The rest of the afternoon was a strange, nightmarish blur. I know it lasted for hours, well into the evening, but I only remember bits and pieces of it; hazy moments like dim shadows on concrete walls, the lone survivors of a nuclear bomb.
I remember him dragging me out of the shower. I was already exhausted, drained, and sore from being forcibly milked for nearly an hour, but he was only just beginning. I was pushed against the wall of his bedroom, naked and dripping wet right back to being cold again. I went slack and just watched as he reached into the top drawer of his dresser, rooting around with one eye on me. He found them quick and yanked my arms behind me, locking my wrists together in a pair of cold metal handcuffs - then I was back against the wall, and he was back to rooting around his dresser...until he found a bottle of pills, and swallowed one dry...until he'd found an odd little noise of studded black leather, and strapped it tight around the base of his giant, swinging cock.
Seconds later I was on the bed, on my back -- and he was bending my knees, pushing my heels into my hamstrings just below my buttocks -- then tightly binding my calves against my thighs with loop after loop of cobalt-colored climbing rope, knots like gnarled gourds between. My blood was pulsing in my thighs, my groin, straining to push itself into the rest of my legs -- and then I was yanked around and shoved face-first into the mattress. My legs had been transformed into heavy, useless stumps ending at the knee, toes curling in fear as his hands wrenched my thighs apart and slathered the entire crack of my ass with cool, slippery lube.
"Don't worry, boy," he growled into my ear, punching his fingers into my defenseless ass, lubing me up in the roughest possible way. "This was gonna happen anyway. I was gonna work up to it...make you want it more...but you had to go and win that
stupid -- fucking -- bet."
I snarled and panted through gritted teeth as he fucked his fingers into my hole with each word. "You just moved the timetable up, that's all. Hope you still think it was worth it, whenever we get around to your faggy little dinner date tonight...now...are you ready to take what I'm gonna give you?"
"Yes..." I whimpered. There was no reason to simply act like I was his slave; he had turned it into a physical reality. "Let's just...get it over with, please...sir."
"Oh, baby boy...poor little pup..." His fingers were kind for a moment, massaging me easy from the inside out. "I don't think you know what this is. Once I start...I'm not gonna stop for a long, long time. This is me
breaking
you, boy...this is the
main -- fuckin -- course..."
I wasn't able to answer him, but that was exactly what he wanted to hear.
He hauled my body around to face him, and I shrieked at the sudden pain of two wooden clothespins clamping down around both of my nipples at once. They pulsed like burning embers under the constant, merciless intensity of the pressure, quickly becoming part of me. He rubbed the firm meat of my hairy pecs between them -- licking his teeth as the pale skin of my heaving chest quickly blossomed into shifting shades of dazzling red -- gorging his palms on the frantic pounding of my heart beneath the bone.
The pain was so dominant, so severe, that I hadn't noticed his cock punching up into my sloppy ass like an old friend. He flicked the clothespins to make me bellow and arch my spine away from his hips -- then ground his fingers into my belly to make me sputter and crunch my abs right down into his hands...only to attack my nipples again -- again -- then back to my belly, nipples, belly, on and on...at some point, I realized I'd been rigidly fucking myself on his shaft the entire time, to his lecherous amusement...
He was holding my legs open after he'd exhausted my like that, and then I felt a tight, stretching pressure around my ballsack...and saw him stuffing my poor balls into a tiny leather noose, similar to the one around his cock...but made to pull my balls away from my body and keep them there, easily accessible instead of retreating into my groin like they normally did. He'd turned my sack into something like a pink, fleshy mushroom, my balls tight and aching and trapped at its head, scrotum stretching to its limit...cock shriveled and ignored below...
I found myself bent over his lap like an unruly child. He was spanking me again, steadfast and pitiless, until I was screaming -- sobbing -- begging him to stop...and eventually he did, but not before I was little more than flinching putty in his hands....
I strained and bucked against rope and metal, but I could do nothing to stop him as he locked his arms beneath my shoulders and lifted me into the air with all his immense strength. He'd impaled my ass from below with my own weight, now walking us through every room of his house as I bounced and grunted around the speartip of his cock like a hunting trophy -- now fucking my bound body against his bedroom wall like a flailing amputee in a fetish snuff porn -- now dumping me onto the rug at his feet -- and now he was on me again, attacking me, fucking me into the floor, pistoning in and out of my sweating, cramping, shuddering body like an industrial-grade machine.
I could have begged him to stop. I could have done everything in my power to convince him I'd rather have years of jail time over this extreme treatment, this almost-rape -- but I didn't. I was exhausted, bound and helpless...resigned. I let my low, defeated sobs dribble into raw, protracted moans that bled along the floor, buzzed across his skin, warmed his brain like nectar -- only to stiffen into reflexive gasps whenever he went back to flicking the clothespins on my nipples, or pinching the flesh of my tortured buttocks with his knuckles, twisting it like hot pincers.
