had already inflicted and from looking at my ever more mangled cock.
I was convinced that it would be broken completely and that I would
never be able to have an orgasm again.
 
When he finally stopped I was dissolved in tears as I looked down on my
member. It was still as hard as rock and stood out proudly, but had
turned a dark blue color and cuts could be seen everywhere on the
surface. There wasn't much flowing blood since this had been cut off,
but it was clear that Daddy had hurt me very badly. To know this for
sure I only had to look at Daddy's face, which sported an evil grin. He
took my face in one hand and turned it towards him: "Don't ever disobey
me Doll. Never ever. Understood?" Crying I nodded. He then removed my
gag and told me to say it to him, remembering all the rules. Desperate
for his approval I spoke in the high-pitched voice of a broken bitch as
I answered: "Yes Daddy, I understand. I'm so sorry Daddy, I'll never
disobey you again Daddy." Nodding approvingly he said: "That's fine
Doll. I'm sure you'll soon be a good little piece of fuck-meat, Daddy's
little bitch. Isn't that so?" To this I nodded eagerly, being careful
not to speak out of order. Daddy smiled broadly and the looked me in the
eye: "Now, Doll, there's one final punishment you must endure for your
transgressions. Tell Daddy how badly you want it; how badly you want to
please Daddy." Swallowing hard, knowing I had no options at all, I
answered him: "Please Daddy, I'm ready to be punished. I'm sorry I let
you down Daddy." He patted my head and called me a good little bitch and
then went to fetch the garbage can. Somewhat puzzled I saw him hold it
near me as he approached my cruelly tied and punished cock. Just before
removing the tie around the base of my cock he said to me: "Now, Doll,
just this once you can speak or scream if you like." I was still
somewhat shocked at this statement when he removed the tie, wondering
why he had said it. At first there was only a slight tingling and I
thought that I'd get off with that, but of course I wasn't so lucky.
Soon the blood came rushing back and sensation returned to my bruised
and battered genitals with a vengeance. It was the worst pain ever. It
felt as if my cock was being torn off with a set rusty steel pliers. I
started to scream insanely, but the scream was cut short as the pain was
so bad that I vomited into the garbage can Daddy held in front of. As
wave after wave of nauseating pain rolled over me, making me puke, I was
absurdly grateful to Daddy for holding my head as I vomited.
 
Finally the nausea passed and I was able to look down on my cock. Even
in its flaccid state it looked to be in very poor shape, practically
torn to pieces. Without even thinking about it I spoke to Daddy in the
high-pitched whine of a broken bitch, crying for him to please make it
better, to please fix my poor cock. "Of course Daddy will fix it Doll,"
he comforted me, "but you'll have to trust Daddy and accept the pain.
Will you be a good little bitch and do that for Daddy?" I was willing to
accept anything and my gratitude knew no bounds, even to the man who had
caused me this excruciating pain: "Yes Daddy. Thank you Daddy. I'll be
ever so good Daddy." I pleaded on in my new voice, promising to be the
best little bitch ever, to always be good, to love Daddy always. I only
stopped when he placed his finger on my lips, invoking my silence.
 
He then left me to get the things needed to mend my cock. The first
thing he did was to wash it thoroughly, a very painful process. Then he
poured hydrogen peroxide on it to cleanse the cuts once and for all.
This was so painful that I as once again reduced to vomiting or rather
dry-heaving as I nothing left to throw up. After I had finished heaving,
he produced an odd looking object made of black rubber. "To heal
properly," he said to me, "your cock will have to be sealed inside this
pouch for two weeks. After that it'll be as good as new." Eager to
please and eager to heal my cock I nodded like mad. Patiently Daddy
explained that the pouch had to remain sealed for the entire period, so
I had to have some way of pissing without opening the pouch. I didn't
really understand until he showed me the catheter. I almost screamed
with fear when I saw the not-so-small plastic tube that would go up my
urinary tract, but since I had no choice I simply nodded meekly. I'm
quite sure that having a catheter inserted is never pleasant, but having
it inserted in a beaten and bruised cock was pure torture and again I
was reduced to screaming. When it was all the way in, I was a sobbing
wreck.
 
The catheter was an integral part of the pouch, which now only had to be
folded back over my battered genitals and sealed. Just before sealing
the pouch Daddy filled it up with a soothing disinfectant gel, making me
cry with gratitude. My crotch now held in a small black, rubber ball
with a little piece of rubber tubing sticking out of. The tubing was
constricted by a small clamp so that my urine didn't just dribble out of
it. The seal was achieved by a steel wire going around my scrotum and
being locked down with padlock. There was no way out of the pouch
without the key and of course Daddy held onto that.
 
When the pouch was on Daddy finally released me from my bonds. He did
not, however, remove the bottle from my ass and I was definitely not
going to ask - for anything. It would come out if and when Daddy wanted
it out. For now I was extremely relieved that my arms were not damaged
again and that I could stand up and stretch out, at least to some
extent. The intruder in my ass limited my movements to a surprising
degree as every little movement I made could be felt through it.
 
After releasing me Daddy made me move my arms, hands and finger to make
sure that everything worked properly. Then he instructed me to walk up
and down the floor. My legs worked all right, but the giant intruder in
my ass turned my walk into an unsightly waddle. Stopping me and lifting
up my chin so that he could look me in the eye Daddy made sure that I
understood that a sexy walk, no matter how much pain and discomfort it
caused me, was one of his requirements. Understanding fully the pain it
might cause me if I did not comply, I tried walking again, this time
telling myself to ignore the presence in my ass. I did do better,
managing to sway my ass somewhat as per Daddy's instructions, but Daddy
was not satisfied. Before receiving his rebuke I, he instructed me in
how to stand at proper attention, something he made clear was a
requirement from now on: my hands were to be clasped behind my back,
which was to be ramrod straight, my head was to be down and my eyes
should be pointed at the floor at my feet, which in turn were to be
together.
 
Standing like that pressed on me that sloppiness would not be tolerated
and to prove that he meant business, as if I needed any reminders of
that, he flicked one finger, grazing the pouch that held my damaged
genitals. The pain was outrageous and I promptly lost control of my
body. Landing on my side, the jolt of hitting the ground sending new
waves of pain and discomfort from the intruder in my ass up through my
body, I curled up in a ball, retching with pain. From above I heard
Daddy's calm voice: "Obey every time and obey perfectly every time. No
matter how painful it is for you. The price for disobedience will always
be higher than the price of obedience." Lying on the floor in
unbelievable pain I had already learned that lesson. "And when you obey,
no matter what I tell you to do, smile. No matter how much it hurts,
smile. No matter if it is the most degrading task in the whole world,
you must smile. Why you might ask?" Daddy smiled down on me: "Because I
gave you the order and that should make you the happiest little bitch in
the world, right Doll? Tell me." Trying my very best I managed a very
forced smile as I replied, my new high-pitched voice almost a whisper:
"Yes Daddy. I love obeying you Daddy, no matter how much it hurts."
 
Daddy then lifted me up and I was once again asked to provide a sexy
walk for him. This time I managed to do as ordered, swaying my ass
sexily as I could while smiling invitingly to the man who now controlled
me. Daddy had some corrections, which I immediately followed and soon I
was walking up and down the floor of the motel room, showing off my legs
and ass to Daddy's liking. He then began to make changes to the way I
held my hands and arms while walking and soon all my movements were very
sissified. To prove this to me, or rather to humiliate me as much as
possible, he produced a video camera and began recording me as I walked.
He also instructed me to talk to the camera and soon I was telling the
camera how much I loved to be fucked and punished by Daddy and how I
would always be his little bitch.
 
As he then connected the camcorder to the TV, I was made to kneel in
front of it. Of course with the bottle still in my ass I could not sit
back and rest, but then again this was never part of Daddy's plan. The
images on the screen were a huge shock to me. I looked and acted
absurdly, like the worst little sissified faggot possible. But I also
looked sexy. Oh so sexy.
 
Watching my own naked body, much of it adorned with the marks from
Daddy's belt, move in an exaggerated feminine way, seeing my face
painted with a smile desperately begging for Daddy's approval and
hearing myself speak in a high-pitched squeak I knew two things.
Firstly: A man who could make me behave like this, could and would hurt
me unbelievably and would make me do things I would otherwise never do.
Such a man would take over my life and most likely even own me in the
most literal sense of the word. Secondly I realized that I wanted him to
do just that more than anything else in the world. With that realization
my damaged cock tried to rise against the pouch, making me moan with
pain and passion and my ass involuntarily contracted against the
intruder lodged there. But to confess that to him would be extremely
dangerous. First of all it would mean speaking out of order and I
already knew that that would hurt - badly. Secondly giving myself up to
Daddy so soon could be taken as a signal for him to do his very worst to
me, something I had no doubt would be very, very painful, if also very
arousing. I decided against such a show of affection for the simple
reason that I had no doubt whatsoever that he would take whatever he
wanted from me, whenever he wanted it. A submissive shiver ran down my
spine with this realization; I was on the fast track to real slavery and
my opinion didn't really matter.
 
When we had seen the tape a few times, Daddy turned off the TV and told
me lean forward and rest my face against the floor, put my hands behind
my head and stick my ass up. Complying instantly I now rested on my face
and knees, with my ass sticking invitingly up and out. I had a good idea
of what was going to happen and I was not disappointed as I felt Daddy's
foot rest against my ass and his hand grasp the neck of the bottle.
There was no real way of preparing for the shock and distantly I could
hear myself screaming with pain as Daddy yanked the bottle out of my ass
with brutal force. Pain and a feeling of disconcerting emptiness filled
me along with the realization that I was probably going to bleed a lot
after this. I did, however, not have very long to think about this as
Daddy was upon me in flash. This time he rode me bareback, his legs
resting on either side of my body as he kept me on my knees while
screwing me with merciless force. With one hand he wrenched my head back
and while fucking me he spoke down into my face, telling me what a slut
I was and how he was going to enslave me in the most brutal manner
possible. I moaned and whimpered in time with his strokes, but in spite
of the pain my greatest regret was that my cock was inaccessible to his
attention.
 
By the time he was through fucking me it was late in the night and I was
completely exhausted from all the fucking and all the pain inflicted on
me. Daddy handed me a sanitary napkin to catch the blood and cum leaking
out of my damaged ass and a pair of very feminine black, silk panties.
Blushing I put them on and soon I lay in bed next to Daddy, falling
asleep with my arm draped across his chest.
 
Chapter 4
The next fourteen days proved to be some of the most demanding
days of my entire life. During the day I went to work as usual, but not
only did Daddy make sure that tiny silk panties were now my only kind of
underwear, but also I had to put a napkin in them for more than a week
before I stopped bleeding. Most distracting and annoying, however, was
the fact that my cock had been placed outside my control. As it healed
it itched something awful and the catheter necessitated that I sit down
every time I had to pee, but the worst part was my inability to touch
it, to masturbate. Before I had masturbated on average seven or eight
times a day and even when Daddy had denied me orgasms, I could just go
home and jerk off or if I needed it really badly, play with myself in a
public bathroom. As the pouch protected my cock while it healed it also
functioned as a chastity device. Consequently I spent a lot of time
squirming in my seat, involuntarily trying to rub my member against
anything with a little traction in the futile hope that I could perhaps
get off inside the pouch. Daddy spotted this behavior on day four and
the following day I had been cured of this behavior.
 
During the time I wore the pouch Daddy moved to take over ever greater
parts of my life. Getting fucked in my lunch break became the way things
were and every night after work I was with Daddy. But we no longer met
at the motel. Instead Daddy insisted that we get together at my
apartment.
 
Less than twenty-four hours after battering my cock and effectively
enslaving me I stood at attention in my own apartment, my naked body
beginning to show serious bruising from his ministrations. Not one to
waste time Daddy started me on a whole new way of life. Firstly he took
me to the bathroom where he had me shave my entire body, removing every
little hair below my eyebrows, taking extra care to make my legs and
scrotum smooth. He instructed me to shave my body twice a day; once in
the morning and once after work. Then he gave me a special crème to
soften my skin, a crème I was to use after each body shave. The crème
was odorless and in a very short time my skin became soft and feminine.
 
He then replaced all my boxers with silk panties of one description or
another. Most were miniscule to say the very least. Finally he gave me
my very first pair of heels; a pair of black pumps with five inch spike
heels. Seeing my concern at the height of the heels, Daddy calmly
declared that he saw no reason to be unambitious. I was going to wear
stilettos anyway, so why start with low, sensible heels? They did
nothing for Daddy and thus they did nothing for me. Nodding my head and
smiling eagerly I accepted the shoes and soon I was stumbling around in
my apartment to the abuse hurled at me from Daddy, scolding my
ineptitude. By the end of the evening my body had received a new layer
of markings from his belt and I was trying my best to smile through
tears of pain and humiliation, but my walk had improved a great deal.
The fact that I had blown Daddy three times during the course of the
evening and was in for three more furious fucks during the night was an
indication that he approved of my looks and behavior, a source of great
and secret pleasure for me as I sat at my desk the next day trying not
to move too much as it made my bruises hurt even worse.
 
With the daily lunch fucks and the extended training and fucking
sessions every evening I soon felt a desperate need that I was unable to
fulfill because of the pouch imprisoning my cock. Things only became
worse after day four when Daddy "cured" me of my squirming and by day
six I there wasn't a single moment during my entire day when I didn't
think of it.
 
That evening I dared speak out of order for the first time since the
pouch had been put on me. Upon getting home I had quickly changed into
the "clothes" he liked me to wear: the pouch and my new stilettos and
nothing else. Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing my naked,
hairless body, the skin of which was growing increasingly soft, my cock
stirred again and my resolve to bring the subject up strengthened. Soon
I heard the door open (Daddy of course had his own key to my apartment)
and I scampered into the hallway to greet him. I still had to think
about doing it, but my movements were already ridiculously feminine and
although I still needed practice I was already scampering along in my
new heels like the bitch I was fast becoming.
 
I did not, however, get a chance to speak when he entered. As I minced
towards him I rushed me, a look of pure, raw lust on his face. Handling
me as if I weighed nothing, he spun me around and pushed me to the
ground while pinning my arms in the small of my back. Even before he
entered me I was moaning. Being taken like that, looked at like that,
turned me on something awful and as he fucked me furiously there on the
floor of the hallway, twisting my arms painfully to demonstrate his
power even more clearly, I screamed with passion, shouting: "Oh yes
Daddy! Fuck me Daddy! Fuck me hard! Harder! Harder…" until my words were
just wordless babble. My cock pressed against its prison like never
before and my need was greater than ever.
 
When he withdrew I collapsed on the floor, covered in sweat and panting
with the exertion. As always a stream of Daddy's cum was making its way
down the inside of my thigh, a feeling I was learning to cherish -
strongly "encouraged" by Daddy. Obeying his command I got up and
followed him into my living room. Except it didn't feel like mine
anymore; it felt like I was a guest in my own home, here at Daddy's
mercy. He sat down in my couch with his member still hanging out of his
pants and said: "Well Doll, why haven't you cleaned up my cock after
soiling it with your shit? Speak to me Doll." I had sucked cock plenty
before, but I had never licked off the disgusting mixture of cum and
shit that covered his cock. However, I knew that disobedience would cost
me dearly and that if I was to have any hope of getting off anytime soon
I would have to clean that cock immediately. Besides, the prospect of
performing an act so demeaning as licking a dirty cock clean triggered
my submissive impulses. So doing my best to speak just like Daddy wanted
me to I answered: "I'm sorry Daddy. I'm just a dumb, sloppy slave-boi
and I need Daddy's firm hand to correct me all the time." As I sank to
my knees and approached his crotch I could see that my answer had
pleased him. This raised my hopes and soon I was licking his cock clean
with gusto, wallowing in my own humiliation and degradation. Of course
the cleaning soon turned into a regular blowjob and in keeping with my
instructions from Daddy, I tried to swallow all of his cum, nearly
succeeding.
 
Afterwards I brought Daddy a cold beer and sat at his feet, my head
resting against his legs. This was to be my default behavior unless
instructed otherwise. As always my silence was required I had to catch
Daddy's attention and have him ask me to speak. This was made even more
difficult by the fact that I had to rest my head on his leg and not look
up. For what seemed like an eternity I tried stroking him and patting
him in different places, obviously begging for attention. I am sure that
he knew right from the start that I wanted to say something, and I'm
pretty sure he could guess what that would be too, but he ignored me for
a long, long time until finally I heard his voice from above my head:
"Yes, Doll? Did you want to say something? Speak up, boi!" Finally!
Finally I could beg him to let me out of the pouch and let me cum. I had
been planning what to say the whole day, but now that I looked up at the
beautiful, powerful and brutal man who controlled me, my words became
jumbled and in my best broken bitch voice I stuttered: "Daddy, please,
Daddy. I…I…my cock…I need…please, I…please Daddy, can I please cum?
Please? Please Daddy? I…, please…" My words were cut short by his hand
closing around my throat, cutting off my words. With a look of contempt
on his face he stood up, lifting me up from the floor in the process
until my feet dangled a few inches off the ground. I could only just
breathe and my feet fought futilely for purchase, while I grasped his
arm. Whether this was an attempt to remove his hand from my throat or
merely an attempt by a slave boy to hold on to his Master, I don't know.
Either way Daddy carried me like that into the bedroom and threw me on
the floor. Still not speaking and completely ignoring my pleas and
apologies, he quickly tied me up. He crossed my arms behind my back and
pulled my hands very painfully around to my front. Here he tied a piece
of rope between them and then pulled them as close to each other as
possible. In this way he put considerable strain on both my hands and my
shoulders, but this was of no concern to him. My pleading had turned to
tears and crying I begged him to forgive me, promising to never speak
out of order again and to never ask for anything. He cut me short my
once again closing his hand around my throat and speaking in very
intense tones directly into my face: "Bitch, you will learn this once
and for all: you will only cum if and when I decide it. That pathetic
little things in your crotch is no longer yours, it belongs entirely to
me." My desperation increased at this. It might mean that he meant to
keep me in permanent chastity, a thing definitely did not want.
 
Now, however, was not the time to say that and instead it was time for
me to be punished. Trembling with fear I took up the position he ordered
me to assume: legs spread wide, squatting down slightly. As he took off
his belt I knew what was coming and involuntarily began begging for
mercy, something which only enraged Daddy further. In the end he had me
count out the blows and thank him after each one. After each blow had
landed in my crotch I had to thank him and ask for another: "Thank you
Daddy. May I please have another, Daddy?" It took me ever increasing
amounts of time to get my nerve up and ask and more and more time went
into screaming and pleading involuntarily. After fifteen blows from the
belt, each one hitting my already damaged and imprisoned genitals with
unbelievable force, I could no longer stand and sank to my knees in a
pool of my own vomit, forced from me by the pain, begging for him to
stop: "Please Daddy. Please stop Daddy. I can't take anymore. Please
Daddy, I'm sorry Daddy. I'll never disobey you again Daddy, I'll be good
always Daddy…"
 
But Daddy wasn't through with me, not by a long shot. First he hauled me
to my feet and gave me thirty-five more blows to the crotch. After each
blow my legs gave out and I ended up on the floor, curled up in pain as
I first retched, then tried begging for mercy. By the time he was
finished I was in a state of terror, involuntarily emitting small
screams of terror and pain. His next move certainly stopped my
screaming, but increased my fear well beyond panic and reduced me
effectively to the broken bitch that I am today.
 
He left me curled up for a short while as he fetched the next torture
item. It turned out to be a simple clear plastic bag. Without a word he
pulled it over my head and twisted it until he had a seal against my
neck, cutting off my air supply. Very soon I ran out of air inside the
plastic bag and began fighting against it. But I had no chance and soon
my legs were kicking ineffectually against the floor as my vision began
to fade. I was convinced that Daddy was killing me and distantly, right
before I fainted, I felt how my bowels gave way and I shit myself.
 
