Date: Mon, 24 Sep 2007 11:13:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Roberts <darkroad53@yahoo.com>
Subject: Abduction in a smal town - Part 15

This is the next chapter in the ongoing ordeal of my
abduction and submission. If you have found this then
you obviously like M/m contact, consensual or
otherwise. Thanks to all of you who have written and
commented on previous chapters. You have given me the
desire to continue writing. To all others Masters and
fellow subs, please write and critique or comments.

With the hood in place, my sense of smell is assaulted
by the half-dried, sweat-soaked cloth, so all I have
left is a muffled sense of sound. Just before letting
go of the drawstring, rob leans over to me and quietly
says, "Master Eric is packing up his bag. It looks
like he's finally going to leave this place.

"Okay robbie, it's time we get out of here. But, just
so you don't try to escape, you'll have to be
chained." These cuffs with the three foot chain go on
your wrists, and these with the two foot chain go on
your ankles." All I can hear is the sound of steel
cuffs being locked. Then I hear Master Eric's voice
again, "You'll have to carry your friend out to the
truck. You're big enough to just sling him over your
shoulder, so let's go."

I hear the dragging of chains across the floor; then I
feel his hands on me. He rolls me onto my left side
and slides me to the edge of the table. In one easy
move, he slides me over his shoulder. My torso hangs
down his back, and I feel my cock and balls against
his bare chest as his hands grip the back of my
thighs. "Follow me, robbie."

I hear the chain between rob's ankle sliding across
the floor and through a doorway. The coolness of the
evening air tells me we are outside. When Master Eric
opens the back of his vehicle, he orders rob to lay me
face down on the floor, so he lifts me off his
shoulder and place me down just inside the door. I can
feel the back bumper with my legs. Then I feel the
vehicle dip slightly as he climbs in behind me. He
pulls me inside and rolls me over so I am lying on my
stomach.  "That's good. Leave him right there. Now
take these ropes and tie his ankles and wrist to the
bar hanging from the ceiling. I don't want him to be
too comfortable on the ride to my place.

I feel rob lift my ankles and wind the rope around
them several times. Spreading my legs apart, he pulls
the ropes through the eyehooks until my knees are bent
at a ninety degree angle and lifted off the deck.
After Master Eric checks his work, rob is ordered to
bind my wrist with more rope and tie them to the over
head bar. When the rope is pulled taught, I let out a
painful groan which Master Eric answers by shoving his
boot between my legs and stepping hard down on my cock
and balls. When I scream again, he shouts, "Shut the
fuck up CUNT or you'll lose what little you have
hanging out now. Get It?"

I stop all sound and try to nod my head and
acknowledge him. Only then does he stomp down once
more and pull his heavy black boot off my genitals.
All I can do is breathe heavily and try to regain my
composure. Within moments, I feel him get out of the
back of the vehicle, slam the doors shut, and get into
the driver's seat.

Reaching back and slapping me on the head, he laughs,
"I said goodbye to rob for you; I've decided that I
want you all alone and all to myself. Don't worry,
you'll get use to me CUNT; I can be rough with my
slaves, but I haven't killed one yet.

My worst fears have come true. Now I am truly alone;
no rob to help calm me and take some of the
punishment; naked and securely tied; completely
unaware of where I am being taken; and totally at the
mercy of a Master who I barely know.

As the truck pulls away, I am left to wonder where I
am being taken. After a short ride over a rather bumpy
road, the pavement smoothes, Master Eric speeds up,
and we are apparently on an expressway.  Then I hear
his voice, "You've had it pretty rough for the last
several hours, CUNT, so I'm going to take it easy on
you. We don't have very far to go and you'll be safe
with me. My home is quite isolated and out of the view
of prying eyes, so I don't have to worry that you'll
get away or be heard by anyone."

Just as he finishes, I feel the vehicle come to a
stop. "We're here. I'll be back out to get you when I
get things ready, so relax and enjoy yourself."

To me, I have a great deal to worry about, and I
certainly cannot relax. I have been forced to perform
and submit against my will, so I don't expect for
things to get much better anytime soon. As I expected,
Master Eric returns, and I immediately resume my role
as his submissive slave. When the doors of the vehicle
are opened, I feel the rush of cool air. Master Eric
first unties my legs, and they drop heavily to the
floor. All feeling is gone and I wiggle my legs to get
the blood circulating again. Then I realize my arms
are tingling and sore. Before he reaches to release
them, he grabs my cock and balls, with this stern
warning, "You'd better fuckin' not try anything, CUNT.
I'm in control, and you will obey me. Got it?"