The thunderous pain in my cramped, cowering balls was the only thing that brought my voice back to a healthy, sobering wail. They quaked in his grip as he pulled them away from my body -- squeezed them like grapes -- batted them aside like troublesome gnats as they swelled in their tight leather noose. It made my legs convulse into jelly -- even made me piss myself again, which only made him angry -- or would have, if my ass weren't also constricting and spasming around the root of his buried cock in a way that made his eyes go wide. The happy medium was a grinning, gluttonous cruelty that only fueled further torment and degradation of my balls, my belly, every inch of my bound and helpless form...
My ass had yielded to him completely by then, slack and audibly squishing as he drove it into oblivion with his fingers, his cock. In fact, every last ounce of throbbing muscle below my waist had dissolved into a quivering tool for him to use -- a sturdy, meaty channel in which to sheath his long, hard, thrusting monster of a cock. My body wasn't mine any longer, in any sense -- I was numb, plastic, watching my bound legs sway like severed tree branches as my hips and ass got pulled against his giant, grunting form...slapped, molested, bent in half...manhandled into obscene positions at the whim of his frothing lust...skewered by a needy weapon I was now only dimly aware of...a long, swollen shadow flickering across my spent nerves...a fire that refused die...
Whenever I got hard, he'd stop whatever he was doing -- no matter how much he was enjoying it -- and viciously stroke my swollen cock. Either the pain would bully it back down into softness, or he'd force me to come yet again...meek little dribbles of thin white milk that barely seemed worth the effort, and only served to stagger my breath and make me numb once more. Either way, he made sure I was limp and drained throughout the entire trial, unable to fully enjoy his hammering cock as it slammed in and out of my conquered hole -- the only thing that would have made this experience worth it in the end.
Still, somehow...in some ugly, primordial way...I was stuck in an endless, carnal loop that could only be described as...rapture. I was aimless, thoughtless, powerless in every way...a drifting mound of carbon in an ocean of strange, alien lust. Not the simple lust of the body, no...my body didn't exist...this was something else entirely...something Beyond...
I was much too far gone to realize it then, but during this long, mind-bending transformation of my flesh into his...breaking me down into smaller and smaller pieces, until nothing remained but his reflection in the empty pool of my eyes...he never came. Not once.
My shoulders were being crammed against the sweaty, scattered quilts of the bed when I began to emerge from the haze of sensation he'd been drowning me in. He was standing at full height, my cramped legs held tight against his sinewy flanks, his eyes like distant moons as they rolled back into his head, pumping deep into the Thing I'd become. I'd thought I'd known how sadistic he was, how utterly depraved. If I had known the true depths of his desire for me...or for what I represented to him, as that was all a Thing could be...I might not have had the nerve to set my malformed plan into motion...but it was far too late for that sort of thinking, even if I were capable of it.
Date night...remember. Wine and a movie. It's going to happen. After this is over with...after he's burnt himself out...keep yourself aware. Awake and alive. Be ready for that moment, whenever it comes...whatever it ends up being...and then...make him pay for this...
My numb, throbbing nipples suddenly burst into piercing, white-hot daggers -- more than enough to rip me out of my stupor. He'd slapped the clothespins off of them, artless and crude. They were still clattering across the hardwood floor as my legs bloomed, imploded, expanded with a rush of blood and endless needles of nausea -- he'd untied them, tossing the lengths of blue rope over his broad, sweaty shoulder. He was hauling me to my feet now, but I wasn't able to stand -- my legs had cramped up and fallen asleep some time ago. They were throbbing with a sickening agony that was beyond my ability to endure. I bellowed pitifully, pleading from the pit of my being, for he was the only one who could help me. I wasn't in control of my own body...his body...
He immediately laid me back down on the bed. I was twisting against the gripping, relentless pain in my legs, which was pushing me right back into tears. He had both my ankles in his strong hands seconds later, and then he was straightening my legs into the air, stretching them out, making them groan back to life as the spasms slowly died...now pushing them towards my face one at a time, stretching my hamstrings, my calf muscles, and even my buttocks...inviting blood back into them, one grinding compression at a time...now whispering something soft and warm into my ear that I couldn't quite make out, something that might have made me feel adored...
Once my legs had recovered, he carried me into the bathroom like a sack of flour. I found myself on the cold tile once more, the floor this time, slumped against the wall like a discarded mannequin with the handcuffs still clamping my wrists against my spine. I was being drenched in...something hot. Pungent. Sour.
"You really are mine now, baby boy..." came his voice from somewhere far above me, rumbling in my skull. "You'll call me Master before this is over...and you'll do it all by yourself..."
The warmth of him was gone in moments, only to be replaced by an icy jolt from the showerhead as it spewed cold water across my skin.
The water was soon warm again. He was looming over me now, his veiny, grotesquely aroused cock pressed against my hair, my forehead, funneling a burning cascade of soapy water into my eyes. I was laid on the tiled bench some moments later, and his hands were on me again...soft and firm...lathering my limp muscles with soap and water, stinging me in deep places...checking my ass for signs of lasting injury...checking my eyes for signs of life.
Focus.
I blinked up at him through the billowing steam, silent and aware. He patted my cheek after a moment, and ran his thumb across the sopping scruff of my face with something akin to tenderness.
"You lie right here, baby boy...you rest, now. You're doing so good. Holding up like a