I came to coughing and retching in a state of absolute terror, but Daddy
didn't stop there. Without speaking a single word he pulled the plastic
bag down over my head again and soon I was again on my way to fainting,
convinced that he was killing me, inside the clear barrier separating me
from the air I needed to survive.
 
I have no idea how long he kept it up, but when he finished I couldn't
stop screaming. I was continuously emitting small high-pitched screams,
lost in panic. This Daddy cured with his final torture of the evening.
First he fused my thighs and my calves with straps, forcing me to kneel.
Then he plunged four needles into the pouch in my crotch, two sinking
into each testicle, and finally he connected these needles to an
electric generator with some wire. And in the move that stopped my small
panicked screaming and once again pushed me into full-throated and
desperate screaming, he sent electric current through my balls. As he
kept this up and I screamed in vain, I felt something snap inside me. I
was far too busy being in pain and screaming at the time to notice, but
I have since identified this as the point at which Daddy broke me. In
the months before I had always been a little afraid of him, fearing him
a little, but mostly lusting after his touch and his control. After that
day I am terrified of him, my fear of him being with me constantly,
absolutely terrified of disobeying him. I still lust after him like no
other man and I have met no one, can think of no one, I would rather
belong to. But I am also so scared of him that I am prone to loss of
bladder control if I think I have inadvertently disobeyed him.
 
Finally, well into the night I passed out, only to be woken up by water
splashing in my face. I looked up at my tormentor, the man who
controlled me completely and utterly and my look of silent and absolute
terror must have pleased him, because he smiled and took out his cock.
First he fucked my ass for good long while, pressing me down against the
tiles of the bathroom where he apparently carried me while I was
unconscious. Then he switched ends and finished by fucking my face so
brutally I thought that his cock was going to pound out my teeth. After
finally shooting his load, and holding his cock down my throat until I
twitched and jerked with panic, he shoved a piece of plastic tubing into
my mouth and made sure it stayed there using a bit of tape. Then he
sealed my head inside a plastic bag, securing it at the neck with tape.
My only contact with the air outside was through the plastic tube, the
diameter of which was so small that my breath came in labored wheezes.
Finally he tied my neck to the steel drain pipe under the sink and left
me there for the night.
 
My calves were still fused to my thighs so it was impossible for me to
find rest in any position I could assume on the floor. Besides, my
labored breathing insured that I stayed in a state of near panic the
whole night through. In the morning Daddy used the toilet before he used
me. He untied my legs, making me cry with relief and pain as blood
flowed back into them, lifted me up and deposited me in the shower, my
hands still tied, stilettos still on and the plastic bags still sealing
my head in. As he showered he lifted me up and impaled me on his cock,
fucking me ruthlessly as water poured down over me. Just before he came,
he ripped the plastic bag off my head and the tube out of my mouth and
kissed me long and deep, claiming absolute dominion over me. After
cuming he released my hands, sparking a new round of crying as feeling
returned to them, and then he left me without a word.
 
Chapter 5
That day at work I was an absolute wreck, fumbling everything,
unable to think and unable to make sensible conversation. On one hand I
was terrified at what Daddy had done to me, so terrified in fact that
telling anyone, especially the police, made me weak with fear. On the
other hand I felt like I had found myself, that I could be sure,
finally, that Daddy was the one, the Master who would control me,
dominate me, beat me and fuck me, perhaps for the rest of my active
sexual life. That Daddy was the one who would rule over me.
 
Ever since the first real beating he had administered at the motel I had
known that I didn't simply have a thing for older men in control, but
rather that I was truly submissive. The realization had come in bursts;
each new rule Daddy had enforced on me had uncovered new submissive
depths in me, until finally the night before I had found out just how
submissive I really was: How I would accept, even love, being held in
forced chastity as long as it was Daddy who controlled my orgasms or
lack of same. How I cherished being brutally punished as long as it
increased Daddy's control over me and how I would wallow in any
humiliation and degradation as long as Daddy commanded it of me.
 
I saw how my job at the bank, my apartment and my nice suits were all
just a sham. Daddy had found the real me, the boi-bitch begging to be
used and abused. Realizing this I also realized that this other life,
the life as analyst the bank, the respectable life, could end very, very
soon only to be replaced by the life of the 24/7 slave boy, the life of
the sissified punishment doll.
 
The realization was sharp and acute, but there was nothing I could do
about it. Of course I could try to make a run for it and abandon the
slave life I was being forced into, but that wasn't really an option. I
knew that I wanted this, even if I was equally sure that I'd be very,
very sorry that I'd chosen this path. I was absolutely sure that Daddy
would make me pay dearly for the decision to stick with him. So for now
there was nothing I could do other than wait for Daddy's next move.
 
At lunch time Daddy fucked me just as brutally as ever and that night I
performed everything exactly as Daddy had ordered me to and Daddy in
turn treated me just the way he had before - like his little slave boi.
Going down on him, feeling him enter me and obeying his every command
made me feel deeply satisfied. I could stop thinking about anything but
pleasing and obeying Daddy, my head emptying of worries (other than the
question of whether I was ever going to allowed to cum again) and
concerns.
 
This went on until it was time to remove the protective pouch around my
genitals. From my cock's incessant stirring I knew that it worked, but I
was very nervous as to what state it was in, how it looked. It was
entirely possible that Daddy's beating and torture had scarred it or
damaged it otherwise.
 
Before removing the pouch Daddy first tied me spread-eagle on the bed,
which was covered by a black rubber sheet. I was naked except for my
stilettos and the pouch and Daddy put a real effort into stretching me
as much as he could. As a result I was moaning with discomfort when he
had finished tying me up. My hands and feet were already turning an
unhealthy shade of blue and my arms and legs felt like they were being
pulled out of their sockets.
 
Then Daddy unlocked the pouch and peeled it back, exposing my cock to
the world outside the hateful pouch for the first time in two weeks. As
cool air touched my member again I whimpered with need, a sound that was
soon replaced with a pitiful moaning as Daddy pulled the catheter out of
my cock, a very unpleasant feeling. Using a rag he wiped the
disinfectant gel off my member, making me hard in an instant, now
whining pathetically with need. When all the gel was gone, he took my
cock in his hand and inspected it. It took a monumental effort on my
part to not beg and plead to be allowed to cum, but somehow I managed
while doing involuntary little thrusts with my hips, trying to get some
traction against his hand. This was of course futile as his grip was far
too loose for me to succeed.
 
His inspection thorough and not surprisingly it revealed that my
genitals had some healing wounds left, but that they above all were
quite badly bruised. Both my cock and my balls had large bluish
blemishes, some turning yellow, but many quite fresh. After the initial
inspection Daddy fetched a bowl of soapy water and washed my genitals
thoroughly, making me keen with acute need as my erection now throbbed
and the jerking of my hips had moved completely beyond my control. The
washing over Daddy used a hairdryer to dry every part of my crotch
thoroughly and only then did he speak to me: "Because of your
disobedient behavior, the pathetic thing between your legs will need to
spend at least another four weeks in the pouch." I would have cried out
and objected forcefully, this was twice as long as before, had it not
been for the look on his face. He was clearly challenging me to do just
that, to put myself in a position where he would have to inflict even
greater damage on my crotch. Instead I lowered my eyes and once again
whimpered, this time in defeat.
 
Soon the catheter had been reinserted and my genitals were once again
locked away inside the pouch, inaccessible to me, now an even greater
source of frustration. Only when the pouch had been locked on did he
untie me and once again I was left with the pain of blood returning to
numb limbs. Instructed by Daddy I then knelt on the bed beside him, my
head down and my hands clasped behind my back.
 
That he was about to fuck me was no surprise, but before we went at it
he had a new standing order for me regarding my behavior when being
screwed. That I loved being fucked by him was nothing new and I usually
moaned with passion when he did me, no matter if I was allowed to cum or
not. Now, however, I was to take it to the next level. Whenever I was
being fucked by Daddy I was to behave as if it was the best fuck I had
ever had; I was to scream out how good he was, how much I loved being
fucked by him, how I wanted him to fuck me until I bled, how he should
take me as hard possible and finally I was to "have an orgasm" whenever
he came, regardless of whether I was having one myself.
 
This was bad news for me and I recognized it instantly. Not that I
didn't want to scream all those things as Daddy fucked me. I'd love to.
No, the bad news was the fact that this most likely meant that I'd be
having very few, if any, orgasms while Daddy fucked me. Why else would
he ask me to fake orgasms whenever he came? And why else would he
instruct me in this now, when I had just been fitted anew with what was
effectively a chastity device, no matter what Daddy might call it? No
matter what I might feel about these new instructions, however, there
was nothing I could do about them. Now, more than ever before, I was
merely an owned bitch, Daddy's plaything. I might hate that role or love
it, and for now I really did love it, but escape would be very hard
indeed. I would have to play along and assume the role of docile, yet
supremely excitable fuck-pet.
 
Proving that I understood my responsibility, I now mounted Daddy's cock,
taking it all in and sliding down that wonderful pole. Daddy lay on his
back; hands folded behind his head and let me do all the work. Placing a
stilettoed foot on either side of him I squatted down over his cock,
naked and chastized, feeling his monster dick moving into me. First I
closed my eyes and moaned at him: "Oh, yes Daddy! You are so big, so
good Daddy. Please fuck your little slut, screw my brains out!" I
caressed my upper body, fingers lingering at my nipples, while I moaned
and threw my head back. Then I began bouncing up and down his pole
shouting: "Yes Daddy! Oh, yes! Fuck me! Pound me! Screw until I hurt,
until I bleed! Fuck me! Fuck me, please! Oh, Daddy!" I went on like
this, the volume of and content of my cries becoming ever louder as he
moved, slowly, towards his orgasm. Not that Daddy ever came quickly, but
this time he drew out his orgasm for a long, long time, letting me work
like mad. When he finally came, streams of sweat ran down my naked and
owned body, my thighs were burning with exertion and my voice had grown
hoarse from screaming how much I loved Daddy. He grabbed my hips very
firmly, instructing me to keep my hands behind my head. Then he plunged
his monster tool all the way in until our pelvises were grinding against
each other. Then he tilted me slightly forward until the pouch
containing my imprisoned genitals became trapped between our bodies.
Then, as he came, he began grinding them until my screams, which had
until then been enthusiastic and happy like I had been ordered, turned
to desperation. The pain was unbearable, but the feeling of sheer and
utter loss of control, the feeling of being lost, trapped,
outmaneuvered, was unbelievable and once again I cried out how much I
loved Daddy.
 
Each time I thought I could sink no deeper, he took me further down.
Every step of the way Daddy was there to exploit my inherent
submissiveness and plunge me deeper into slavery; be it with pain or
humiliation, it didn't really matter. I was beginning to realize that
this would not end with a happy and normal life for Tom the banker; an
uneventful life with a nice retirement package. Rather I was being
pushed, with myself doing a considerable amount of the pushing, into a
lifetime of slavery. I would have little or no control over that life
and I was fairly certain it did not end with me sipping red wine in the
sunset in my golden years. As I lay next to Daddy after having licked
his cock clean, cupping my throbbing genitals, I realized that the life
as a slave would probably end either as some kind of owned whore,
providing blowjobs to men in dirty alleyways and giving most of the
money to a cruel pimp. That is I was lucky. Most likely I would end up
being fucked to death, either by Daddy or someone else.
 
Needless to say the prospect scared my shitless and I wanted to ask
Daddy; ask him for assurance that he would never allow something like
that to happen to me. But then something strange happened. I thought of
what would happen if Daddy said that he eventually wanted to strangle me
or fuck me to death. Would I run if he said so? I would have to think
very hard about it at the very least, since it was the only sensible
option. But then I'd have to leave Daddy, I'd have to do without his
punishment, his control. His monster cock pounding me. That thought made
me even more desperate and to my own surprise I found that I'd rather
not know what Daddy planned on doing to me, no matter how gruesome it
might be, as long as he'd let me be his slave. I'd rather live in
assumed ignorance, willfully ignoring the logical outcome of my
position, than risk being without an owner as brutal and demanding as
Daddy. Belonging to him meant more to than my own safety! A shiver ran
down my spine at this realization and once again my imprisoned member
rebelled against its prison to no avail.
 
Chapter 6
The next day my life as property resumed; an existence that
was growing increasingly grotesque to me. At work I'd do what I'd always
done, or at least try to, but not only was my constant unfulfilled need
always with me, ruining my concentration; I was beginning to see my work
at the bank as increasingly pointless. Why was I doing this if I thought
that Daddy was going to take me even further into slavery? I asked Daddy
the question one night after having been given permission to speak after
about two hours of signaling to him that I had something to say.
Standing at attention next to the couch where he sat watching football,
I saw him turn his head slowly towards me and take me in with his eyes.
He sized me up for a while, then gently grasped my trapped genitals and
spoke: "First of all a little bimbo like you shouldn't ask questions. At
all." He squeezed my balls a little too hard for it to be playful before
continuing: "You don't have the brains to understand what is good for
you or why it is good for you, so should just accept that for now I want
you working at the bank, doing your very best, making as much money as
possible. Daddy might need a new pair of shoes." With that he increased
the pressure until I screamed and collapsed on the floor, realizing that
there would be no point in wondering. Daddy would do to me as he pleased
no matter what I thought about it.
 
After putting the pouch on me for the second time Daddy began taking me
out at night. He'd dress me up as his boi-bitch and show me off at
fetish parties and special gay bars that catered to people like Daddy.
 
The first time he threw some clothes at me and told me to get dressed at
once. The pants were a pair of jeans so tight I was actually crying when
they were finally on, practically painted to my skin. I had real trouble
walking in them and bending down was almost impossible. Almost. Daddy's
motivational look made me bend down with a big smile on my face, while I
felt like screaming because of the pressure this put on my balls and
abdomen. The shoes belonging to the outfit were a pair of red five-inch
fuck-me pumps and the top was a white tank top with the word "Bimbo"
written in pink letters on the front. The word made me acutely
embarrassed, something that could be instantly felt in my crotch. For
outerwear Daddy gave me a very short and stylish black leather jacket
and when I walked with him to his car, his arm possessively around my
waist, I thought that I probably looked just like any little bimbo
girlfriend might. I might have an Adams apple (mine had never been very
prominent) and no tits, but in that outfit and with my swaying walk I
looked just like a silly little oversexed bitch.
 
He took me to a bar, a member's only place, where masters like Daddy
paraded their slaves around to each other. All in all I was probably the
one looking least like a slave at the place. Many were in tiny leather
outfit, following their masters around on a leash. Some were more or
less sealed inside super tight rubber outfits and looked to be the
harshest kept slaves in the room. A significant minority were feminized
like me, although the degree of feminization varied from what I was
wearing and how I behaved to bitches that were completely feminized,
complete with huge tits, altered voices and Adams apples that had been
removed.
 
The whole evening I behaved just like Daddy had ordered me to, clinging
to him, my eyes demurely down and not speaking unless Daddy specifically
told me to. This was not hard; in fact it was by far the easiest course
of action to take. I was completely intimidated by the many very
dominant men around and their slaves, some of them impossibly severely
held and many so sexy I had trouble keeping my eyes off them.
 
At one point Daddy stood at the bar, me clinging to his side, talking to
a very handsome black master. While I was very attracted to the master,
it was his slave I could not look away from. His slave was a small,
lithe young man, whose skin color I could not determine, simply because
there was none of it exposed. Similarly I could not see what color his
eyes were, since they were covered too. He wore a full body suit,
complete with integrated hood which had no holes for his eyes, made
entirely of red rubber. All his bindings were made of black leather: his
armbinder, his corset, his neck corset, his brutally restrictive
stiletto boots and all the straps going around his body. Only his gag
was not made of leather, but rather of rubber. I was fascinated by this
complete enclosure and although my mind was unsure whether I wanted to
try it, my cock told me otherwise. At some point during the conversation
between Daddy and the other master, the other man took out what looked
like a remote control. Pressing a button on it his slave suddenly began
first trembling quite badly, then twisting and jerking until he finally
convulsed and fell down, his legs kicking spasmodically. At no time did
he emit any sound. His head was held in the exact same position through
the whole thing and Daddy later explained that his gag extended all the
way down his throat, pressing against his vocal cords and preventing him
from screaming.
 
The display made Daddy and the other master horny and the other one
suggested that they swap slaves. Daddy smiled evilly down at me and
turned to the other man and said: "Good idea, but I don't want to cheat
you. The holes of my boi-bitch here are for me only. I won't allow
another cock in either of his holes." The black master laughed out loud
at this and answered: "Fine by me, since I don't want to cheat you
either. I feel the same way about my boi, but my solution is to line his
holes with rubber. You can't use his mouth since the gag is not due to
be removed for another three days, but you can fuck his rubber-lined
asshole. I assume that your boi knows how to use his hands?" Daddy threw
his head back and laughed. Then he extended his hand and said: "We think
alike. I'm John." The other man shook it, saying: "Indeed we do. I'm
Darren." With that all doubt as to what Master Darren and Daddy would be
doing for the rest of the evening disappeared.
 
About an hour later I was once again naked except for my chastity pouch
and my stilettos and once again I was screaming and crying, my body
covered with angry red welts from Master Darren's whip. On my knees
crying and begging I held his cock in my hands, trying to give the best
handjob ever to avoid further punishment. Apart from masturbating (how I
longed to be able to do that again) I had no experience in pleasing a
man with my hands. As a result my efforts were clumsy and slow. Looking
up with pleading eyes I could see how Master Darren grew ever more
impatient, while I inexpertly handled his massive rod. Finally he came,
spraying my face with his juice. However, it was quite clear that my
efforts had made him angry rather than pleased and soon afterwards I was
suspended from the ceiling by my wrists, my legs tied wide. Daddy had
finished punishing and fucking Master Darren's slave, known only as
"hole", and had joined us. So had a whole crowd of other masters and
their slaves. We had been in a private dungeon at the back of the bar,
but Master Darren and Daddy had decided to open the doors so that as
many as possible could join the fun. The rules turned out to simple: any
master could participate, as long as he didn't fuck my holes or mark my
face or hands. Other than that, there were no rules.
 
In the early hours of the morning, when Daddy carried me to his truck, I
was a complete wreck. At Daddy's request my genitals had been left
alone, but only after the first three masters had pummeled them
mercilessly. It felt like they had grown to twice their normal size, but
since the pouch did not expand, this only increased pressure on them. My
body was now a huge collection of markings, many of them bleeding a
little, and my ass was stuffed with a monster of a blow-up buttplug,
which Daddy had purposefully not removed. I was convinced that I'd never
recover, that I'd been hurt too badly. This did, however, not prevent
Daddy from insisting that I blow him the car on the way home to my
place. Here he washed my body, cleaning the wounds and finally, making
me cry with gratitude, he removed the plug in my ass. Then he rubbed my
body in a disinfectant gel and told me to put on the suit he held out to
me. It was a full body rubber suit made from shiny white rubber and it
fit me so well that he must have had it made especially for me. My head,
hands and feet were free and there were holes for my imprisoned genitals
and for access to my ass. There was no zipper, so entry was via the hole
in the neck. For me to slip inside Daddy had to pull the neck opening
wide and once I was inside, I'd need his help to get out unless I wanted
to cut it off me. Since the very thought of destroying something Daddy
had given me made me weak with fear, this was clearly out of the
question. When Daddy had finished slipping me into the suit, it was
morning and although I needed to rest very badly and tried signaling
this to Daddy by my posture, he would have none of it. Soon I was
dressed for work, already dead tired and already sweating like a pig
under my suit. The only good thing about the rubber suit was that at
least my sweat didn't bleed through my ordinary clothes.
 