I moan my understanding of his power over me. Once he
unties my arms, he pulls me to my feet and directs me
to follow him. "We're going inside. I've got to
prepare you to be MY SLAVE now!" I stumble along with
him as he guides his blind slave into the house.
Once inside, he removes the stinking hood so that I
can see my new surroundings. The house is rustic with
wooden floor, stucco walls, and beamed ceilings. The
incandescent lights give the place an amber glow as
the fire dances atop the wooden logs in the hearth.

As my eyes fully adjust, I see a wooden beam hanging
from the ceiling and low to the floor. Taking me to
the beam, he says, "Straddle this." Once in place, he
raises the beam until it just a little too high for me
to stand flat footed. One pointed side of the 4 x 4
square is forced between my legs and pressed tightly
to my cock and balls. It is too painful to for me to
stand flat footed, so I work hard to balance myself on
the balls of my feet. With the ball gag still jammed
in my mouth, all I can do is look pleadingly at him
for mercy.

He glares at me and says matter-of-factly, "Get use to
it!"  Then he walks to a table and grabs a length of
rope and a pair of handcuffs. Dangling them in front
of me, he laughs. "Your cop buddies gave these to me,
just for you!" He first cuffs my hands behind my back
and attaches the rope and throws it over an overhead
beam. When he pulls down on the rope, it forces my
body to lean slightly forward and exposes my perineum,
cock and balls to the pointed beam causing new stress
and pressure.

Grabbing me by the jaw, he forces me to look into his
eyes. "I call this torment, Riding the Horse. If you
think you are uncomfortable or in pain now, just wait.
I won't have to do anything more to you. Time and
physics will become your enemies, your Masters. The
longer you stand there, the more you leg muscles will
tire, and soon you will have to adjust your position
to try and relieve the stress. All the while your cock
and balls with be raked across the beam. You will have
to endure this for at least an hour. By that time, you
will be shifting constantly, and the pain will be
intense. So, I'll be back in a while with a nice
comfortable chair and a cool drink so that I can fully
enjoy the show. Have fun, CUNT!"

Master Eric leaves the room, and for a moment all is
quiet. Then I hear his vehicle starting and him
driving away. "What has he done? He can't leave me
like this! Please, please, this can't be happening."
The more my minds races, and the more I try to shift
my weight, the more the DAMM HORSE cuts into me.
"Somebody please help me! Anybody! Rob, where are
you?" I feel my breathing getting shallower and
feelings of panic starting to set in, so I take some
deep breaths in order to gain my composure.
Once...Two...Three... "There you can do it. You can beat him
at this own game."

This all works for a while; then my legs start to
burn. I feel the heat from the fireplace and I feel
sweat running down my chest; my shoulders ache from
the tortuous rope, and my jaws ache from the fucking
ball gag. A big, hard cock might as well be raping my
mouth. The burning in my calves and thighs turns to
uncontrollable shaking and shifting. Hell could not be
worse. "Where is Master Eric? When is he going to
release me?  Please, Please; I can't take this
anymore! Help me! Help me!"

Just as my thinking become almost incoherent, Master
Eric enters the house and walks into what has become
my torture chamber. Mocking me, he says, "How the fuck
are you doing, CUNT?" He can plainly see that I am in
distress, and I am at his mercy.  Grabbing my cock and
balls, he grins and says, "These little things have
taken quite as beaten, all scratched and red. I've got
the perfect answer to your problem." He lets my cock
and balls drop back on the beam and rubs them into the
rough wood just to my reaction. I moan in pain, so he
just slaps them and walks away.

When he returns, he is carrying a plastic device.
"This is the CB-6000, the new-kid on the block. It
will protect you little cock and keep it under
control. After all CUNTS can't have erections. Taking
another moment, he kicks two blocks next to my feet.
"Step up on these, CUNT, so I can get you all locked
up."

With my legs still shaking, I struggle to balance
myself on the blocks. He grabs my arm and steadies me.
"I'm warning you, if you fall off the blocks, you'll
tear your nuts off, so be careful."  All I can do is
groan and gather all my strength for a few more
minutes.