That day was the longest I had ever tried, or at least it felt like
that. Unable to focus because of the exhaustion and the pain, I fumbled
along all morning, until it became lunchtime and time to get fucked by
Daddy. He especially brutal that day, showering me with abuse as he
pounded my ass so hard my teeth shook. Then I had to go back to work,
again fumbling along almost in the dark. When it was time to go home to
Daddy I was ready cry from exhaustion and pain and all I wanted to do
was to lie down and sleep.
 
That night Daddy instructed me in how to provide proper handjobs, a
lesson I only stayed conscious for because of the acute fear of what
would happen if I failed Daddy again. Finally he fucked me while in bed,
or rather I did my bouncing and screaming with joy routine and he let me
sleep, this time at the foot of the bed, where he used me to prop up his
feet. I didn't mind, loving his degrading treatment, but also I hardly
noticed, I was so tired I just fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about
huge cocks ravaging my rubber bound body.
 
The next day I showered in the rubber suit and went to work still
wearing it. Daddy had said nothing about me getting out of it and asking
about it was right out. Having rested a bit (although my body was very
stiff and sore) I was able to do my work better, something my colleagues
remarked upon. This made me realize just how much I had embarrassed
myself the day before, stumbling around in haze of pain and lack of
sleep. Being better rested also did wonders for my libido, as did the
acute humiliation of wearing a rubber suit to work, even if the others
couldn't see I was wearing it. The day was spent trying not to squirm
from horniness and itching welts on my punished body.
 
In all Daddy kept me in the rubber suit for four days and when he took
it off me, he carried me into the shower. Here he had installed a bar to
which he tied my wrists so that my feet dangled a few inches off the
floor. He then washed me before entering me from the front. Feeling him
inside me made me squeal with real delight and I wrapped my legs around
him and savored his presence, even when our pelvises grinding together
meant that my trapped genitals were being squashed. As always I shouted
out how much I loved him and how I wanted him to screw me until I bled,
meaning every word of what I said. I was unable to cum, but the enforced
chastity had merely served to heighten my lust and making my whole body
a highly excitable erogenous zone. His every touch made me more and more
horny, but of course I was unable to cum, so the whole thing merely made
me more excitable, further fuelling my frustration and my dependence on
Daddy. Just as he wanted it.
 
The next event he took me to was a party, a fetish event. His outfit was
so simple and sexy that I nearly begged him to fuck me when I saw him:
Black leather pants and a black leather jacket covering his bare upper
body. Black boots on his feet and nothing else. When you radiate power
as much as Daddy does, you only need a few things to emphasize it; black
leather being perfect. My outfit was equally simple, but did of course
it did not radiate power. It exposed my as the owned bitch I was. I
again wore a full-body rubber suit, only this time it was transparent
and thus showed the world my welts and markings from the punishments I
had received. To make sure that no one missed that point, Daddy had
whipped me the day before. On my feet were black boots, ankle high, with
six-inch heels and around my neck a broad, black leather collar had been
locked. To this my hands, which had not only been cuffed but also sealed
inside leather mittens, had been secured with padlock. This forced me to
walk around with my hands up under my chin, yet my elbows had to stick
out to the side so that my upper body would be exposed as per Daddy's
orders. This was hard enough, but to do at a function where every other
person was a master or mistress that you definitely did not want too
bump with your elbow, required my undivided attention. Daddy had
completed my outfit by gagging me with a truly fiendish penis-gag, which
extended so far down my throat that I was near panic, trying desperately
not to throw up, when it was first inserted. Now it was nearly another
source of discomfort as Daddy had made sure to also pack my ass with
very challenging buttplug. Not only was it large, but it also vibrated
quite powerfully so that it required no small amount of concentration to
keep it inside me.
 
When we arrived at the event, which was huge, occupying a whole
convention center, Daddy secured one end of a leash around my scrotum
and the other end to his belt. Then he simply walked through the gates
and joined the party, leaving me no other choice but to follow as best I
could.
 
Since the event was held at a public place there was a rule forbidding
nudity, at least formally. Had it not been for the pouch we would not
have gotten in at all, since the transparent suit exposed my body almost
completely. As the guards debated among themselves what to do, Daddy had
made his position abundantly clear right from the start, we stood
waiting for several minutes, the line behind us growing by the minute,
exposed for all to see. I say we, but although many looked enviously at
Daddy, most looked at my almost naked body, so obviously owned and
punished. I wanted to run and hide, but of course that was not an
option. Instead I stood completely still as close to Daddy as possible,
feeling all those eyes on my body.
 
As we stood there waiting a familiar voice spoke next to us: "John, I
see that you took my advice and claimed the little bitch." Although not
strictly allowed I turned a little and saw a face I knew. It belonged to
Mistress Rowena, one of the secretaries at the bank, small a woman in
her late forties, very good-looking, but a little quiet. Now she looked
neither very quiet nor like a secretary. She wore a full body suit made
of black leather, studs and spikes everywhere and on her feet were shiny
stiletto boots, heels of seven inches or more. In her leather clad hand
she held a leash and at the other end was a very young man, no more that
eighteen, perhaps as young as sixteen. His hands were folded up between
in shoulder blades and held there with numerous straps encircling his
body. His ass was covered with black leather shorts so tight that his
chastity device was clearly outlined underneath. The leash was secured
to his collar and on his feet were black stilettos, with modest
four-inch heels. He was gagged with a huge, red ball-gag and he looked
very scared and very humiliated.
 
Mistress Rowena didn't care as she talked to Daddy, revealing that she
had been the one pointing Daddy in my direction: "I knew you'd like the
little boi after your last slave. And this little bitch," she nodded in
my direction, "probably didn't even know that he was submissive, right?"
Daddy laughed at me and agreed, thanking her for the heads-up. Then he
asked about her slave: "I don't remember seeing your toy before. Wasn't
your husband your pet the last time we met?" Mistress Rowena grunted at
the mention of her husband and answered: "True, that shit was my slave
the last time we met, but I grew so very tired of that useless, little
shit that I simply had to get rid of him." Daddy made a sympathetic
sound here and she continued: "After I castrated him all the fun went
out of him, crying all the time, so depressed that I'd have to punish
him just for that. Hell, I like punishing them for practically nothing,
just to hear them scream, but it's simply no fun when they are crying
before you begin." Daddy agreed with her and asked what she had done
with him then? "Sold him to Antwan. He can always use such shits and
he's a real good guy. He even invited me to see what he had done to him.
Turns out that he cut the shits arms off and that he now uses him as a
mobile urinal or blowjob-provider at one of his clubs. The shit is now
ball-less and armless, sealed in rubber, prancing around Antwan's club
using his mouth for whatever he's told. And I saw that that included
several people in a row taking a dump in his mouth. I'm quite sure that
he preferred even my ministrations to his current situation." This made
both of them laugh out loud, something that only stopped when the guards
decided to let us in despite my outfit. Mistress Rowena and her slave
were let in along with us but although she had clearly cut into the
line, no one felt like challenging her. Many of the ones behind us in
line were clearly shocked at what they heard, coming from much more
vanilla-like relationships.
 
Inside Daddy and Mistress Rowena continued their talk: "So who's
sweet-cheeks here?" Daddy asked her. "That pathetic little shit is my
son, who only last week assumed his father's responsibilities." I
started at this, but now that I looked I saw a clear family resemblance
between the leather-clad mom and the terrified slave son. "He's a
useless little creep, that one, not like his sisters who have already
had several slaves among them of both sexes. Why he turned nineteen two
weeks ago and he's still living at home and he still hadn't been laid,
hadn't taken some cheerleader and screwed her till she screamed."
Mistress Rowena looked darkly at the boy who cringed beneath her stare.
"So I decided that since he was going nowhere, I might as well be the
one benefiting. I jumped him late at night and tied him up. Then I
dragged him down into the dungeon. The creep didn't even know that we
had one or that his Daddy had not simply walked away, that I'd kept him
there for years. Can you imagine that? How stupid can you get? It's
better that he be enslaved sooner rather than later." Daddy agreed with
a grunt while I stood and stared at her slave, terrified. "So with his
sisters watching to learn a few tricks, I first whipped the shit out of
him before mounting him with Old Faithful here." She slapped something
hanging from her belt. It was a strap-on dildo, a huge black thing with
knobs, ridges and even metal studs in some places. It was even bigger
than Daddy's tool and just looking at it made me tremble with fear.
 
When she had finished her story Daddy asked a question: "It sounds like
you've given him what he deserved, but what are you doing here tonight?"
Mistress Rowena smiled at that and said: "See, that's where I was hoping
you could help me." Daddy cocked an eyebrow in interest and she
continued: "To break him properly he needs to service a man too, both
with his mouth and his ass and to do it properly, it needs to be done in
public. Now I know that there's no nudity in the front halls, but I'm
pretty sure that the hard-core stuff will be going down in the back and
I'm also sure that it'll be no holds barred. So I was thinking that
maybe you'd like to help me break in the little creep? I'm sure I could
keep your boi occupied in the meantime. I know you don't allow other
cock inside him, but Old Faithful isn't a real cock." She finished and
looked up at Daddy expectantly. He only contemplated for a second before
answering: "Hell Rowena, you evil old gal, you know I can't refuse you.
Let's go find a place to screw these two creeps."
 
Mistress Rowena had been absolutely right. After crossing the center,
passing a vast range of dominant/submissive pairs, ranging from the ones
barely past the mild spanking stage to a few who had performed serious
body modification on their slaves. Some were feminized, whereas others
had been turned into ponies or dogs. My eyes were caught on one dominant
couple in particular who looked to be in their early fifties, a huge
white man in a black leather suit accompanied by his absolutely
beautiful, black shemale partner, in a black leather dress, which was so
short and tight that it clearly showed how well-endowed she was.
 
Right behind them came their two slaves, both of them shemales with
extremely severe chastity devices holding their genitals and both
without arms. Behind shemale mistress, who had aged very, very well
indeed, walked a shemale with white skin, almost no waist and huge tits.
Her corset, her hood and her boots were made of red leather and her
boots were of the ballet kind, only without the heel. The straps holding
her were made of steel and her eyes were covered by a special kind of
lens, which clearly only allowed a very distorted image of the world to
slip through. Her mistress looked to be in her early fifties and her
slave looked as if she had been hers for a long, long time.
 
The slave walking behind the master looked like a strange mirror image
of the other. She had been shaped in exactly the same way, only her skin
was a beautiful brown color and her corset, hood and boots were made
from white leather. Although I couldn't be sure, her skin looked a
little younger than that of the other three, but it was quite clear that
she too had been a slave for a long, long time.
 
There were no leashes or other strings connecting the slaves to the
master/mistress couple and yet they followed in perfect mincing lockstep
two steps behind them, turning when their owners did and stopping when
they did too.
 
I would have loved it if Daddy had stopped and gotten their story, but
he and Mistress Rowena were headed for the back along with a great
number of the other pairs. The ones headed towards the back clearly
tended to the more extreme couples and I began to get very nervous and
very excited about what was going to happen. Feeling Mistress Rowena's
strap-on inside was going to hurt like hell, but I knew that deep down
inside I was going to love it.
 
Daddy and Mistress Rowena soon found what they were looking for; a
spacious back room that was already being used for some quite extreme
displays. At the door were a couple of bouncers, both of whom looked at
me as if they'd like to take so hard that I bled, making sure that only
the most extreme passed. This was clearly not Vanillaville.
 
Inside were several smaller enclosures where some pretty severe
punishments were already under way. Daddy and Mistress Rowena stopped at
one and Daddy pushed me to the front so that he was sure I could see
what went on. He laid his hand possessively on my ass and whispered: "I
bet you'd love for me to do this to you, right?" I looked forward and
became completely hypnotized by what went on. The scene was simple. On a
table with its side to the crowd for maximum display, a slave-boi had
been tied down. He was kneeling, straps around his knees and ankles
securing him to the tabletop, legs spread wide. His neck was similarly
strapped to the table, so that his ass stuck high up in the air. His
arms were tied together at the wrists and elbows and a rope coming down
from the ceiling made sure that they pointed straight up in the air. He
was completely naked, his skin an absolutely beautiful shape of dark
brown, soft and hairless. His body was completely unmarked, pristine and
he had a powerful erection even if he looked very, very nervous, wide
brown eyes staring at his owner.
 
His owner was a not very big, but very stylish and handsome looking
gentleman with beautiful brown skin. He wore an impeccable black suit,
complete with a shiny white shirt and a bowtie. He looked strangely out
of place, elegant and refined like he was on his way to a high society
dinner or the opera, but only until you took a closer look at him. His
spotless suit was made entirely of rubber and the elegant gloves he was
putting on were also rubber. He bent down to his slave and asked: "Are
you ready, my pretty?" The slave swallowed hard and said in a half
strangled, but quite clear voice: "Master, yes Master." The elegant
master asked again: "Do you want me to do this?" "Master, yes Master,"
the slave answered, "this useless slave boi will do anything for you.
Anything at all." With that the master patted his head and turned his
attention to the slave's ass and crotch. He let his rubber covered hand
slide down over the slave's butt and said, musingly: "We'd better
relieve any dangerous pressure, don't you think?" At this the slave
thanked his master profusely, almost crying. The master's hand slid down
and into the slave's crotch, gently grasping the rock hard cock there,
making the slave thank him even more profusely. In what looked like
three, quick strokes he carried his property over the edge, making him
scream with delight as his cum pumped out in a staggering amount. His
body convulsed as he came and the table would have shaken, had it not
been bolted to the floor.
 
While I thought the whole scene very sexy and longed very much for Daddy
to touch me that way again, I was also strangely disappointed. In spite
of the rubber suit of the master and the fact that the slave was tied
down, it all seemed a little soft to be honest. I had expected something
harsher I realized, surprising myself more than a little. This was a
feeling I was soon to regret.
 
While his slave thanked him for the orgasm, the master now rolled up a
small table next to his slave. It was made of shiny steel and what lay
on top of it was far from soft. It was filled with surgical instruments
and as I began to understand what was going to happen. First, however,
the master carefully washed the slave's genitals. First came water and
the he used alcohol to finish up. Then he produced a huge ice-pack,
which he held on the slave's balls until the slave's teeth were
chattering with cold. Removing the ice-pack, he took out a spray can and
sprayed the slave's balls with something that was obviously even colder
than the ice and it looked like his balls had shriveled down to their
smallest possible size. The master then picked up a scalpel and without
any hesitation at all, grabbed the slave's scrotum and sliced it open in
two places, deftly squeezing out the slave's testicles. The slave may
have been somewhat numb from the cold, there was certainly surprisingly
little blood, but he clearly felt what was going on. He keened with fear
and pain as his owner castrated him, quickly cutting away the balls
before moving on and cutting away the excess skin left over. Then he
cleaned the wound and sowed it up to the sound of his slave crying
softly. His work looked very professional and it occurred to me that
this was probably not a first for him. As if reading my mind Daddy
leaned in and whispered in my ear: "Rob's boys always give up their
balls gladly, thinking that they are going to be his property forever,
his special little pet. But I've seen Rob remove the balls of nine
slaves now and he never keeps them for more than a year or two at the
most before moving on." I started in horror at this and involuntarily
looked over my shoulder into Daddy's face. I'm sure I must have looked
absolutely terrified as he continued, holding my eyes with his intense
gaze: "Rob makes the most wonderful movies when he "retires" a slave,
believe me. All his slaves go out the hard way. In the last one I saw,
he ended up impaling the poor, little shit. Great movie!"
 
Then Daddy tugged my leash and led me away from the scene, where Master
Rob was inserting a very large slave ring in his castrated slave's
scrotum. I was so scared that had I not been plugged and cock not sealed
with the catheter, I would have soiled myself. Catching the smell and
hearing the swearing, I noticed that Mistress Rowena's son had done so,
much to his mother/mistress' displeasure.
 
We arrived at an available enclosure where I realized that whatever
Daddy and Mistress Rowena did to us, we'd be exposed to the rest of the
world and as we occupied it a small crowd began to gather, curious as to
what was about to happen. Daddy first took care of Mistress Rowena's
son/slave, while she watched. I was parked in the corner, standing at
attention, following every little move they made. The breaking on of the
slave boy was probably pretty mundane compared to what Master Rob had
just done, but it was still very, very hot - except of course for
Mistress Rowena's son. First Daddy removed the boy's shorts while
telling him that when Daddy removed his gag, he'd beg to be fucked as
hard as possible and beg to be allowed to suck his cock, swallow his
cum. The boy looked at Daddy with wide, terrified eyes, clearly
believing what he was being told.
 
Before making him beg, however, Daddy first had to clean up the shit on
the poor guy's ass. Watching Master Rob castrate his slave had made him
shit his pants and Daddy was none too pleased that he was the one who
had to wash it away. This could be seen clearly in the way he leaned
into the blows when he took his belt to the slave. In minutes the slave
was crying and pleading behind his gag as he futilely tried to dance
away from the blows. This only made Daddy madder and he grabbed him by
the throat, lifting him up from the ground as he choked him and informed
him that everything would be much worse if he didn't stand still.
Understanding that he had lost, the slave boy stood still during the
last part of the punishment and even managed to stand still as Daddy
whipped his imprisoned balls.
 
When Daddy removed his gag he cried as he begged him to fuck him, to be
allowed to blow him. Graciously Daddy agreed and it was not without envy
that I watched as Daddy took the slave from behind, really leaning into
it, making the strokes so hard they shook the owned boy. After a good
long fuck, he pulled out and deposited the slave on his knees and made
him beg for it before he was allowed to clean and then blow Daddy. The
look on Mistress Rowena's son's face as he swallowed what he could
manage of Daddy's load told the whole world that the experience had
broken him. His mother would have no trouble ordering him around after
this.
 
As Daddy put his cock back in his pants and regagged the crying slave
boy, Mistress Rowena turned her attention to me. Without me noticing (I
had been too absorbed watching her son getting fucked) she had strapped
Old Faithful on and as it protruded from her crotch it looked even more
frightening than it had done on her hip. I knew I was going to take it,
I'd have to, but I also knew that it'd be immensely painful. Also I had
no idea what she'd use to warm me up and this might prove to be the
worst part of the ordeal. Already I was so horny I couldn't believe it.
I had always had bisexual tendencies, but had also been mostly attracted
to men. It had been a long time since I had looked at a woman and been
really horny. Now, looking at Mistress Rowena, I thought that belonging
to her might not be bad at all. Painful, humiliating and just as
uncertain as being Daddy's property, but certainly attractive to an
owned bitch like me.
 
She started out by ordering me to my knees, on all fours. I instantly
complied and soon I stood on my knees and elbows, my hands were still
secured to my collar, and looked up expectantly. Her first move might
have been predictable, but I didn't see it coming and it was swift and
brutal. The paddle she had been holding partially hidden behind her
back, struck my trapped genitals with unrelenting force, moving me a
full foot forward and filling my whole world up with unbelievable pain.
I could barely scream I was so surprised. That and the air had been
knocked out of me. This made the next blow even more brutal and so too
the next one and the one after that. Completely desperate with pain and
also out of air, I was beginning to fear that she'd beat my balls to a
pulp, thus castrating me, like the poor slave we'd just seen.
 
But after five blows she stopped. This must have been according to some
kind of agreement with Daddy, because her eyes told me that if we'd been
alone she'd have beaten my balls forever. I was badly scared but there
was no place to run to, I had no way of running and besides I was too
well trained already and far too submissive to do so. Instead I stood
completely still, panting and whimpering with pain as she dropped the
paddle and swung her leg over my shoulder, so that she straddled me, her
legs on either side of my head. She clamped her legs together, trapping
my head in a vice-grip and looked down on me with an evil smile on her
face: "Well, Daddy's obedient little bitch let's see how well trained
you are. If you can hold completely still and not wriggle at all, but
only twitch a little, I lubricate Old Faithful. If not, you'll be taking
it bone-dry." The thought of her monster of a strap-on going up my ass
without lubrication almost made me scream with fear, but I managed a
fearful nod of understanding. It was quite simple; my head was already
in a vice-grip, so using only one hand she clamped my nose shut, cutting
off all air to my lungs. Very soon it became almost unbearable and
convulsions began in my stomach as I began to feel ever more desperate.
Panic crept into my mind as I tried to stay still and somehow breathe
around my gag, something that proved to be impossible. Spots began
appearing in front my eyes and finally I lost, jerking and twitching,
shaking my head, trying to escape as I panicked completely. But there
was no escape and as my mind was engulfed in panic, my struggles became
ever weaker as I could hear the rush of blood in my ears and my vision
faded until finally lost consciousness, convinced that Mistress Rowena
was killing me.
 
I came to twitching and jerking as I tried pulling in great big gulps of
air through my nose as I was still gagged. I couldn't get air in quickly
enough and while I struggled I was still in a state of panic. Finally I
got enough air and my breath began to stabilize and I calmed down a bit.
I looked up to see two things: Mistress Rowena's broad smile as she
caressed her frightful strap-on and Daddy's displeased look, telling me
that my payment for not keeping still would not end with Mistress
Rowena's strap-on ravaging me.
 
For now, however, Daddy was strangely the least of my concerns. So as
not to piss her off, I quickly scrambled up on all fours and bowed my
head to her feet to indicate both my submission and my apologies. This
earned a sympathetic sound from Mistress Rowena, but a dissatisfied
grunt from Daddy. Then, at her touch, I turned around so that she would
have unimpeded access to my ass. Moaning with passion and a strange
sense of loss, I felt how she removed my plug and my ass felt open and
vulnerable. And dry. Much too dry. I had expected her to pounce on me
then, but to my surprise I felt strong arms, Daddy's arms, lifting me up
and depositing me on a low table of sorts. With some trepidation I
realized that this was to improve her stance so that she wouldn't have
to get down on her knees, but would be able to screw me standing up.
 
And then she did pounce. First came her hands gripping my hips, getting
a good hold, and then I felt the tip of her monster resting against my
asshole. Here she waited for a short while, drawing out the suspense.
Then she moved in, but to my surprise she didn't just ram it home as I
expected her to. Rather she pushed it in slowly, deliberately,
inexorably. At one inch in I thought she was going to tear me up. At two
inches in I thought she'd split me up and at three inches in I was
screaming with pain and panic, thinking she was ruining me for good. I
did, however, manage to hold still as she violated me and was thus able
to stem a little of Daddy's rage over my lack of control. When she was
all the way in, I was gasping and crying, trying desperately not to
move, to make things worse. This was not in her plans and having gotten
all the way in, she began bumping and grinding in earnest. It was easily
the most painful fuck I had ever endured and I spent the entire time
screaming into my gag, tears rolling down my face. When she pulled out I
was convinced that I'd never be able to hold shit again and that I was
ruined.
 
I did manage to thank her by lowering my head to plant a gagged kiss on
Old Faithful as she came around to my front to present it to me. I was
not surprised to see that my blood was on it, along with some of my
shit. My love and gratitude for Daddy grew when he did not remove my gag
to lick her pole clean. As Mistress Rowena left with her slave, thanking
Daddy for a great time, he did put my vibrating plug back in place,
admonishing me to hold it in place. Pulling me up to stand, this proved
very painful indeed, but not impossible as I had feared. Shocked at the
violence with which she had raped me, but relieved that my ass did after
all work, I gratefully followed Daddy as he tugged my leash and went off
in search of other perversions at the party.
 
Daddy quickly found Master Rod and his now castrated slave. The boi now
stood tied behind his owner at a small bar, looking the worse for wear.
He was very pale and stood swaying slightly, his arms bound behind his
back, a black ball-gag in his mouth and a leash tied to his steel
collar. A bandage covered his crotch but I could see his now limp and
useless cock had been pierced quite viciously, once through the head
with a sturdy ring and four times through the shaft with little, steel
barbells. How he was even able to stand after his castration was a
mystery to me, but there was no doubt that Master Rod's hold on him was
exceptionally hard and complete.
 
Master Rod eyed me with interest when we came, asking if I still had my
balls. This made me jump with fear, but Daddy threw back his head and
laughed, telling Rod that he preferred to keep my balls - at least for
now. While our owners exchanged chit-chat the castrated slave and I
exchanged looks. We were both trapped, mostly by our own nature. I had
willingly agreed to this and even after seeing the things I had today
still wanted to be Daddy's bitch, even if it meant that my future was
very uncertain. I more than suspected that someday Daddy would end my
"normal" working life and make me his in-house slave, but I didn't know
when that might be or what that might be like. Daddy had owned me for
months now and I still had no idea how he lived or even where he lived.
 
The castrated slave in front of me was practically unmarked and might
even still be performing a regular job. Like me, his hands and face were
unmarked, but unlike me so was his body. From what Daddy had told me
this slave would star in a snuff movie all too soon and he probably
didn't even know it. Would he have agreed to be owned and castrated if
he had known this? The question was not strange to me since I had
thought these thoughts and come to the conclusion that I would rather
risk being snuffed by Daddy than be without him, without his merciless
control. Seeing this poor slave, castrated and bound to be tortured to
death, I was forced to think about this again. About what I wanted;
about how submissive I really was, how much I loved pain and how much I
wanted to Daddy to own and control me. Surprising myself yet again I
quickly, much too quickly I thought, came to the conclusion that I
wanted to be Daddy's boi, no matter where that might take me.
 
As we left for home in the early hours of the morning, my body now
unbelievably sore from additional punishment, Daddy asked me gently
before strapping into the front seat of the car: "Are you Daddy's boi?
Daddy's property for good?" He had removed my gag at that stage and so I
leaned forward to kiss his hand as I replied: "Yes, Daddy. I'll be your
bitch always. Do to me as you please. Use me in any way that you like.
Use me up and wear me out, but please don't leave me." As he patted my
cheek and got into the car and drove us home, I realized that the whole
purpose of this trip had been to make me think these thoughts, to force
me to make this decision.
 
Chapter 7
Soon the time came to remove the pouch around my genitals, but
this time Daddy did not do it at home. Instead he took me to a very
discrete tattoo, piercing and fetish shop downtown. The front windows
did say what went on inside, but only if you really looked carefully.
Passing it casually and you might think it any number of things, but not
those.
 
It might have been discrete, but it was certainly not small. Inside it
was huge and filled with all manner of strange things. Daddy had picked
me up after work and so I was still in my business suit as I entered a
few steps in front of him. A petite and very sexy woman approached me
and asked me if she might be of service. She was about my height, but
wore black six-inch stilettos and a sort of uniform dress made of very
tight fitting, embroidered red silk with a high collar giving it a
vaguely Chinese look. She had long golden hair and a tan to match. She
looked like a surfer girl in the wrong outfit, but very sexy all the
same. Her nametag said "Mandy" and she had only just asked me when Daddy
walked in and she spotted him. Immediately her demeanor changed and she
quickly minced over to him and curtseyed: "Master John. It is an honor.
We are so pleased to see you here again. Shall I fetch Master
Sebastian?" She sounded not honored or pleased to see Daddy, but scared
shitless and when Daddy said yes to her question she scampered away as
if she was being chased by a pack of wild dogs.
 
Master Sebastian, who owned the shop, turned out to be a dapper man,
with strangely well kept red hair. He and Daddy were obviously long time
friends and we quickly found ourselves in a private room in the back.
Calling it a private room may be a little wrong, since it was clearly a
dungeon. Mandy was with us and stood nervously in the corner, waiting
for her orders.
 
Daddy ordered me to strip, which I as quickly as possible. Master
Sebastian indicated a rubber covered cross and soon I was tied to it,
spread-eagle and naked except for my hateful pouch. I hung there for a
while as Daddy and Master Sebastian caught up. I was almost sure that
I'd not be allowed to cum when Daddy had the pouch removed, but I still
hoped. The big question for now was whether I would be fitted with a
more permanent chastity device. My mind was very much divided on the
idea. On one hand I was hornier than I had ever been before, in so much
sexual need that I could hardly believe it myself. On the other hand I
felt an urgent need to please Daddy, to belong to him completely. Being
dragged around and seeing other masters and slaves it was quite clear to
me that most of the slaves in relationships that were not of the vanilla
type, wore chastity devices, at least if they had a cock.
 
But before I was dealt with, Mandy caught the attention of Daddy and
Master Sebastian. She had undressed and now stood at attention naked,
wearing only her heels. Her body had a deep, even and beautiful tan, her
skin looked hairless and very soft. Her waist was very slim, but was not
fitted with a corset and her breasts were full and round. But instead of
a set of pussy lips, she had a tiny little penis with a ring piercing
the head and a set of miniscule balls. She was not fitted with a
chastity device, but her penis hung down, limp and useless. Everything
about her was feminine, even her tiny cock. It was certainly smaller
than the clitorises I had seen on some ridiculously muscular
dominatrixes at the fetish party. In fact it looked very much out of
place, even if you had seen the number of shemales I had in the last few
weeks, most of them slaves. Also, she seemed genuinely terrified of
Daddy.
 
Master Sebastian explained it to me, apparently eager that I hear the
story. Mandy had been a slightly submissive transvestite when Master
Sebastian had met her. The attraction had been fast and hard, but after
a while they ran into trouble. Master Sebastian was only just beginning
his "career" as a master, but the more he got, then more he wanted. The
more he tied up Mandy, the more he wanted to do it and the harder he
punished her, the harder he longed to do it to her. She, however, did
not feel the same way and soon the relationship broke apart. It could
have ended there had Master Sebastian not met Daddy right before the
breakup.
 
Mandy was his first slave and Master Sebastian obsessed over her, the
need to own her very bad. Daddy was already a very experienced man and
he had instantly liked the younger man, seeing in him a fellow pervert
of the harshest kind. Unlike Sebastian, however, Daddy had the right
connections and even more importantly, he had an idea how to make Mandy
Sebastian's property for good. He would use a combination of fulfilling
her deepest desires and worst nightmares. Mandy loved her feminine side,
loved the clothes and the makeup. She loved being subordinate to a man,
getting taken by him and acting submissively around him, being his soft
and docile little girl, lying in her man's arms after they had both cum.
But she didn't enjoy the harsher aspects of slavery; giving up control
completely, being punished harshly and being tied up all the time. So
when Sebastian had started down that road, she had pulled out.
 
Grabbing Mandy was no art and Daddy didn't make a big fuss. He simply
jumped her in a dark alley on her way home from a tranny hangout, tied
her up and threw her in the car, making her disappear from the face of
the earth. Since no one at her work or in her family knew that she was a
transvestite and since Master Sebastian meanwhile removed all traces of
this from her apartment, no one connected Mandy the transvestite with
the disappearance of the young man she had lived as and her enslavement
was a fact.
 
Now Daddy turned her into his slave in the most brutal manner possible,
with incessant beatings, prolonged and brutal bindings and humiliations
of the worst kind. Mandy naturally broke in short order, but she felt no
love for Daddy like I did since she had not sought out this kind of
slavery (I hadn't either, but I had loved the brutality from day one).
But Daddy did own her and shortly after breaking her, he pretended to
tire of her and took her to Master Rob's place and had her castrated.
The castration broke her completely, removing even the slightest glimmer
of hope that she'd one day be able to return to a more normal life.
Having gone through no cosmetic procedure to look more feminine, she was
now merely a quite feminine looking boi-bitch. And since her very
feminine looks had always been dependent to a large extent on her
ability to dress and wear makeup, she was neither one sex nor the other
and not too close to either when it came to looks. And so, at her lowest
point, Daddy took her to a dinner party hosted be Master Sebastian. Here
Daddy "let it slip" that he was so very tired of this stupid boi-bitch
he had caught. Sebastian on the other hand told Daddy that he knew the
slave and actually liked her quite a bit. Daddy feigned surprise and
soon they agreed that Sebastian could have her for a token amount of
money as Daddy was glad to be rid of her.
 
But before buying her Master Sebastian turned to Mandy and told her that
since he knew her in advance, he had a few conditions before he'd buy
her, some things she had to do if she didn't want to be sold again very
quickly. Filled with hope that she might escape the brutal man holding
her, she listened intently and would probably have agreed right away,
before hearing what Master Sebastian had to say, had she not been tied
and gagged at the time. Master Sebastian wanted a super feminine and
absolutely, unquestioningly obedient slave doll. If she was to be his
property she would have to undergo extensive surgery and she would have
to obey every single order he ever gave her without hesitation. Is she
did this, she would simply be his "bind hard, whip hard, fuck hard"
doll. If she didn't, there was always Daddy or Master Rob.
 
Mandy would do anything to escape Daddy and she had already begun
viewing her time with Sebastian with a real sense of nostalgia. Here he
was, offering her not only a way out, but also a chance to become truly
feminine, something she had always dreamed of. Mandy jumped at the
chance and instantly became Master Sebastian's utterly devoted slave.
After a whole lot of surgery, which had among other things removed
several ribs to make her waist slimmer and given her real tits, large
ones too, and a whole lot of obedience training, she was his, body and
soul. Only one piece of surgery remained, one which Master Sebastian
insisted on. The final operation reduced her limp cock to the tiny,
almost clitoris-like thing I saw in her crotch. In the operation she
also got two small steel balls implanted where her testicles had once
been. This way she was always reminded of what she was and of what she
might have been, had she stayed with Master Sebastian right from the
start.
 
After a while Master Sebastian had told Mandy that she had been set up
and that her rescue by Sebastian was merely the outcome the two masters
had been aiming for all along. But she seemed to have accepted her fate
and the fact that this was probably the best she could hope for. To have
a master who was genuinely obsessed with her, even if that meant brutal
punishments from time to time and that she had to show her love and
gratitude towards him every second of the day, never missing a step, was
far, far better than all her other options. So Mandy chose to love,
honor and obey Master Sebastian with fanatic devotion, outshining all
the other girls and shemales he owned, fucked or punished. None were as
devoted to Master Sebastian as her.
 
For now she stood by as Daddy told Master Sebastian what he wanted done
to me. I couldn't hear them, but the evil little smile Master Sebastian
sent my way after hearing, told me that it was probably going to be
humiliating at the very least.
 
The first part, however, wasn't half-bad. Daddy equipped me with a very
narrow blindfold and then he removed the pouch and the catheter from my
genitals. The feeling of relief was indescribable as cool air touched my
cock again. Then someone, I assume it was Mandy since the hands felt
small and soft, began washing my genitals, a feeling so wonderful that
it made me babble, groan, keen and whimper with delight and gratitude.
Soon I was as hard as I had ever been and my hips were thrusting
involuntarily as Mandy's soft hands moved me towards a climax simply by
washing me. Then Daddy's voice spoke ever so softly into my left ear:
"If you cum now boi, your balls will be gone before the blindfold is."
My delighted keening turned to whimpers of desperation as I fought to
control the approaching orgasm. I hoped that Mandy would finish up her
washing so that it would become easier, but Daddy told her to go on
until he told her stop.
 
I don't know for how long she washed and rubbed my cock with her gentle
hands, but it seemed like hours and days. Her soft touch became the
worst torture I had ever experienced and she had me crying and begging
in minutes. As I tried desperately to control my cock, I pleaded and
begged for her to stop her ministrations, to please let me off the hook.
I begged Daddy and I begged Mandy, but neither responded for the longest
time. Time became stretched out as I lost track of it. It suddenly
seemed as if I had been here forever; as it was here Daddy had found me
and captured me and that it was here he would remove my balls. In my
minds eye I saw Master Rob castrating a slave strapped to a table and
the slave was me. I lost all control evacuated my bowels from pure fear.
It felt as if I was loosing myself.
 
Finally Daddy ordered Mandy to stop and her soft hands went away. Even
after they were gone it took a supreme amount of self-control to stop
the approaching orgasm and when I finally succeeded I was a complete
wreck, unable to stop my pleading. Eventually I calmed down behind my
blindfold and I felt Daddy's hand on my balls. The touch made me whimper
with fear, but I managed to keep relatively quiet and hold still. Then
he whispered in my ear: "Do you still want to belong to me boi?"
Tearfully I once again pleaded my allegiance, begged him not to leave
me. He gave my balls a gentle squeeze and continued: "If you belong to
me there will always be the risk of loosing your balls; because you fuck
up or because it pleases me. You'll never know when or if it might
happen and you'll never know if you'll ever cum again." I swallowed hard
as he continued: "If you say "yes" to me now, you will move on step
closer to total slavery of the harshest kind. If you say "yes" to me now
Mandy will start the process of removing all of your body hair
irrevocably and before the evening is out you will have had your cock
pierced and been fitted with a chastity device that you will have no
possibility of removing." He paused a bit and then asked me: "So boi, do
you still want to me mine?"
 
I had anticipated everything he asked me and already at the fetish party
I had come to my conclusion. What is more, I was certain that Daddy knew
this. So his question wasn't as much asking me for permission, since I
already knew from Mandy's story that he could and would take me by force
if that was what he preferred. Daddy asked the question, not to have me
choose to be his slave, I had already chosen that, but rather to
reinforce my sense of being owned and controlled. At every step he was
challenging me, making me work my way deeper into slavery, forcing me to
think ever more like his property, and using my own will and my own
strength to do it. The thought that I belonged to such a supremely
accomplished master made me weak with submissive joy: "Yes Daddy," I
croaked, "I belong to you, body and soul entirely to you. Do to me as
you please, no matter what that is, but please keep as you slave-boi.
Please Daddy, I beg you: please keep me." Daddy answered with an
affectionate squeeze of my testicles and then Mandy's hands were on my
body.
 
At the time I didn't know what she did, just that she touched my skin
with something and that my skin became strangely warm at where she
touched it. I later found out that she was employing a laser hair
removal tool. Having all of my body hair removed took quite a while and
of course required that I be tied with my other side to the cross so
that she could remove hairs on my back. Also it was relaxing in a
strange way. Daddy did not want me too relaxed so ever so often Mandy
would use her hands to bring me to the edge, the very real threat of
castration hanging over my head were I not able to control myself. So
when Mandy had finally gone over my entire body, I was exhausted with
effort and fear.
 
I was still tied to the cross, my front facing out and my tortured
member easily accessible when my blindfold was removed. Daddy and Master
Sebastian stood a few steps away, observing as Mandy prepared to fit my
chastity device. She had changed her outfit and was now in the white
uniform of the kinky rubber nurse. At her side was a steel tray with an
assortment of unpleasant looking steel objects.
 
I was a little disappointed that it wasn't Daddy who was going to do the
actual piercing. At least I was until he looked me in the eye and said:
"You will look me in the eyes until I say otherwise and you will not
make a single sound. You know what will happen if you fail." Unlike
before, when I had been blindfolded and in immense sexual need, my
orders posed no problems for me at all this time. Daddy's steely gaze
focused me and the pain in my cock as Mandy pierced it several times was
a distant annoyance, no more. I felt how she first disinfected the
wounds with a stinging liquid, presumably stopping the bleeding at the
same time and then slipped something on my cock, something that
constricted me uncomfortably. I did not look down as Daddy had not yet
given me permission. Finally she stopped fiddling and Daddy told me to
look at the cock me now owned completely.
 
My cock was now inside a narrow steel tube, extending from the root of
my cock to right behind the head. The feeling of pressure and the fact
that the head was a good deal wider than the shaft meant that Mandy had
used quite a bit of effort as well as lubrication to get it on and that
it would be quite painful to get off again. Imprisoning the head itself
was a cage of surprisingly sturdy, curved steel bars, four in all, all
welded to the tube and insuring that to even touch the head of my cock
I'd have to use a very slim tool, perhaps the tip of a pencil could
reach it.
 