The first thing he does is pour lube on my soft cock;
then he slides it into the tube until it comes to
rests inside the cock shaped head. As he holds the
tube in place, he slides the split ring behind and
over my balls. The last plastic pieces are put into
place, and a small black Master padlock is attached.
"That's it CUNT! You're locked up and mine."
As I watch him work on me, he takes a black cord,
loops it around the plastic head of the device and
pulls it upward. He winds the remaining cord around my
neck and ties a knot. Now my cock and balls are
pointing to the ceiling. With me in this position, he
kicks the  block out from under my right foot. As I
balance precariously on one black and hang painfully
from the ropes and cord, I am told to count to
twenty-five, slowly. "If you fall off before you're
finished, we'll start all over, CUNT! NOW COUNT!

I start a muffled, whining, pleading count to
twenty-five. It takes all my strength, but when I get
to the number he ordered, he grabs me and eases me
back down on the HORSE. "You're gong to RIDE a little
longer CUNT. We've got some talking to do, and I need
your complete attention and cooperation.

When he walks away from me, all I can do is breathe
deeply and wait him out. He returns holding another
cord and a pair of women's high heeled shoes. "This is
another variation on riding the horse. These will make
you clop along like you have horseshoes on. And the
cord will keep you from sliding off. I want you in
pain, just not torn up." Bending down to my legs, I
lift one leg and then the other as he buckles on the
shoes. Then comes the cord. He ties my ankles together
so that they are shoulder width apart and no wider.

When he is done he steps back and adjusts the beam so
it is once again shoved tightly between my legs
irritating my tender inner thighs. Then he sits down
in his easy chair and takes a drink.  "Let's see how
long you can last this time. You look more like a CUNT
now than you ever did. I was thinking about changing
you name, but this one fits perfectly. The slave boy
bitch has now become MY CUNT! Are you ready to dance
for me now CUNT? I think I'd enjoy seeing MY CUNT
dance while he RIDES THE HORSE! This is an eight
minute version of SRV's Tightrope. When it over, and
if your dancing satisfies me, we'll talk. Before I you
start to entertain me, let me help you out."

He lets my arms down from the painful position behind
my back and reattaches them around my neck in front.
"This will let you move a little better because I want
a show from MY CUNT! Grind it good bitch! Oh, by the
way, your fucking performance is about to be broadcast
to the Internet by way of my web cam." Pointing to his
inconspicuous laptop across the room, he says, "Look
right over there." As I stare at the tiny web cam, he
walks over, clicks his mouse a few times, and I
appear, big as life for all the world to see. I've
already alerted some of my closest friends about your
debut, and they are logged on and ready to go. Let's
see, we've got seventeen viewers; the word must have
gotten around. Okay, CUNT, let's see what you've got."

When the music starts, I begin the most humiliating
movements I have ever done, trying to thrust my hips
back and forth and around and around along the beam.
My movements are severely restricted and the wood
painfully scratches my thighs, but I don't dare stop
trying to entertain Master Eric and all his veiwers. I
look for some sign or acknowledgement of satisfaction
as I slowing dance to his music. The high heels make
my calves burn, and the humiliation of the moment
makes me seethe with embarrassment. Eight minutes seem
like an eternity and as it the music grinds on, I
begin to shake once again. I can hear my high heels
clopping on the floor as I try to keep my balance. Now
I know what he means by riding the horse. Even though
the music ends, I cannot remain still. The pain and
torment of the beam keeps me shifting, clopping, and
moving.

"Well, CUNT, you are really, really riding now. And
the complements are pouring in to my website. Are you
ready to answer my questions now?" I nod as best I
can, looking directly into his eyes to show him I am
ready. "Good. Let me take off your gag so I can
understand you." Once he releases me from the
tortuous, bitter tasting ball, I breathe deeply,
saying sincerely, "Thank you, SIR. Thank you." As I
continue clopping around in my high heels, he begins
asking me questions.

"Yeah! Yeah! Just answer me. Who do you belong to?"

"You, SIR! I belong to you. I'm your slave."

"Is your name, John?"

"No, SIR! My name is CUNT!

"But the others were calling you, johnnie. Isn't that
your name?"

"It was SIR, but now it's CUNT!"

"Why is that?"

"Because I am your slave boy bitch; my name is now and
always will be, CUNT!"

"Okay, CUNT. You need to be marked as my slave named,
CUNT! Let's see. How would you feel about me bringing
in a tat artist to mark you with you new name?