To hold this in place Mandy had used four piecings: one almost at the
root, one on the center of my shaft and one almost right behind the
head. Through all of these little rods with little knobs on the end had
been put. The knobs had been clued in place with a glue that Daddy told
me required the use of a special solvent, combined with heat and special
tool to get off. I was obviously going to spend quite a bit of time in
this chastity tube before Daddy took it off, if indeed he ever would.
The thought alone stopped my breath for a second, both with dread and
submissive joy. The fourth and final piercing was through the head of my
cock and through it went a ring, weaving in and out through the bars
confining my cock. It was somewhat flexible and it too had been closed
with a small knob, secured in the same way as the rods. There was no way
I was getting out of that chastity tube without help and a lot of tools
and first of all I had neither right now, but secondly and most
importantly I had no desire to escape it. It proved, more than any other
physical thing, that I belonged to Daddy, that I was property.
 
After Daddy had explained how hard it would be to get off, he released
me and kneeling with Master Sebastian and his slave Mandy as audience, I
blew Daddy by way of thanking him for making me take one more step into
absolute slavery.
 
As he drove me home, me in my business suit, my other life, the life
lived mostly at the bank, struck me as absurd, surreal even. It had lost
its meaning to me, its value. The only that mattered to me now was Daddy
and belonging to him. I didn't care what he might do to me, as long as
it was him doing it. Or rather; I'd rather get castrated and fucked to
death by him the next day, than live a quiet life where I got to retire
and enjoy my old age. Because I wouldn't enjoy it. I'd know that I'd
missed my chance; my chance of being an owned bitch, Daddy's boi. That
was all that mattered. Whatever he might do to me was simply the price I
had to pay and I would pay it gladly.
 
Chapter 8
In the weeks and months that followed things continued much as
they had before when I had "just" worn the pouch, only I was even
hornier and even more submissive. Strangely I was able to perform my
work just as well as I had before I had met Daddy, but of course I no
longer interacted in any way with my colleagues socially. The exception
was of course Mistress Rowena. I hadn't had much to do with her before,
saying hi, discussing a letter or an invoice but no more than that. To
my surprise this continued and around other people she behaved as if
nothing had ever happened, as if she had never fucked me so brutally
that I bled for three days, had never beaten my balls or choked me for
kicks. However, the few times no one else was around her behavior
changed. There was never much time, so she had to make it short. The
form of torture that gave her the most pleasure in the shortest time
span was quite simply to squeeze or knee my balls.
 
But of course no rule without exceptions. Once she had me to herself in
a secluded corner of the office for a minute or two. She used the time
efficiently, ordering me to stand with my feet wide apart and my hands
behind my head. Dreading the consequences I instantly complied. She
stepped back to get a small run, drew back her right leg and licked me
unbelievably hard in the balls, using her ankle as the point of contact.
Unable to make a sound as all the air and energy had been kicked out of
me, I collapsed on the floor, my mouth open in a silent scream. She
exploited this and forced the tip of her high-heeled shoe into my mouth,
forcing me to worship her even as I lay there, my whole being absorbed
in pain.
 
When I had worshipped both of her shoes, licking what tasted like
dog-shit off their soles, she had me lie on my back, legs spread and
hands behind my head. Whimpering with fear, but too submissive and too
smart to object I did as she told me to. Cursing me out as the useless
boi-bitch I was, she them used the heels of her stilettos to step as
hard as she could on my balls, stabbing my poor testicles until I was
sure that they would pop. When she had reduced me to silent pleading and
tears rolling down my cheeks and my breath was almost out, she stopped
and ordered me to stand on all fours, legs spread wide. Then, as way of
finishing her fun, she kicked me in the balls as hard as she could five
times in a row. Again my whole being was engulfed in pain and I curled
up in ball, unable to speak and almost unable to breathe. I then felt
her heel on my throat and heard her say: "Get up you useless creep and
walk out of here as if nothing happened. And when your owner fucks you
in the lunch break, give him my regards." I just wanted to lie there
curled up until the pain went away, but of course that was not an
option. So I did as was expected of me and ignored the pain. Instead I
had to make sure that Mistress Rowena was pleased, so I kissed her
stilettos and got up, straightened my clothes and wiped away my tears. I
then smiled submissively at her and walked out of the room, my balls
screaming with pain. It was two hours before lunch and I tried to sit
absolutely still in that period of time, trying to allow my balls some
peace.
 
When Daddy saw my bruised and battered balls, now turning dark blue with
little cuts where her heels had hit more than once, he nodded
approvingly and then with no warning at all, smacked them as hard as he
could with his palm. With a half-strangled scream I collapsed, again
overcome with the pain. I could take no more abuse of my balls, but of
course it was not up to me. Daddy lifted me up from the floor of the
abandoned garage he was using to abuse me during my lunch breaks and
forced my mouth down over his cock. He had begun training me in
deep-throating him and he used the opportunity to continue my training.
Already out of breath from the blow to my balls Daddy's cock forcing
itself down my throat nearly choked me and throughout the very prolonged
blowjob I was in a state of near-panic from lack of air. I was kneeling,
trousers around my ankles, exposing my imprisoned and abused genitals,
fighting for air as Daddy's hand around my neck forced me down over his
cock until it was very far down my throat.
 
After an endless fuck Daddy came, flooding my mouth with cum, nearly
drowning me. As I dressed, wiping the remains of his cum off my chin and
thanking him for his brutal treatment, he said to me: "Worthless bitch.
You will go back to the office and thank Mistress Rowena and then tell
that I'd be delighted if she would do the same thing to you this
afternoon and that I'd be most grateful if she'd do the same thing twice
a day for the remainder of the week. Now get going boi!" As I thanked
Daddy and scampered away, back to work, my heart sank. My balls hurt
terribly already and it was only Tuesday. By the end of the week I would
be castrated by Mistress Rowena's heels at Daddy's request.
 
Still, it wasn't as if I had a choice. So when I got back I immediately
approached Mistress Rowena's desk. She was talking on the phone so I
waited patiently until she was done and then said, in a voice low enough
not to be heard by anyone else but her: "Mistress Rowena, please
Mistress Rowena. Daddy thanks you for punishing a useless shit like me
and asks if you would be so kind as to do again this afternoon?" She
smiled evilly and said that of course she'd do such a thing for Daddy.
Then I went on: "Daddy furthermore asks if you would be so kind as
continue the same treatment of this useless boi-bitch throughout the
week, twice a day." I trembled as I said this and from the look on her
face I could tell that she was a bit surprised, thinking that perhaps it
was effectively risking castration, but of course she graciously agreed.
Then she told me a time and a place where the next punishment would take
place and I thanked her before leaving. Two hours later I was again
licking her stilettos, thanking her for almost ruining my balls.
 
My Friday afternoon I had serious difficulty walking normally and indeed
my colleagues had been joking about my walk already Wednesday afternoon.
I was sure that I would never again have an erection and that indeed my
balls were broken and ruined. But Daddy had ordered it and so all I
could do was to comply.
 
After work it was time for a hair treatment at Master Sebastian's
dungeon. It had become a weekly ritual, one that would continue until
all of my body hair was permanently gone. As always Daddy met me there
and watched as Mandy, dressed in her dirty nurse uniform, applied the
hair removal tool. To protect my eyes I was blindfolded and while Mandy
tended to my skin Daddy first inspected and then squeezed my very, very
tender balls. His touch alone made me scream as his fingers ran across
the welts and cuts Mistress Rowena's sharp stiletto heels had made on my
poor testicles. Daddy had me screaming during the whole time Mandy
removed hair from my body and when he took me down from the cross I was
of course crying and pleading for the brutal man who owned me to please
have mercy.
 
There was precious little mercy to be had from Daddy, something I loved
and would in fact have no other way, but he did allow me to blow him.
Servicing Daddy in any way always filled me with submissive joy, but
there is something special about providing oral service. When being
taken from behind, it is the fact that you are being taken that is the
big thing; that you are the object, submissive by lack of action. When
blowing someone, which is always on the knees in one way or the other,
you are actively proving your submission. On your knees, whether your
eyes are demurely pointed downwards or you are looking up, your eyes
supplicating the one you are sucking, you are actively showing that you
are the subordinate one; that you are submitting. Providing a proper
blowjob, no matter if it's a job with your hands behind your back or
head or if you are using your hands to please the one you are blowing,
means pleasing the other sexually but not yourself. A proper blowjob, by
its very nature, is a submissive act. And so I love it. I love showing
Daddy that I am his property, no matter how it is done, but sucking on
that very fine pole of his is a special joy to me.
 
When I had swallowed Daddy's load, this time getting all of it, he threw
me a suit and pair of shoes and told me that we were going out. My heart
beating much faster now, excited and fearful about what was going to
happen; I quickly put on the suit and shoes. The suit turned out to be a
full-body suit made of ultra thin rubber, shiny white in color. Apart
from at my head, hands and feet, there were small openings at my
genitals and over my ass. My bruised cock and balls were pulled out
through the small hole, making me whine pathetically and to stuff my ass
and thus show that it belonged to Daddy and no one else, a large
vibrating buttplug was shoved into it. The shoes were of course
stilettos, red Oxfords with seven-inch heels made of very thin, shiny
metal. They were several sizes too small and hurt terribly to walk in,
but I nonetheless smiled and thanked Daddy for the nice clothes. He had
begun shrinking the size of the stilettos I wore around him and the only
thing I could do about it was to smile and say: "Thank you Daddy." That
and suffer in silence.
 
After dressing I stood at attention as he finished preparing me for the
night. First I was given red rubber gloves to wear and then he tied my
elbows together on my back, making my gloved hands stick out to the
sides. He then inserted a huge, red ball-gag in my mouth and strapped
red leather cuffs on my ankles, connected by a slender steel chain no
more than eight inches long. Finally he attached a leash to the ring in
my cock and led me out of Master Sebastian's dungeon, slapping Mandy so
hard in the face that she fell down. As I minced out behind Daddy,
fighting to keep up, I heard her thanking Daddy for his attention.
 
Daddy led me out to his car and strapped me into the front seat. Being
seen by everyone we drove by was a source of endless humiliation to me,
but Daddy never showed any sign of noticing the long stares my rubber
bound and gagged form drew from passers by. We arrived at a mansion at
the other end of town and were shown directly into a very spacious
private dungeon were a party of sorts was going on. It turned out to be
Master Rob's house and his private dungeon and that alone insured that
none of the people invited were into vanilla.
 
Rob himself greeted Daddy as we arrived. His slave followed right behind
him, his limp and useless member leashed to his owner's belt. He was
completely naked and his hands had been folded into a backprayer and
tied to his upper body with very tight rope. Last I had seen him he had
just been castrated and his skin had been unmarked and although he had
just lost his balls, he had looked at his master with deep and loving
affection. Not so anymore. His entire body was now a testimony of
prolonged and unrelenting torture with welts, bruises and outright cuts
everywhere, the smallest patches of skin marked with the whip, the cane,
the crop or something much worse. His nipples, ears, nose and cock had
been pierced, some of these places many times and rings carrying either
little weights or little bells hung from them. And the way in which he
looked at his owner had changed too. When he wasn't looking down as he
usually would, his eyes betrayed abject terror when his master's eyes
fell on him. He now knew or at least suspected what would happen to him
and therefore also knew that his dreams of a lifetime of devotion to his
owner were false and bound to end brutally.
 
For now, however, he was left to trail uselessly behind Master Rob as he
circulated among his visitors. There were quite a few masters and slaves
at the party and there were plenty of entertainment involving slaves
being tortured to varying degrees. Naturally I began to get very
nervous, but for a long time Daddy merely watched the show and of course
so did I. To one particularly arousing performance, a shemale slave
being turned into a rubber puppy in a manner so brutal that when she was
finally cocooned and on her knees she was unable to stop screaming, I
blew him, but other than that I wasn't touched. I was still tied up in
my white rubber suit, my arms sticking out ridiculously because my
elbows were touching behind my back. Having belonged to Daddy for many
months now I knew that it was unlikely that I would go free of
punishment merely because my balls were badly damaged, so as the party
progressed I became more and more nervous.
 
As it turned out I was right to be nervous. When almost all of the
slaves had been punished everyone gathered around a kind of center stage
arrangement, a dais-like arrangement in the largest area of Master Rob's
dungeon. I was the first one to enter this stage, mincing behind Daddy
as he positioned me for the evening's last show. He positioned me on my
knees so that my genitals were about a foot in front of a ring in the
floor, through which he looped my leash. Then he strapped my knees and
ankles to the floor and pulled on my leash, forcing me to sit down on my
calves. He tied off the leash to something behind me, presumably another
ring, and thus prevented me from getting up. I now sat on the floor with
my hands sticking out to the sides, gagged and clad in rubber and facing
about half the crowd. The other half of the crowd was behind me. Daddy
stood right behind me and stayed there for the time being.
 
Two other slaves were then led onto the stage and tied down right beside
me. They too were tied down kneeling, but their genitals were left free,
or at least they were freed from their chastity devices when they had
been strapped down. Both of them had their hands tied behind their
backs, but none were gagged.
 
The slaves were two young males, both with mistresses standing right
behind them. I recognized Mistress Rowena and her son to my left and the
pair to my right also looked like a mother and son combination, though I
thought the coincidence too great to be true.
 
The Master Rob stepped onto the stage and addressed the crowd: "Ladies
and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming, I do hope you've had an
enjoyable evening?" The crowd cheered at this, but of course the cheers
came exclusively from the dominants. I saw many tear-streaked slave
faces in the crowd; the ones who had delivered the entertainment. The
cheering died down and Master Rob continued: "For the final piece of
entertainment tonight we have some very generous people indeed." The
word "generous" made me very nervous but there was nowhere to run to.
"Master John has brought us his new boi-bitch," Master Rob said and
indicated Daddy, "and mistresses Adele and Rowena have both brought
their slave-sons." The crowd showed their appreciation by cheering
loudly and only stopped when Master Rob finished: "It's a simple game:
The boi-bitch has thirty minutes to make the others cum. He will loose
one testicle per slave that fails to cum. My eyes flew wide open and I
whined with fear and I looked over my shoulder in panic only to be met
with Daddy's steely stare: "If you loose any of them I'll just leave you
here with Master Rob," he said for me alone and stepped off the stage,
leaving me in a state of near-panic. "For the other slaves the rules are
just as simple. If the boi-bitch makes them cum, they'll be castrated."
 
The two bound boys next to me began pleading with their
mothers/mistresses as these stepped away from the stage. The one on my
right pleaded to his mother: "Mistress, please Mistress. Mistress,
please, please!" But of course he spoke to her retreating and
unresponsive back. Mistress Rowena's son was even more pitiful as he
pleaded: "Mommy, please Mommy. I'll be ever so good Mommy. Please don't
do this Mommy, please Mommy!" Of course Mistress Rowena only sneered at
this and left him.
 
Now only the two slaves and I were left on the stage. Their cocks were
just within reach of my hands, for the occasion clad in red rubber.
Master Rob positioned a big stopwatch so that both the crowd and I could
see it and then he stepped down with the words: "On my mark you'll have
exactly thirty minutes boi. Three, two, one, MARK!" With that he started
the stopwatch and I knew what I had to do. I definitely did not want to
see the two slave-boys castrated, but I would rather that it happened to
them than to me. Of course I feared castration, but again I found that
the fear of loosing Daddy was greater that the fear of loosing my balls.
So I grabbed their semi-flaccid cocks firmly and began to manipulate
them.
 
Since Daddy forbade any other cock in my ass and mouth but his own and
since he did not want to cheat other masters and mistresses, he had made
me practice my handjob technique a great deal. Also, it was clear that
both slaves had been without orgasm for quite some time. Their fresh,
young cocks, so full of hormones, sprang to life in my rubber-clad hands
and soon the air was filled with desperate pleading. After five minutes
both were twisting and jerking, desperately trying to get away from my
grip, but of course this was impossible because of their bonds. After
ten minutes the slave on my right lost the ability to produce words and
his pleading turned to panicked keening and after thirteen minutes he
lost it. He screamed and his bound form convulsed as he sprayed my face
and body with his cum, a truly staggering amount of it too. For a long
time he was wracked by aftershocks, which I helped produce and enhance
since I found myself unable to stop jerking him off for a few minutes
afterwards.
 
Mistress Rowena's son proved more resilient and after twenty-five
minutes I was beginning to panic. My left hand and arm were burning with
the effort and I thought that I would loose for sure since he had
jerking and pleading the whole time, but seemingly without getting
closer to cuming. Then, at the twenty-seven minute mark, his pleading
turned to desperate keening and I found the extra reserves now that I
could hear how close he was. At the twenty-nine minute mark he screamed:
"Mommy!" as loud as he could and sprayed my face and chest with a true
fountain of cum as he lost to the orgasmic convulsions. These took
possession of him and gripped him for three more minutes as I continued
to pump him while all the time he called for his mommy.
 
It was over and I was covered in cum and my hands and arms were burning
with effort, but I had nonetheless won. The two losers were led away by
their very angry mothers/mistresses while Daddy untied the straps
holding me to the floor. As he stood me up he whispered in my ear: "Good
job boi. You may yet become an adequate slave." My heart swelled with
pride at these words and I momentarily forgot what I had done to the two
other slaves.
 
I was quickly reminded of this as two special tables were placed on the
center stage and as the slaves were strapped down just like Master Rob's
own slave had been when he had been castrated, I knew what was going to
happen. Mistress Rowena's son was still pleading to his mommy and the
other one to his mistress, but neither woman had any patience left for
their useless offspring. And so the actual castrations were left to the
two mothers. Mistress Adele went first and after cooling her son's
genitals down she used a scalpel to cut away that which had now proven
itself useless. The whole operation was quick and after Master Rob had
inserted a slave ring in the crotch of the poor slave, he was bandaged
and given back to his mistress.
 
Mistress Rowena was not so quick. Instead she started by beating her
son's balls mercilessly, making me cringe as I recalled what she had
done to me through the whole week. She progressed to other forms of
torture; clamps, electricity and heat, so when she was finally ready to
castrate her son, he was practically begging her to do it. As long as
she stopped her torture he would do anything. Of course this meant
nothing to Mistress Rowena, but she did finish. She did it with a pair
of scissors and the brutality of it was enough to momentarily silence
the crowd before they erupted into spontaneous cheering. Then that slave
too was fitted with a slave ring in his crotch and given back to
Mistress Rowena who was still smoldering with anger over his lack of
self-control.
 
Shortly thereafter Daddy bade Master Rob goodnight, thanking him for a
lovely evening. I stood right behind Daddy, still covered in cum and
tied as I had been all evening. I was still quite shaken from the last
event and how close I had come to loosing my balls, but neither Daddy
nor Master Rob acknowledged my presence, as if I had had no part in the
show. This was of course only right and proper, I was just a slave-boi,
but it still shook me how casually I was treated as a slave, how little
I was really worth.
 
Back at my apartment Daddy ripped out my buttplug and to the sounds of
my enthusiastic groaning he fucked me incredibly hard right inside the
door on the cold floor. Then he tied me to a bedpost and left me to
sleep on the floor beside the bed as was his habit. I was used to this
and had come to love being treated like that and in spite of my bonds I
quickly fell asleep. During the night I was haunted by terrible
nightmares in which Master Rob and Mistress Rowena tortured me horribly
as they went after my balls. At the last moment Daddy would rescue me
only to be the one castrating me.
 
Chapter 9
Daddy now imposed further rules for my dress and behavior in
public. First of all I now had to wear the white full-body rubber suit
under my regular clothes at all times. This meant that I was now a
rubber slave even when at work or on my way there. Apart from being very
sexy, further fuelling my increasing and increasingly frustrated sexual
desire, it was also very hot and very trying.
 
At the same time Daddy put me on a special diet, which I have lived by
ever since. I am a strict vegan; no meat, no fish, no eggs, nothing even
remotely animal related enters my diet. This is not because Daddy has
any qualms about eating such things, it is merely too prove to me how
worthless and easily controlled I am. In fact I eat only vegetables as
Daddy thinks that fruit can hold too much enjoyment and that I should me
barred from this too. As for drinks that is even simpler: apart from the
fluids that comes out of Daddy's cock, I am only allowed to drink one
thing and that is plain water. Even sparkling water is forbidden and so
eating and drinking holds no pleasure for me anymore, just as Daddy
wants it.
 
It also meant that I began loosing weight quite quickly and soon I
became downright skinny. Skinny with a very cute and very hard ass and
very sexy, quite feminine legs. Bouncing up and down Daddy's mighty pole
is hard work and my legs and buttocks have benefited greatly from it.
 
As for the rules governing my behavior in public, the changes were very
noticeable for me, but probably hardly so for the people around me.
First of all I had to sell my car, since I was no longer allowed to
drive myself around. Going to work, this meant nothing since taking the
car into town was pointless and so I had been taking the subway all
along. But now sitting down on a buss or in the subway was forbidden
too. So even in empty busses and trains I now stood up, no matter how
tired I was or how much the few other passengers stared at me.
 
When using a toilet I had to sit down. Peeing standing up was no longer
allowed and besides, the chastity device made it practically impossible,
unless I wanted to spray urine all over myself. But when I sat down in
the toilet I could no longer use the toilet seat, since that was too
good for me.
 
Finally Daddy imposed one last rule on me, one that gradually turned me
to the lowest ranking individual in any room and eventually made me the
butt end of every joker and prankster preying on the weak. I was not
allowed to disagree with anyone and could not refuse to do anything for
anyone. If I was dragged into a discussion or argument against my will,
Daddy's rule meant that I had to take the loosing position no matter how
obviously stupid. Gradually my coworkers began to view me with thinly
veiled contempt and I became increasingly isolated at work.
Conversations would either stop when I entered the room or they would go
ahead without making any effort to include me.
 
Naturally this was intensely humiliating and degrading for me, but of
course this only helped fuel my submissiveness. Since it was Daddy's
orders I had to obey; there were no other options.
 
Daddy now moved in and took over ever more of my life. I was no longer
allowed to use my cell phone for other things than receiving orders from
Daddy. Every morning Daddy made sure that I only had my pass for the
subway, a few dollars in change and one credit card in my wallet. Of
these I was only allowed to use the subway pass unless specifically
ordered to do otherwise. Before the money had among other things been
used to buy lunch, but since Daddy now used the lunch break to fuck me
and since most things I could buy were effectively forbidden to eat I
had nothing to spend my money on. To make sure I didn't break any rules
Daddy counted my money every morning and every evening and he checked
every last credit card statement I received. Or rather he checked every
piece of mail addressed to me, without letting me see the contents at
all. If I needed to know something Daddy would let me know.
 
My spare time had not been mine for some time now and Daddy's control
meant that I couldn't spend my ample salary. The only thing my salary
was used for was paying the mortgage on my apartment. The rest just
accumulated in my bank account. Of course I no longer had any control
over that and all I was left with was real fear. Daddy now controlled my
economy as well. This in itself did not worry me as much as the nagging
fear that he only did this to me to rob my money; that I was being
scammed. Of course such thought evaporated right out of my head whenever
I saw him or whenever my lips were wrapped around his magnificent cock.
But on my way to work the idea haunted me.
 
So when Daddy one day told me to sell my apartment, I was filled with
very mixed emotions. On one hand I was ecstatic; this might mean that I
would finally be kept as his slave 24/7 and never have to pretend being
a normal human being anymore. It might mean that my life would now be
intolerably degrading treatment without the possibility of release, a
state I had been fantasizing about for some time. On the other hand it
might also mean that Daddy was getting ready to rob me and dump me.
 
So I started to worry about this option, but the worrying did not go on
for long. Soon I realized that I of course had no say in the matter and
that in fact my thoughts were a form of disobedience. Naturally I told
Daddy that night about my mental disobedience and of course he did not
disappoint me. The next day I would have done anything to be allowed to
stay at home and nurse what I was sure was a pair of broken balls and an
asshole so damaged that I thought it would be impossible to repair. But
staying at home was of course not an option and so I went to work trying
not to waddle too obviously. I was reasonably successful in trying to
hide my injuries, but at work Mistress Rowena was waiting for me and
instructed by Daddy she spent ten minutes in the morning and ten minutes
in the afternoon punishing my already very sore testicles.
 
With great difficulty I managed to stay on my feet through the day and
at night I went directly to Master Sebastian's shop to keep the last of
my hair removal appointments. By now my body and face had been
completely smooth for several weeks without even the slightest
indication of returning hair. This was the final treatment and since
that night I haven't had a single hair below my eyebrows. As always
Daddy was there to meet me and I of course immediately peeled away my
business suit and crawled over to kiss his boots. After worshipping him
for a few minutes he made an annoyed sound and I peeled away my rubber
suit as well and let Mandy first blindfold me and then strap me to the
cross for the final treatment.
 
As I hung there in the darkness, I heard Daddy greeting Mistress Rowena.
They began chatting while I began to fear for the well-being of my
balls. Surely her presence meant that I'd be punished even more for my
transgressions against Daddy. So I was fully prepared to meet her angry
face when Mandy finished my treatment. I was, however, unprepared for
the sight that did meet me. Mistress Rowena had apparently not come to
inflict yet more damage to my balls, but instead to get a hair removal
treatment for her slave. At first I didn't recognize her slave, but when
I did I was shocked. His face had been softened and feminized surgically
and his crotch had healed, but it was still her son. If you could call
her slave male anymore. He was now completely hairless, without hair on
his head or even eyebrows. His skin looked soft and smooth and very
white and he had the beginnings of a pair of perky tits. He wore a pair
of stiletto sandals and his limp cock had been pierced with a golden
ring through the head. His nose had also been pierced and from it hung a
large ring, reaching just past his lower lip. He was ungagged, but
leashed with a choke chain, from which his neck bore recent marks. His
hands had been cuffed behind his back, but that was all. It was clear
that bindings were no longer necessary. Before he had looked at his
mother with either abject fear or outright supplication, but that had
changed. Mistress Rowena's now shemale son, looked at his
mistress/mother with abject devotion. Standing behind her he cast her
gentle and loving looks and when she talked to him or about him, he
blushed modestly and spoke to her softly, with devotion. When, as a
display of obedience, he was commanded to lick her boots clean, it
looked and sounded as if it gave him actual sexual pleasure and she had
to punish him for it. Even this he seemed to enjoy greatly.
 
The change was eerie, so much so that Daddy remarked on it when he drove
me back to my apartment: "She must really have beaten that boy's brains
to pieces after she took his balls," he remarked, "To turn a
non-submissive into that kind of groveling creature without the benefit
of just one actual orgasm is just plain creepy." Remembering how she had
removed his balls, I could only concur.
 
There was now no real reason for Daddy to let me work at the bank
anymore, if indeed there ever had been. So now finally I was ready, at
Daddy's command, to give up the pretense and become a fulltime slave. As
I quit my job I noticed that my boss accepted my resignation with
something akin to relief and surmised that perhaps he had been close to
firing me anyway. On my final day at the job no one, least of all
myself, bothered to arrange even the slightest form of party. Most were
obviously glad to be rid of me and the knowledge that I was despised by
my coworkers rammed home how much better off I'd be as Daddy's 24/7
fuck- and torture doll.
 
Only this time I didn't go home to my apartment. I had sold all I owned
except the clothes I wore. Under my respectable business suit I wore the
white rubber suit and in the shopping bag I carried were a pair of
handcuffs, a black rubber blindfold, a huge black penis gag and a pair
of red Oxfords with seven inch heels. All my money, every last cent I
owned, I had transferred to Daddy the night before. My wallet contained
my driver's license and three dollars. Nothing else. My credit cards had
been cancelled and cut in half and my cell phone thrown away. I owned
nothing and was now completely dependent on Daddy to take care of me.
 
But I didn't know for sure that he would actually claim me again. There
was still the nagging suspicion that he had robbed me and dumped me. I
couldn't do anything about it as I stood outside the office building and
I would just have to wait and see if Daddy would really come and claim
me as he had said he would. In order for that to happen I would, as
always, have to follow a very specific set of orders. I didn't want to
waste any time, longing as I did, to be Daddy's fulltime bitch. As he
had instructed me, I walked to the abandoned auto repair shop where
Daddy had first claimed me. It seemed so long ago, but it had been less
than a year. In less than a year he had turned me into a completely
submissive boi who hadn't had an orgasm in months.
 
Once inside the abandoned shop I removed my business suit and slipped on
the Oxfords. They were much too small for me and hurt my feet terribly,
just like Daddy wanted it. After sneaking a peek outside I minced out of
the auto shop, dumped my old clothes and shoes into a garbage can which
hadn't been used in years and set them on fire as per Daddy's
instructions. Inside the clothes was my wallet so now I didn't even have
identity papers anymore. All I had now were the fetish clothes I wore.
My hatefully, wonderfully, restrained cock, so long without release
strained against its inescapable prison, telling me that I was doing the
right thing. Then I minced back inside the abandoned building, away from
potentially prying eyes. Not that I had ever met anyone in the alley,
but I was getting awfully self-conscious out in the open. Once inside I
followed the last of Daddy's instructions. I first gagged myself. Then I
snapped one of the cuffs around my left wrist and backed up against a
steel column in the center of the room. Then I blindfolded myself and
finally I reached around the column behind me and snapped the handcuffs
shut around my other wrist, securing myself to the column. Escape was
now impossible without the key to the cuffs and Daddy had that key.
 
Daddy had given me one final instruction to comply with: more than four
feet off the floor a thick steel hook was mounted on the column. Using a
great deal of effort and contortion, I was able to get my cuffed hands
up to that level and hook them there, leaving me even more helplessly
tied to the column. The position put a great deal of strain on my
shoulders, but since this was the way Daddy wanted it, this was the way
it was going to be.
 
Now all that was left was for me to wait for Daddy. I had suspected that
he'd leave me hanging for some time, so I was not alarmed when he didn't
claim me right away. But behind the blindfold my sense of the passing of
time quickly disappeared. Soon it felt as if I had been standing there
for hours, a feeling that was only reinforced by the beginning ache
burning in my arms and especially my shoulder blades. As the ache became
stronger and my bladder filled up a voice of panic began to speak up in
the back of my head: Daddy wasn't coming. He had robbed me and dumped me
and now I'd hang here until I died or someone found me.
 
I entertained these terrible thoughts for hours until finally I heard
footsteps. They sounded like Daddy's and I instinctively began pleading
into my gag, forgetting all my training and shedding all dignity as I
tried to convey my relief and joy to my owner. At first nothing
happened. The footsteps stopped right in front of me, but Daddy, or
whoever it was, didn't say a word. Then a pair of fingers closed around
my nose and the rest of the hand folded itself around the edges of my
gag, thus shutting off all air to my lungs. Soon I began heaving for
air, trying to suck in air I had no access to. As my struggling
increased, a second hand held my head in a vice grip and soon my legs
were kicking ineffectually trying to break loose. As I ran out of air my
struggles became weaker and I involuntarily let my bladder go.
 
I came to, heaving for air, a short while later. My mind was still in a
state of panic, but I soon calmed down as I felt what was unmistakably
Daddy's knowledgeable hands roam my rubber bound body. They found every
little crevice and crack, squeezing my flesh much too hard, hitting me
with open palms in my most sensitive places again and again until I was
moaning with lust and pain. Then Daddy ripped out my gag and forced his
giant tool so far down my throat that he again cut off my breathing.
This time, however, it was for a short while only as he found his stride
and began fucking my face with long, hard strokes. Every time he buried
his cock in my face, he cut off my breath and I was just able to draw it
in every time he pulled back. My tongue tried desperately to provide him
with proper service as I reveled in my status as owned bitch now that
Daddy had come to claim me. Finally he shot his load and I happily
swallowed all of it, albeit with some difficulty. The words: "Good
bitch," coming from above filled me with unspeakable joy. Daddy then
lifted me off the hook and stood me up. Then he removed my blindfold and
held my chin in his hand, looking me straight in the eye: "You are mine
now and forever. I'll never sell you, never share your holes with anyone
else and I'll be the only one punishing you." My heart beat fast with
joy, but I didn't speak, not wanting to disappoint Daddy. "You can leave
me whenever you want, you have only to ask, but you won't, I'm quite
sure. You are mine for good, aren't you boi?" Almost crying with joy I
answered that I was indeed his and in return he grabbed my neck and
overpowered me once again with a deep kiss; so deep it nearly made me
swoon. When he was done I stood swaying in my heels, head tilted back,
eyes closed and probably looked just like the giddy, little bitch he had
so easily turned me into.
 
Daddy had come to claim me and I would never, ever be free again. I had
entered a life of permanent slavery, humiliation and pain and I had
never been happier in my entire life.
 
Chapter 10
I wasn't allowed to savor the moment for long. Wasting no
time, Daddy put a collar around my neck and reinserted my gag and
secured a leash. Then, surprising me and alarming me a great deal, he
simply led me first out into the alley and then into the street that lay
at the end of the alley, at the opposite end from where I had entered. I
was far too well-trained and far too devoted to Daddy to voice even the
slightest objection, much less try to resist, but he was taking me out
in public and I was only wearing my fetish costume: white rubber cat
suit, black gag, black collar and leash, handcuffs and red stilettos and
my imprisoned cock was completely exposed. As he walked my down the
street in full view of the world I couldn't help but emit a tiny
helpless keening of fear, humiliation and, although I hated to admit
this to myself, of submissive delight.
 
Although only a block away from the upscale financial district I had
worked in, this was definitely the seedier side of town. Strip bars and
porn shops of every description occupied the storefronts that weren't
boarded up. Prostitutes, male, female and in between, stood on corners
and in alleys and more than a few of buildings were obviously not used
for living, though they looked very much occupied. While Daddy had had
to yank my leash a few times on our way out of the alley, I now had no
trouble keeping up and tried to stay as close to him as possible.
 
Even in such a place my attire provoked comments and almost from the
second we set foot in the street, catcalls and whistles followed me.
More than a few copped a feel as I passed by and when Daddy stopped
momentarily before crossing a side street, a shemale dressed in a black
leather body suit and thigh high stiletto boots walked up and grabbed my
imprisoned cock as she said to Daddy: "That's such a cute and innocent
looking, little boi you have there." Daddy smiled and thanked and she
asked: "Would you consider selling him to me? I'll pay top dollar for
such an unspoiled specimen." As terror froze my heart Daddy smiled and
replied: "That's a fine offer, but I'm afraid that I have plans for the
bitch. Thanks though." The shemale mistress flashed a warm smile at
Daddy and the said to me: "Too bad boi. I'm quite sure you would have
loved your short and painful stay with me. I can spot a truly submissive
boi-bitch when I see one and you are the type who'll love everything
that's done to him, including getting snuffed." I started at this, but
in the background I heard Daddy chuckle as he agreed with the fearsome
shemale. "Oh, don't play coy with me boi!" she snorted, "You'd love
every second of it, even as I tightened the noose around your neck and
strangled the last submissive spasm out of you. Don't even try to deny
it!" Again Daddy chuckled and then he said goodbye to the shemale
mistress and led me down the street. Casting nervous looks across my
shoulder I saw how she looked intently at me until a small, mousy
looking woman came up to her. The next time I looked the woman was
licking the boots of the shemale mistress while taking money out of her
purse to pay her.
 
The encounter had scared me quite badly and I didn't calm down one bit
as Daddy told me that she was probably right about me. At first I was
shocked. Surely I wasn't that submissive? But then an image hit my mind
with great force: Daddy, his cock buried deep inside my incredibly
brutally bound body, with his strong hands closing inexorably around my
throat, squeezing until my convulsions had stopped. Not only was the
image immensely strong but it also made my poor cock try to grow hard. A
hopeless little sound that made Daddy chuckle even more, escaped me as I
realized that they were right. At the same time another image filled my
mind, that of the shemale mistress tightening the rope around my neck as
she fucked me.
 
It was then I realized, really realized, for the first time that my life
of slavery would not lead to a comfortable retirement, but rather to a
brutal end at the hands of Daddy. He had clearly said that he'd never
sell me, never share me and that led to only one conclusion: Sooner or
later Daddy was going to snuff me. This realization stopped me in my
tracks. The possibility, although completely logical in a sense, had
never even crossed my mind. As Daddy stopped too and saw the realization
hit me, he stepped close and said: "Of course I'll snuff you if you stay
as my slave, but I stand by my word. You will be able to leave me
anytime you wish. Just say so and I'll let you go. You'll be naked and
penniless, but I promise that if you choose to leave me, you can do so
without fear of reprisals." I found that I trusted him on that. Daddy
might take a great many things from me with force, but he wanted me to
want it too. He wanted my complete devotion; my complete and
unquestioning and total devotion. And that was something he couldn't
take, it was only something I could give.
 
As Daddy began walking again and I followed I knew that I'd never leave
him, that I'd be with him right until the moment that he ended me. He
had my devotion and I couldn't see how he could loose it again. The
worse he treated me, the more I loved him. The more he hurt me, the
deeper my devotion for him became.
 
The rest of the long walk on the wild side of town seemed like a vague
dream to me now that I had found out how far I would go for Daddy and
where my devotion to him would ultimately lead me. The fact that
perverts called out to me and grabbed my ass seemed unimportant compared
to what I had found out about Daddy and most importantly what I had
found out about myself. I was really going to be a slave for life and
that life would be short and brutal.
 
Finally Daddy led me into what I realized was Master Sebastian's fetish
shop. We must have entered it from the back, since I hadn't recognized
it from the outside. Once inside the ever fearful Mandy quickly scurried
over top greet us, or rather to greet Daddy. She led us into a small
room that looked just like a doctor's office. In the center a strange
chair was bolted to the floor. The chair's seat was more like a toilet
seat, with a large opening in the center and very narrow ledges around
on which to sit. As Mandy left to fetch Master Sebastian, Daddy
addressed me: "In a moment I am going to strip you and strap you to that
chair so that you can enjoy the first of the modifications you'll have
in order to serve as my slave." I swallowed involuntarily at this, but I
wasn't really surprised. I had suspected all along that the piercings in
my cock to hold my hated (and loved) chastity device in place would not
the last modifications Daddy would do perform on me. But now that Daddy
had openly declared what would happen to me eventually if I stayed with
him, fear gripped me as I realized that the modification might be
extreme in nature. Very extreme.
 
Daddy saw this clearly on my face and chuckled. He moved in close and
slipped one hand around my neck and asked: "Scared Doll?" Gagged as I
was, I nodded frantically. His other hand cupped my balls as he asked
again: "Afraid that I'll take those pathetic, little nuts of your's,
just like I took Mandy's?" A high-pitched whine escaped me, provoking
more laughter from Daddy. Pushing me further still, he ran his hands
down my arms and said: "Maybe I should just take your arms as well and
have your teeth pulled out too?" This time it took supreme effort on my
part to not soil myself as I screamed with lust-filled terror behind my
gag. Daddy had once again succeeded in scaring me while making my poor
imprisoned cock, the supreme symbol of my state, twitch uselessly
against its confinement.
 
His intense gaze held me in fear for a little while longer, until he
burst out laughing: "Don't worry Doll. The little operation which you'll
have in a few minutes will be very painful, but it's not time for any of
those other operations - yet." His last remark meant that I was still
almost stiff with fear as he first undid my bonds and then removed my
rubber suit, stripping me down to my red heels. Lifting me up as if I
weighed nothing at all, he deposited me in the chair a quickly strapped
me down until the only part of my body I was able to move freely was my
head. Then he explained what would be done to me: "In a minute Sebastian
is going to implant a number of tiny metal balls right beneath your skin
as close as he can possibly get to your sphincter. The balls are going
to be arranged so that they form a circle around the outer rim of your
asshole, so that you may please me more when I screw your pretty, little
ass." I had never even imagined such an operation, but when I heard
Daddy I knew that I'd love it. Not because it wouldn't be painful, in
fact I was sure that it was going to hurt me badly, but because I would
be able to better please Daddy. The thought alone made me very, very
happy and I tried to gush this out to Daddy from behind my gag. He
smiled and listened to me for a short while I mewled uselessly and then
stopped me with a slap to the face; not gentle, but not vicious either.
In fact it was the perfect way to stop a worthless slave-boi like while
showing him affection.
 