I hesitate because I don't believe what I am hearing.
"Can I refuse him? Will he let me say NO! Do I have a
choice? If I say, yes, where will he mark me? Will
others be able to see my name?"

"I let out a desperate moan without answering him, so
he presses me again. "Is your Name, CUNT?"

"Yes, SIR! My name is CUNT!"

"Then you should be proud to display your name right
across your chest, so everyone will know your name.
`Look, there goes, Master Eric's boy; His name is
CUNT!'"

I can't imagine going through life with the name, CUNT
tattooed on my chest, so I break down an cry, "NO,
please SIR; I don't want to be marked with that name.
Please! Please!"

"Quit your fucking whining, CUNT!"

"I'll let the tat go for now, but just so that you
know I am serious, this should do the trick." Walking
up to me, he takes a marker and prints C-U-N-T, in big
black letters, across my chest. When he steps back and
I see myself on his computer screen, I bow my head in
shame and whimper quietly. "He taunts me, "Come on
CUNT, you know you love it. You're a CUNT and now you
have the name to prove it. Tell everybody watching you
how much you like your name. Tell them."

As I clench my teeth and take short choppy breaths, I
feel my face getting flushed and red from the
humiliating admission I must make to Master Eric and
all those gazing a me on his web cam. I look up at him
with desperate eyes and say, Thank you SIR, for giving
me the name I deserve and that I love. Thank you for
writing it across my chest for everyone to see."

The angonizing confession weakens my spirit and my
heels begin to clop even more loudly as my legs burn
and shake. The constant movement has taken a toll on
my cock and balls. The pointed wooden beam has scraped
and scratched my balls while the cord has kept my cock
head stretched tightly toward the ceiling. Every
movement is now more painful than the last one.

The look on Master Eric's face is one of complete
satisfaction that his slave is under control, is
suffering, and will agree to and do anything he
desires. He is leaning back with his hands behind his
head laughing at my predicament and surely plotting
out new ways to tease and torment me, the CUNT, his
slave, clopping in my heels trying desperately to
relieve the pain.

Looking toward the computer screen, he sees several
notes popping up from the men viewing my performance.
"Look here CUNT, there are Masters out there who say
I've been too easy on you. They want to see me inflict
more pain and punishment. Let's see. Yeah, this looks
good. Stay put CUNT, I'll be right back.

When Master Eric leaves the room, all I can do is
maintain my balance and minimize the pain as I ride
the horse. It's just me, the beam, the ropes, the hot
fire, and the clopping. What will I endure next?

Master Eric returns carrying some objects. "The guys
want to see me do some nipple work on you, so I've got
a set of clamps and some weights to stretch those
little tits of yours."  Grabbing and tugging on my
left nipple, secures the first clamp whose teeth bite
painfully into my sensitive, tender flesh. My whimper
goes unnoticed as he grabs my right nipple, pulls hard
and snaps on the other clamp causing me to wince in
pain and cry out. With my hands still tied around my
neck, I am helpless to stop him. When he sees and
hears my reaction, he growls sadistically and says,
"You fuckin' pussy; I teach you not whine and cry." He
takes two weights weighing several ounces and hangs
them on the chain attached to my nipples dragging them
down sending shooting pains through my chest. Then he
slaps me across the face, "What do you say, CUNT?"
Knowing I must give him the answer he wants or be
punished even more severely, I blurt out, "Thank you
SIR! Thank you."

The guys also tell me that you've rested your arms
long enough; you should have them tied together behind
you like they were before. "What do you say about
that, CUNT?"

"Sir, if it pleases you and the other Masters, Sir."

"Well, I see you're learning CUNT." As soon as he
releases my arms, he pulls them behind my back jerking
me off balance and causing my balls and legs to scrape
against the sharp-edged beam. My balls and legs are
raw and sore, but I don't protest more than a quiet
moan.  When my wrists and arms are pulled upward and
lashed to the ceiling beam, the pain in my shoulders
returns immediately adding to almost complete
exhaustion.

"Some of the other Masters want to see how you like
the treatment, so they've asked me to remove the cock
tube."  First, the loop is taken down; then the lock
removed and the tube pulled off my cock. At first
nothing happens; I just feel the sweat cooling my
cock. Then Master Eric takes my cock in his hand and
begins to slide it up and down the shaft. The
sensations feel so good that my cock begins to harden
despite the pain coursing through my body. My legs are
shaking and burning, my tits feel like they are being
torn off, and arms are aching and numb, yet my cock is
standing straight up.