Shortly thereafter Master Sebastian showed up, dressed like a doctor but
wearing a white rubber lab coat instead of a regular one. Accompanying
was of course Mandy, now dressed as a rubber nurse; a very, very short
white rubber dress, so short in fact that you could clearly see her limp
and useless member dangling, a lead weight attached to the ring piercing
the head of it. On her feet she wore white stilettos, at least seven
inches high and on her hands were white rubber gloves. After greeting
Daddy properly her eyes seemed to focus on Master Sebastian's crotch and
it was quite clear that she was unable to tear her eyes away. Master
Sebastian made an excuse to Daddy about the uselessness of his slave and
about how we'd be better served if his hands were steady. As Daddy
nodded in agreement Master Sebastian signaled to Mandy who immediately
dropped to her knees and took out his cock with such speed and
concentration that she must have been desperate to blow him. The gusto
with which she did suck his cock pointed in the same direction and as he
came Mandy closed her eyes and moaned loudly as her pelvis did useless,
thrusting movements. As Master Sebastian stood up after she had licked
his cock clean, she stood up too, the look on her face a mixture of
intense satisfaction and intense frustration. It occurred to me that I
probably looked the same way after being fucked by Daddy.
 
After that little interlude no more time was wasted and Master Sebastian
proceeded to implant the steel balls around my sphincter. To my surprise
he actually injected a sedative into my skin and the operation itself
was just a slightly unpleasant and distant affair. When he finished with
me, he bandaged my ass as best he could and gave Daddy some advice on
how I'd heal best.
 
When we were finally finished with my first modification, Daddy dressed
me/bound me to go home. The red stilettos went on my feet and my arms
were now sealed inside a red armbinder, its straps crisscrossing my
chest. My mouth was still stuffed with the penis gag and over that Daddy
put a red rubber hood, cutting me off from the outside world. For a
moment I feared that Daddy would make me walk to the car, but as I stood
in darkness he strapped my knees and ankles together and threw me over
his shoulder. Then he carried me to his car and drove off.
 
I have no idea how long the ride was and to this day I have no idea
where Daddy lives. Inside my hood I dreamt pleasantly about brutal
punishments and fierce fuckings. When the car stopped and Daddy lifted
me out and threw me over his shoulder I was completely disoriented. Also
my ass was beginning to hurt as the sedative wore off. Not that this
stopped Daddy in any way. I had barely heard the door slam shut behind
us before he deposited me on my knees. As he tore the hood of my head
the gag out of my face, it was no mystery to me what he wanted from me
and soon I had his wonderful cock buried deep inside my face as he
fucked it with deep rhythmic strokes. As he came I swallowed his load
with the greatest delight. After that the hood went on again and Daddy
carried me down a flight stairs and injected me with a powerful
sedative.
 
For the next couple of days Daddy kept me sedated for most of the time
and I drifted in and out of consciousness while my ass healed. Daddy
substituted my armbinder with a straightjacket, but other than that he
kept me tied up the same way I had been on arrival: red stilettos, red
hood and penis gag. To make sure that I wouldn't move around, Daddy
chained my neck to the wall. This was of course a completely
unnecessary, since I had no desire at all to move around. Not only would
it harm my ass, but it would be to disobey Daddy, something I had
absolutely no desire to do.
 
When my ass had healed properly, Daddy waited until the sedative wore
off completely. Then he removed all my restraint and even my shoes and
motioned for me to follow him. It felt very, very strange to be without
even heels and I felt more naked then than I had during the entire time
I had known Daddy, perhaps even in my whole life. As I had suspected I
had been kept in a basement and now I followed Daddy up the stairs and
into a modest hallway. We turned right and entered an equally modest
living room. Here Daddy told me to kneel on the floor in front of a
comfortable looking chair, which he then sat down in. I knelt down, but
did not sit down on my legs. Instead I put my arms behind my back,
thrust my chest out and looked down demurely. I was rewarded by Daddy's
deep voice: "Good bitch," making me blush with pride and strain against
my unbreakable prison. Then he put a finger under my chin and forced me
to look up and into his eyes. He looked deeply into my eyes for a few
wonderfully painful seconds and then he addressed me: "Doll, as you know
you are now my property, body and soul." My whole body felt warm and
tingly when he said it. I had longed for this for months, perhaps even
years, probably yearning for it before I even knew my own tendencies and
now I had been claimed by my wonderful Daddy. "As I've said before,
Doll," he continued, "I will share you with no one. As my slave you'll
never leave this house again." A cold finger of fear touched my spine as
Daddy went on: "You may leave at any time you wish, the door can always
be opened from the inside and you need not fear me if you leave, but you
will be on your own without papers or money and I'll never take you back
again. But I repeat: you can leave anytime you want to. Understood,
Doll? You may speak to answer." In my most timid voice I answered that I
had indeed understood. Daddy nodded at this wile still holding my gaze
as he had during the whole speech. "As you are mine Doll, you should
have no illusions as to what kind of a man I am, how I'll treat you or
what is going to happen to you." I was feeling very nervous, a mixture
of the knowledge that I'd done the right thing in giving myself up to
Daddy and fear of the inevitably painful consequences of doing so.
 
"I'm a brutal and selfish man and I'll take all my aggression out on you
and I don't care if you've done anything to deserve it. I'll use you as
my punching bag, my torture doll, my fucktoy and sometimes also as my
toilet. Most of the time you be bruised and battered and I'll expect you
to smile nonetheless. I'll give you nothing but pain and humiliation and
in return I expect absolute love and devotion and absolute perfection in
complying with the orders I give. You are a worthless shit. A useless,
pathetic and disgusting piece of slave-meat and I have chosen you
because you not only deserve the worst treatment possible; you want it.
You crave to be abused and beaten for no good reason and this is exactly
the place for you: Here you'll give everything you've got and more. What
is required of you is no less than your life and you will get nothing
but pain back. This is what you've wanted all along." It sounded
terrible, horrifying - magnificent. As Daddy finished the sentence my
breath was coming in short excited gasps and my face felt flushed. In my
crotch my desperately need member emitted a small, slimy stream of
pre-cum and I had never felt so afraid or so alive and excited in my
life. "You'll never leave this house again and you'll be completely cut
off from the outside world: no TV, no Internet, no phone. No news, no
books, no magazines. I won't allow you to look out the windows to the
street and you can't see through the heavy drapes even if you wanted to.
The house has a small backyard where you'll work on your tan, but it's
walled in and you won't be able to look out. You'll have one rubber
uniform and it's the only thing you'll ever wear again. For the rest of
your life you'll wear stilettos all the time. You'll of course clean and
cook for me, but you won't eat the same food as me. You are still a
very, very strict vegan and you'll still only drink plain tap water and
the fluids that come out of my cock. Since you are forbidden to have any
pleasure in food, fruits are forbidden too." An involuntary whimper of
lust and terror escaped me, earning me a stern look from Daddy, but
instead of punishing me at once he just continued: "The only pleasure
you are allowed, is the pleasure of giving yourself up to me. When it
suits me I'll make further modifications to your body; dramatic
modifications, and when I eventually tire of you and find a new slave,
I'll simply snuff you and that will be the end of that. In return for
this, in return for this favor I'm doing for a useless slave-shit like
you, I expect your love and complete and utter devotion."
 
At no time had he broken eye-contact with me, a powerful experience in
itself, and after hearing him calmly outline my fate, I was shivering
with lust and outright terror. I knew what he was going to ask me now
and I knew what my answer, my unconditional answer, would be and that
scared me most of all. "So Doll, are you in?" This time he didn't need
to say that I could speak. My mind had been made up for a long time, but
it still took some doing to answer him. Nonetheless I did so without
hesitation: "Yes, Daddy, I'm in. I love you and I want to yours no
matter what you do to me. Thank you for giving me the chance to please
you." Daddy nodded silently and threw me a small bundle of clothes for
me to wear; the only outfit I'd wear from then on. As one might expect
it was simple: A very thin and tight, pink T-shirt made of rubber
clearly showing my lack of masculinity. Also pink and equally thin, but
much tighter were the rubber hotpants to cover tight little ass and
expose my imprisoned member. Finally I was to wear a pair of ankle high,
pink boots also made of rubber and sporting an ultra-thin metal heel,
seven inches high. As I knelt in front of Daddy again, now dressed
properly and feeling very lucky and very sexy (and very horny also),
Daddy held up a strip of thin white plastic in front of my eyes. "To
remind a white-collar bitch who has caught it." With those words Daddy
secured the collar for that was what it was, around my neck, stood up
and motioned for me to follow him. We walked into his bedroom and I knew
what was going to happen. Soon I was once again naked, but this time I
still wore my new stilettos. I straddled Daddy, balancing on the bed in
my seven-inch heels, sliding up and down Daddy's magnificent pole while
I moaned and screamed just like he wanted me to. Even though my modified
ass hurts terribly as he fucks me, I scream with genuine pleasure as I
feel how much better my grip on Daddy's cock is and how that must please
him. As he cums his hands close around my throat and I relish in his
brutal touch even as it cuts off my breath. I love Daddy.
 
Chapter 11
After Daddy had brought me home and made me his for good, my
life settled into a fixed routine. A painful, humiliating and intensely
demanding routine, but a routine nonetheless. I sleep with Daddy every
night, naked except for my stilettos. Either in bed with him or under it
if he kicks me out. During the night I of course perform anything he
wants me to; just like all other hours of the day. Sometimes all he
wants is a blowjob and other times he needs to beat me up and piss on
me, filling my mouth up. It doesn't matter to me. Any attention from
Daddy is good and I relish in it, just like ordered to.
 
An hour before it's time to wake up Daddy, my alarm goes off and I rise
to prepare his breakfast and his bath, should he want it. So as not to
wake up Daddy, the alarm is an electric buzzer shoved up my ass, giving
me short but painful shocks when its time for me to rise. It took me
several weeks to get used to this; to not wake up screaming from the
pain, but brutal and prolonged punishments taught me to control that
particular pain.
 
Before preparing Daddy's breakfast I prepare myself, making sure that I
am acceptable to Daddy. I eat a simple breakfast of a slice stale bread
and a carrot, washing it down with either water or cold urine, tapped
from Daddy the night before. Then I brush my teeth and take a dump.
Since I am only a worthless piece of slave-meat, I'm not allowed to sit
down on the toilet. Rather I have to squat over the toilet so that my
ass doesn't touch the porcelain. After that I administer three enemas to
myself so that I may be clean for Daddy. This is easily the worst part
of my morning preparations and I'm sure I'll never get used to filling
myself up with cold, soapy water. Once my insides are clean, I take a
shower. I step out of my pink stilettos and into a pair of open-toed,
clear plastic sandals, also seven inches high. These are better suited
for the water and I quickly step into the shower and take my cold bath.
As a slave I am of course not allowed to use hot water, but to make sure
that I get properly clean, Daddy has commanded that I must stay under
the stream of cold water for at least ten minutes. When it is finally
over I am always shivering like mad.
 
I then dry myself and slip on my miniscule uniform and prepare the
shower for Daddy in case he should want to start the day with one. Then
I mince into the kitchen and prepare whatever Daddy told me to the night
before. Carrying a tray with his breakfast I walk as softly as I
possibly can into the bedroom, deposit the tray on the night table and
slip under his covers at the foot of the bed. As softly and quietly as
possible I then worm my way into Daddy's crotch area where I gently,
ever so gently grasp his cock and put it into my mouth. As gently as I
know how, which after many punishments is very gentle indeed, I begin
sucking Daddy's cock until he wakes up. Usually he then starts the day
by pissing into my mouth, a morning ritual I have come to love far
beyond what I thought possible. I love it because it proves how low I
am; yet also proves how I provide service for the man I love. It keeps
me in place, asserts Daddy's power over me and it provides an
opportunity at the break of the day to prove my love. After swallowing
his urine I always blow Daddy, something I have loved since we met the
first time and as I receive a fountain of his cum in my mouth I can't
help but hum out my devotion.
 
After breakfast and whichever morning routine he chooses, Daddy leaves
for work and I am left alone for the day. During the day I make sure
that the house is clean and that everything is in order for Daddy's
return in the evening, including dinner. But these chores do not take up
much time. Daddy's tastes in food are simple and straight forward,
steaks and such, and the house is not very big. It consists of a
bedroom, a room that Daddy uses as an office, a kitchen, a bathroom and
a living room. From the living room I can reach the backyard and it is
the only way to get to this. The backyard is surrounded by walls more
than ten feet tall and there are no buildings around Daddy's house that
can see into the backyard. As a consequence I can't see anything above
the walls but blue sky. I use the backyard for one thing and one thing
only; to work on the perfect tan required by Daddy. I spend many hours
positioning my naked body to get the perfect, even tan.
 
Under the house is a spacious basement, which Daddy has essentially
converted to a dungeon. When Daddy is home many of my hours are spent
down there, usually screaming and begging.
 
All the rooms of the house are centered around a modest hallway, which
of course is where the front door is placed. I fear the front door.
Should I ever pass through it, my life with Daddy would be over and it
is a thought I can't bear. Yet at the same time I long to see what is
behind it. As promised Daddy keeps me completely cut off from the
outside world; I don't even know where his house is. He has no books, no
magazines and when he watches TV, listens to the radio or uses the
Internet, I always have my ears plugged and am hooded. I have learned to
my way around the house in complete darkness and silence to near
perfection. When Daddy watches TV or uses the Internet, I fetch him
drinks and such and of course provide him with whatever service he needs
or wants and I do so hooded and with my ears plugged. I know just how
many steps there are to the kitchen and I have learned, through a great
many punishing lessons, that three hard squeezes on my left testicles,
followed by five to my right testicle, that this means that Daddy wants
beer. He has taught me a multitude of signals - all very painful to me.
And of course I know how to drop to my knees and stick up my ass when he
wants to take me.
 
So the front door is the only, tiny window to the outside world. Daddy
has of course thought of this too. When I hear his key in the lock I
have to move away from the hallway so that I can't catch a glimpse of
what's outside. This makes my isolation complete and so I sometimes find
myself standing in the hallway during the day, after completing the
housework of course. I find myself standing four or five feet from the
door, gazing at it intently and when I do, I quickly scamper off to the
living room. I am very much afraid that I'll succumb to the temptation
of looking, weak slave-boi that I am, and since that would mean leaving
Daddy I simply can't do it.
 
When my housework is done for the day I usually have several hours to
spend before Daddy gets home. First thing I do is to work out. Daddy has
installed a step-machine in the dungeon for me and I spend about an hour
on it each day so that my very skinny legs look pleasing to Daddy. I
have special pair of workout stilettos for the machine, a pair of
seven-inch, black Oxfords, but apart from the steel cage around my cock
they are all I wear when I work up a sweat for Daddy. I wash the sweat
off with yet another cold shower before eating lunch, as always a modest
affair consisting mostly of raw vegetables. If I am lucky Daddy has left
me a pint of urine to wash my lunch down with, but mostly I drink plain
water. My workout and lunch complete I spend a few hours tanning if the
weather is good enough, which it usually is. After tanning I usually
watch one or more of the DVD's Daddy has left for me. Of course this
requires turning on the TV, but again Daddy has prevented me from seeing
regular programs on the TV. All the regular channels are protected by a
code I don't know it. The DVD's I watch are of course porn, a constant
reminder of the orgasm I am denied. In the soft core movies I watch
slave-bois getting bound and screwed senseless by their masters, many of
the bois cuming while being punished brutally. I am quite sure that
these movies are regarded as hard core outside Daddy's house, but here
they are positively vanilla. The movies I call hard core are much, much
more brutal. Many of them feature Daddy's friends Master Rob, Master
Sebastian and Mistress Rowena and are brutal films, quite a few ending
with the slave being killed or at the very least maimed. Of course these
films do not show the faces of the torturers, but I recognize them all
the same. Master Rob is not a man to forget and before Daddy imprisoned
me here in his house, I spent many hours in the hands of both Master
Sebastian and Mistress Rowena. The thought of her stiletto brutalizing
my balls still makes me shiver with fear. So far I've seen twelve films
featuring Master Rob that have all the same basic outline; following a
slave from the moments Master Rob catches him until he disposes of him.
While the tortures differ in all the films, one thing is constant in all
of them: the castration of him slaves. It's always done in the same way,
just like I witnessed first hand when Daddy took me to the party. The
slave is strapped down kneeling on a table. Master Rob asks him whether
he wants to go through with is; if he really wants to be the property of
Master Rob. Invariably the slave answers "yes". Master Rob then strokes
the slave until he cums, screaming with delight, and then takes the
balls while the slave is still enjoying the afterglow. It has been years
since my last orgasm and perversely I have found myself wishing that
Daddy would do the same to me, so that I may at least experience one
more orgasm. I have come to realize that it is extremely unlikely that
Daddy will ever allow me to cum again. Even right before he snuffs me, I
find it improbable that he will allow me to cum. He is much too strict
and I am much too useless for such a favor.
 
Watching the DVD's I have also found out about the fate of some of the
slaves I met while Daddy still showed me to the world. The slave Master
Rob castrated while I watched, was indeed killed just like Daddy
predicted and although something similar will happen to me unless I
decide to leave Daddy, which I simple can't imagining happening, I was
extremely aroused by his end. Watching him writhe and jerk as he was
strangled made me want to experience the same thing. Daddy has noticed
my strange attraction to strangulation and uses it mercilessly to scare
and arouse me when he fucks and tortures me. A noose around my neck or a
plastic bag over my head makes me go wild with passion and if Daddy
really wants to have me move my ass with extra vigor all he has to do is
one of those things.
 
When not watching DVD's, working out or taking care of the housework, I
sometimes spend hours in front of the mirror, looking at what I have
become. I strip naked, except for my heels and my collar - and of course
the hated and much loved chastity device - and stand in front of a full
length mirror Daddy has mounted on a wall in the basement. While I love
the sight of my owned and brutally dominated body, I am also often
gripped by a feeling of terror and wonder at what Daddy has turned me
into. I am quite sure that my old colleagues would have a very hard time
recognizing me.
 
I am thin, very thin, though not actually emaciated. It doesn't quite
look like I've been starving for years, but if my ass was any skinnier
it would. My ass has a bit of feminine roundness and my legs have a bit
a muscle tone since I work out to achieve just that, but it's not much.
Both are still quite skinny. My ribs are clearly visible and I have a
very flat stomach and even a slim waistline, so slim that it looks like
I've engaged in corset training. I haven't of course; I've just been on
a very strict diet for years. My arms and wrists are also very thin,
with almost no muscles in them. This a result of a decision Daddy made
on my behalf when I arrived. For a period of almost three months I
minced around with my arms doubled up behind my back, locked away inside
a plaster cast. When the cast was removed most my arm muscles had wasted
away and I was hardly able to lift my arms at all. Daddy then issued a
set of instructions as to how I was to perform my chores and the
instructions mean that I hardly use my arm muscles and so remain very
weak, my arms thin and useless. I do, however, have enough muscles in my
arms to stroke Daddy and his wonderful cock for hours on end.
 
As I stand there in front of the mirror I let my hands caress my naked
body, always bruised or wounded in some way. When Daddy has met with any
kind of frustration, any kind at all, he takes it out on me when he gets
home. More often than not he beats me, fucks me and punishes me just to
blow off steam. Within ten minutes of his arrival I'll be on the floor
of the hallway, pleading and begging as he punches me and kicks me
before moving on to things much more painful.
 