Turning his face to the web cam, he laughs, "Hey guys;
this fucking CUNT likes the treatment. Look at his
pathetic little cock. It's already dripping pre-cum.
He must want more punishment. What would you like me
to do now?"

As he reads the comments, he says, "Really? I didn't
think of that, but it should send him over the top.
I'd like to see him crying and screaming in pain. Once
again, CUNT, don't go anywhere. I've got to go
upstairs and get a couple of candles."

To myself, I say over and over, "Oh NO; NO; NO; NO;
Please NO; not candles!"

When he returns, he shows me two, long, red candles.
"What do you think these are for, CUNT?"

"Sir, I don't know, Sir!"
"You're not a very fucking good liar. Now tell me what
the fuck these are for, CUNT!"
"Sir, you are going to light them and drip hot red wax
on me."
"That's almost right. Anyway, what have you got to say
about this game?"
"Sir, if it pleases you, Sir."
"The guys say, and I agree, that I should drip the wax
on your cock and balls. Do you still want to play the
game?"
I think about all the pain that I have already
endured. My mind is screaming, "No! No! Don't do this
to me! Stop! I can't take it anymore!" But, a feeling
of total helplessness comes over me, and I bow my head
and begin to cry, "Oh please Sir, if it pleases you,
I'll do anything you want."
"You fucking CUNT! No fight left in you, huh? Let's
get started then." He lights the first candle and
waits until the flame is burning brightly. Waving the
flame in front of my face, he says mockingly, "What do
you want, CUNT?"

"Sir, please, I just want you to stop. I really can't
take this anymore. Please, Sir!"
"WRONG FUCKING ANSWER, CUNT!" Master Eric savagely
slaps me across the mouth. "I'M TIRED OF YOUR FUCKING
WHINING AND YOUR FUCKING CRYING!" I see him grab the
ball gag again as he shouts, "OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH,
CUNT!"  Grabbing the back of my head, he jerks it
backwards and rams the gag between my lips and teeth
and buckles it to my head. "Now you can moan all you
want, you fucking little bitch."

The attack has cause my cock to begin to go soft, so
Master Eric pours some warm fluid on me and brings it
back to life with his hand. As soon as he is satisfied
that I am hard again, he tightly winds a cord around
the base of my cock and balls, up around the shaft,
and around the head; the rest of the cord is thrown
over a beam and tied off.

When he steps away from me, I am left helpless, no one
to release me and relieve my pain. Whatever sadistic
things Master Eric and his friends want to do to me,
they will. My naked body is sweating. I am straddling
a wooden beam that has been scraping and raping my
legs, my ass, and my balls. I'm standing in high heels
that continually torture my calves and thighs. My
arms, long since numb, are painfully tied together
behind my back and pulled toward the ceiling. My tits
have been clamped and weighted. A ball gag has
silenced me, and my cock, kept hard and sensitive by
the cord is tied to a ceiling beam. All movements
cause stress, pressure, and pain. And even though I
don't know how long I have tortured, it feels like
hours and hours.

Master Eric re-lights the candles and steps toward me.
"What's the matter CUNT? You look like you're afraid."

Not wanting to anger him any further, I remain silent,
ready to please my Master. Throwing his head back in
mocking laughter, he says, "Well. Alright!"

Taking a deep breath, I watched wide-eyed and fearful
as he slowly tilts the candle toward my hard,
sensitive, roped-tied cock. Drip...drip...drip.
Splash...splash...splash. The boiling hot wax sears the
head of my cock and the pain comes alive causing me to
scream into the ball gag, drip saliva from my mouth,
and blow deep breaths through my nose. As I scream, I
shake my head back-and-forth, "NO! NO! PLEASE NO!"

Seeing my reaction just fuels his sadistic fire. The
flames dance on the ends of the candles and reflect in
Master Eric's eyes as he takes both candles and
repeatedly drips the hot, liquid, red wax on my cock
and balls. I scream and scream, but no amount of
pleading affects his demeanor. He laughs and taunts me
over and over, "You fucking CUNT! You fucking CUNT!
I'm just getting started. If you think this is bad,
you're in for a rough time. Your ass is mine, and you
will suffer until I am satisfied!"

to be continued...