There is always something to punish me for and even if there wasn't,
Daddy would still brutalize me just for fun. Being what I am, I love him
dearly for it. The few days during the time he has owned me, that he
hasn't inflicted pain on me have always left me trembling with
uncertainty. Doesn't he desire me anymore? Have I become unattractive or
have I failed him somehow? I invariably end up begging him to please
hurt me and he always does. My ribs have been cracked several times and
both my arms have been broken several times, just as his punches have
removed several of my teeth and rendered me practically deaf on one ear.
Of course this abuse has never excused me from my duties and I have
gladly carried out my chores with a broken arm and several cracked ribs;
smiling at the excruciating pain in the knowledge that Daddy has done
this to me, that someone as worthless as me is still owned by such a
wonderful Master.
 
Chapter 12
I fondly remember all of this as I sit on Daddy's couch,
occasionally touching my trapped genitals, without and orgasm for more
than three years. I sit here thinking because Daddy has ordered me to do
so. For a full week I have not performed any chores around the house
during the daytime hours when Daddy is away. Instead I have been sitting
on the couch thinking about my future with Daddy, just as he has ordered
me to. The reason for this is brutally simple: Daddy wants to castrate
me. Or rather he wants to pull out all of my teeth and castrate me, but
my teeth seem completely irrelevant compared to my balls. As always
Daddy wants my consent to this; he wants me to ask for it or to leave
him and so he has ordered me to think it over for a full week.
 
The decision is a no-brainer for me: I must belong to Daddy, whatever
the cost. I am nothing without him and I there is nothing - nothing - I
wouldn't do to belong to him, nothing I wouldn't put up with to be with
him. Even if he decided to use me as a toilet, and scat is the worst of
all for me, I'd gladly do it as long as just some of the shit might be
his.
 
But regardless of the fact that Daddy knows my position and that it will
not change, he as ordered me to think it over. And so that it what I
have done for the past week. I have no regrets. I would have loved to
have met Daddy earlier, but that is all. I have been treated as brutally
as possible by this most demanding of men and the more I think about it,
the more I love him for it.
 
But Daddy has given me something to think about, something to "help with
my decision" as he called it. It is an old fashioned photo album and its
many, many pictures describe my past life with Daddy and it outlines my
future with him. It contains five complete picture stories of all of
Daddy's past slaves and one incomplete story: mine. I am the sixth of
the slaves that Daddy has chosen to treat like this and as I knew from
the start; this is going to end up with me getting strangled by Daddy.
 
All the picture sets start the same way: with a photo of Daddy's slave
to be taken with from some distance. There is only one such photo per
slave and it is the only one of the slave in a non-owned context. Mine
is me in my business suit coming out of the bank. I can hardly remember
ever being or looking like that. I seem to be self confident or at least
completely unaware of my own worthlessness. After that first photo, the
sets depict slaves moving further and further into complete and utter
slavery until they are nothing but owned flesh; property. Then the next
phase sets in and I see the photos of slave-bois in tiny rubber outfits
and stilettos like the ones I wear now. In these photos the slave
becomes thinner and thinner and more and more beaten, scarred and
bruised. Then they are castrated and have their teeth removed and
finally there is whole set of photos from their final session, the one
where Daddy strangles them.
 
The first one on the album is a gorgeous young Hispanic man with black
hair, large and beautiful brown eyes, fine features and a full, kissable
mouth. In the first photo he looks like a construction foreman of some
sort, desperately handsome in a tight, white T-shirt and tight jeans.
 
The photos then depict his descent into complete slavery, one
particularly fine picture that made me whine with lust, shows him on all
fours wearing only black seven-inch stilettos as he's being fisted by
Daddy. His fine, light-brown skin is already marked by old bruises and
he's completely hairless. He is not bound in any way, but his cock is
permanently imprisoned in the same kind of tube I now wear and on the
picture I can see pre-cum dripping from the tip of the tube. Daddy is
almost invisible in the picture; only the clear outline of his forearm,
reaching almost up the ribcage of his slave is visible. All this is
extremely sexy to look at, but what makes the photo great is his face.
It is completely red and his eyes are wide open, staring straight ahead,
almost ready to pop out of his face. His mouth is also wide open in a
silent scream and finally his tongue sticks out, as if he is signaling
for Daddy to push his arm all the way out. He looks like he'd drop dead
if it got any better; like Daddy brutalizing him is the best thing in
the whole world, like I know it is.
 
In the final photo he is quite dead. His body is painfully thin and
bears the marks of a very, very hard and demanding slave-life, one
filled with brutal and unending punishments. He is extremely tightly
bound with many, many narrow leather straps and on his feet are a pair
of black, stiletto boots with seven-inch heels. He has been asphyxiated
by Daddy's cock held deep down his throat for a long time and in that
final photo that is where he's still at.
 
The photo series of the second one starts with a picture of a young
black man in an obviously expensive business suit getting out of a very,
very exclusive looking sports car. In the passenger seat of the car sits
a beautiful black woman dressed in a designer suit and wearing quite a
bit of jewelry. The photo is shot in the parking lot of what looks like
an exclusive country club. The young man is very attractive and looks
happy and very much on top of the world. It is not the only picture in
which he looks happy, but in all the other pictures he has something
very large shoved up his ass or is being beaten severely.
 
Two pictures of him are especially good: In the first one, which must
have been taken before he took up permanent residence with Daddy, he is
being fucked at both ends, Daddy pounding his ass and another very
muscular man is pounding his face. His arms are tied in a back-prayer
and his entire body is covered with red welt from a very recent
whipping. His is of course wearing high heels: white seven-inch
stilettos with metal heels and they make him look so much like cheap
whore that I squirm uneasily every time I see the picture. His legs are
doubled up, tied with thick rubber straps and he is balancing on his
knees, pinned between the two masters fucking him senseless. Naturally
his cock is imprisoned in the same kind of cage that I'm wearing and his
balls are stretched viciously by a lead weight tied around his scrotum.
His mouth and throat are filled to capacity and his eyes are huge and
panicky and look up at the man pounding his face imploringly. Those eyes
make me whimper with lust.
 
In the second good photo of Daddy's second slave, he has just been
castrated. He is tied down in Daddy's gynecological examination chair,
which I recognize from his basement, and in his crotch is a fresh wound,
neatly stitched, where his balls once were. His legs are doubled up and
tied down tightly so that they would have been out of the way when Daddy
removed his balls. His cock, still pierced but free of its cage for the
first time in years, is very, very erect and is dripping pre-cum. I
guess the hormones are still in his body as his testicles have only just
been removed.
 
The chair has very little in way of a seat and instead he is "sitting"
on a giant dildo. His upper body is tied down with many straps and bears
the marks of long and hard abuse and it is all very, very sexy. But as
with the other photos it is his face that makes the picture great. His
head is turned sideways and he is sucking Daddy's cock with obvious
devotion. His cheeks are delightfully sunken as he sucks and fresh tears
can be seen rolling down them as he looks up at Daddy with a look
holding it all: love, pain, humiliation, degradation and complete and
utter devotion.
 
In his final photo he is hanging from noose made of very thin steel
wire. He is naked except for a pair of white stilettos and his arms are
bound behind his back. His face is swollen and his eyes about to pop out
of his face, as is his tongue. Down the inside of his thigh a stream of
cum can be seen running.
 
The third and fourth of Daddy's slaves were Hispanic and Asian looking
respectively. Their pictures are just as brutal and exciting as those
taken of the first two and like slave number two these two also have
girlfriends on their arms in the first picture.
 
The fifth and final slave Daddy had before me is truly remarkable
because I know the slave-boi. Or rather I know of him, since his
disappearance was in all the papers. His name was Clarence Witherspoon
III and he was a wealthy heir who disappeared more than eight years ago.
In his first picture he is posing for photographers outside the opera, a
gorgeous socialite on his arm. In the pictures that follow it becomes
quite clear that the man led a double life as Daddy's slave. There are
more photos of him than of any other slave and I get the impression that
his relationship with Daddy lasted longer than those of the others and
indeed mine will. Daddy clearly subjected Clarence to much greater
variety of humiliations and tortures than he has subjected me or any of
the other to.
 
There are pictures of Clarence screaming in the hands of Master Rob,
Clarence's balls being trampled by Mistress Rowena and Clarence eating
shit straight from the ass of Master Sebastian's slave, Mandy. There are
quite a few pictures of Clarence as a pony with Daddy riding him in all
possible ways. In a series of shots, Clarence is tied up on all fours,
his feet in ballet boots and his body sealed in rubber. His is obviously
a doggy boi-bitch and in the pictures he's being used as such.
 
In the second half of the many pictures with Clarence, he is no longer
being used by others than Daddy and his body, once well-groomed even
when beaten, becomes thinner and thinner and more and more scarred and
battered. There are many wonderful pictures of him being fisted by Daddy
and an equal number of him struggling for air, his head encased in a
plastic bag.
 
Daddy obviously kept him longer and tortured him harder than any of the
others. Before he was castrated like the rest Daddy removed first his
hands and then his arms altogether. There is a picture of him looking
incredulously down at his missing hands. He is wearing a pair of pink
ballet boots, heels easily nine inches high, pink rubber hotpants and a
pink rubber top. His collar is steel and he is holding his arms out in
front of him looking at the place his hands once were. In the photos
where his arms have been removed he is very thin, but looks at the
camera with true submissive pride - when the pictures are not of him
screaming his head off or having his ass stuffed full of Daddy's
forearm. Once his balls have been replaced with a slave ring made of
steel, he looks much more subdued but still he casts the camera loving
looks.
 
In his final picture he sits on one pole, the outline of which is
clearly seem on his abdomen, while he is strapped to another, bigger
pole behind him. He is still wearing his pink ballet boots, but his legs
have been broken in the most horrifying manner, doubled up the wrong way
at the knee and strapped together, shin to thigh. His body bears the
markings of prolonged and very brutal torture and he has of course been
strangled. Daddy has garotted him using a very broad leather strap and
the result is that it looks like his head has been almost squeezed off.
His eyes have almost left his face which is completely purple and his
protruding tongue is covered with Daddy's cum, which has dribbled onto
his tiny, limp cock, which in turn has been nailed with five large nails
to the pole.
 
I feel suddenly and viscously envious of Clarence. It is obvious that
Daddy loved him much more than he ever did any of the rest of us slaves.
He had him longer, treated him worse and tortured him far worse than he
has ever done to me and I envy him so much for it. I wish I could
command Daddy's affection like Clarence had, get the same kind of brutal
attention Clarence did. I look at Clarence's legs and think of the
brutal affection it took for Daddy to do that to him, how much love he
commanded from Daddy for him to treat him with such outrageous violence.
 
When I first saw the pictures of Clarence I considered for the first
time since Daddy caught me, whether or not I should stay with him.
Whether it wouldn't be better for me to leave him, even if it meant that
I'd most likely have to live the rest of my life as a slave-boi for
rent. I had no hope of ever being loved like Clarence was, so what was
the point of staying?
 
Then I turned the pages of the picture book and came to Daddy's pictures
of me. There are nowhere near as many of me as there is of Clarence, but
there are just as many of me as there is of any of the others. I can't
remember all of those moments, not even half of them. But I do remember
how those scenes of torture, abuse and humiliation made me feel. They
made me feel special, made me feel despised and loved by Daddy, gave me
the best feeling in the world: the feeling of being owned by Daddy, of
being nothing - nothing but what he made me into. One picture in
particular underlines this. It is simple and does, somewhat
surprisingly, not depict torture or some sort of sexual abuse. It is a
simple picture of me in my pink rubber uniform and pink stiletto boots,
standing at attention, my head demurely bowed, with a tray on which
stands a beer for Daddy. I am not as sexy or as brutally tortured and
dominated as Clarence, but I am just as devoted as him and for all the
same reasons. Daddy has taken me and made me his and his vicious
nonchalance, his terrifying brutality and indifference to my well-being
has fulfilled all my slave dreams. He'll never love me like he did
Clarence and I'll never be as sexily dominated as him, but I am already
brutally dominated and Daddy has already made me irrevocably his and I
love Daddy dearly for it. And that is enough. I am Daddy's and I will
remain so until the bitter end, enduring whatever torture and
humiliation he might chose to subject me to. I love Daddy.
 
So when Daddy returns tonight I'll be waiting for him with my answer.
I'll throw myself at his feet, kiss his boots fondly and tell him that I
wish to belong to him no matter what. That he can take my balls, take
me, take whatever he likes. I am sure he'll smile contemptuously and say
that of course he'll take whatever he likes. And then I'll be just
another sexless slave-boi, now with even less possibility for enjoyment
left in the world. I'll have one thing left, the only thing I've really
had these past few years: my love for Daddy and my boundless willingness
to please him.
 
Epilogue
It is now many months since Daddy castrated me and pulled out
my teeth and I have not regretted in any way. I am Daddy's property and
that is as it should be. My mouth is now a smooth sheath for Daddy's
weapon and it gives me enormous pleasure to feel him slide it home, deep
down into my defenseless throat. Where my balls once were is now a large
steel ring, used not primarily for torture or restraint but as a
constant reminder of what I am. It is heavy and I can never escape the
inevitable sense of loss it invokes, which is of course just what Daddy
wants.
 
Daddy has again shown me the photo book and I have seen the pictures of
my castration. They are so very hot and even though it was easily the
most painful and degrading experience of my life, because of it in fact,
they excite me enormously. My tiny, nearly limp and still heavily
pierced cock stirs and tries unsuccessfully to get hard every time I see
those pictures. One is particularly good: I am strapped down in Daddy's
gynecological examination chair. My calves are strapped to my thighs and
my feet with their pink stiletto boots dangle sexily in the air. My legs
are pulled as wide and far back as they can be, exposing my crotch as
much as possible. My body is held firmly by at least seven straps and I
sit, not on a seat but on a giant dildo-pole, which can be seen clearly
filling me up. There is no bandage obscuring the view of my empty crotch
as Daddy used a strange and very painful spray to cauterize the wound.
Instead you can clearly see the stitches where my balls once were and
equally visible is the newly inserted steel ring, the one that has now
taken the place of my manhood as a constant reminder of my lack of worth
and inadequacy.
 
My head is turned up and to the side and here too there is no blood from
the removal of my teeth. The only liquid visible in the picture is that
of my tears flowing freely down my face. I am looking up if nothing else
because my face is forced upwards as Daddy deep-throats me, the outline
of his cock visible disturbingly far down my throat. Although Daddy's
weapon is forced into my mouth all the way to the hilt, my lips
enveloping the root of his tool and touching his abdomen, and I am far
too close to his body to see his face, my eyes are turned upwards,
begging, pleading and desperately trying to signal my love, devotion and
utter submission.
 
I can still remember that feeling of glorious defeat, of being made even
less worth and giving up even more of myself to Daddy. I remember
Daddy's cock in my throat as he held it there, choking me, demanding
even more of me than I had already given. Completely unable to move,
except for a pathetic twitching of my high heeled feet, pinned down by
not only straps and Daddy's weapon in my throat, but also by my own
devotion, I remember wanting dearly to thank Daddy and then being unable
to do even that because of the cock in my throat.
 
That was many months ago and since then things have only gotten worse
for me. My cock can now twitch a tiny bit when very excited and its
limpness combined with the terrible weight of my slave ring presses my
worthlessness home every day. But that is the very least of it. It is
clear to me now that my castration served another purpose, besides
pleasing Daddy and renewing his sadistic interest tin me. It served to
bind me even more completely to Daddy as my life as a slave, indeed my
very life, entered its final phase.
 
Although Daddy's offer that I can leave him anytime I want to still
stands and the door is still open, the chance of me doing it has been
reduced even more by my castration. Before it I would have been a
severely controlled, punished and penniless slave-boi cast out into an
unfriendly world and I would no doubt have had to make my living as
street whore of some kind, in all likelihood a short and brutal life,
but I would have had a small chance. Now even that tiny chance has been
reduced to almost nothing. One thing is the fact that my teeth and balls
are no longer mine and that I as such am even more useless and
defenseless, but the effect on my mind is far greater. My castration has
not only rammed home my own uselessness and thus made me even more
unlikely to escape, but the lack of hormones produced in my testicles
has made me even more docile and submissive, although I would have sworn
that that was impossible.
 
So the reason for my castration is clearly not only to please Daddy by
its brutality and final nature, but to keep me as his slave. And of
course there is another good reason for this. Over the past few months I
have seen less and less of Daddy and he has paid me less and less
attention. I now often stand naked in front of the mirror and look at my
very thin, scarred, bruised and battered body and pray that tonight
he'll torture me again, put fresh bruises on the old scars or perhaps
even fuck me so hard that I get a concussion. But these are only
fantasies. I usually blow him or at least drink Daddy's urine once a
day, but I haven't had a real fucking I weeks and it's been months since
he tortured me good.
 
I am not in the least bit surprised at this development. I knew that my
time with Daddy was running out and that it would only be a matter of
time before he found a new boi. And apparently he now has found a new
one. He is rarely home at night, passing this way only to pick up new
clothes or take a shower. I remember how he almost lived in my apartment
when he took over my life all those years ago. I wonder who the new boi
is and how he looks, but I know better than to ask. It is not my place
to do so. I must simply wait until Daddy decides to discard me. I owe
Daddy this for all the wonderful things he has done for me. That and I
desperately hope that he will once again show me the brutal attention I
crave so badly.
 
He has still not shown me his special brand of violent affection, but at
least I now know that it is not far away. Three weeks ago my chores were
reduced drastically and now I clean up the house every four days, a task
completed in less than two hours. The rest of the time I have been
commanded to think by position over - again. Daddy has made no secret of
the fact that he wishes to torture me severely before strangling me and
thus end our relationship. I have known this for years, but still the
thought of actually getting snuffed makes my insides all blubbery and I
now very grateful that Daddy ordered me to constantly wear a diaper in
these last few weeks. I have already soiled myself several times when
thinking it over and the matter is not improved when I look again at the
material Daddy has given me to "assist me in my decision". The pictures
are the same as before, but then I was more focused on the pictures of
castrated slave-boi than of snuffed slaves, whereas now I know that
unless I leave I will end up just as Daddy's past slaves: strangled
after a prolonged and vicious torture session.
 
In the end the decision is just as easy as the decision to let Daddy
take my teeth and my balls. I belong to Daddy and I owe him everything.
Without him I am nothing, so why should I try going on without him? If
he wants to strangle me and if that pleases him, then that is not only
my duty but my pleasure. I exist only to please Daddy. I will remove my
diaper and wait by the door so that he knows that my only wish is to
please him.
 
Daddy has done everything to me that I ever dared hope for. I have no
idea if he has tortured me only for hours or if he has been at it for
days and it doesn't matter. When I look down my body I see the same
thing Clarence must have seen right before he was garotted. My tiny limp
cock is nailed to the pole that fills me up to the point where my
insides are irrevocably damaged and through the haze of extreme pain I
can see the soles of my stilettos pointing upwards, my legs strapped
shin to thigh. The intensity of the torture has surpassed even what
Daddy displayed when he first took me and I would thank him if I could.
But my voice has been ruined by frantic screaming and now I have run out
of time and air. Some time ago, minutes or hours I don't know, Daddy
showed me the broad, white leather belt that he now using to garotte me
with. I can't breathe, my whole body screams for air, spots are
appearing in front of my eyes and I'd convulse if I had any movement
left. But I am far too well tied and far too broken to move anything but
my head and even my movement of that is limited. As I twitch I feel more
than see Daddy slide his weapon into my wide open mouth, into my
toothless hole and begin to fuck my face as the final convulsion wrack
my body. I love Daddy.
 
THE END
 
If you liked the story, please let me know which parts you liked most
at: story_2nn@yahoo.com
 
Review_This_Story || Email Author: 2nn


****** MORE_BDSM_STORIES_@_SEX_STORIES_POST ******