Date: Fri, 26 Jan 2007 14:20:49 -0800 (PST)
From: John Roberts <darkroad53@yahoo.com>
Subject: Boss's New Sub - Part 7 (Authoritarian)

This is the continuation of my story that finds a male
confronted by his boss who discovers his
submissiveness and is determined to enslave him. If
you are offended by Master/slave sex, then go
elsewhere; otherwise enjoy my wild imaginings and
fantasy.

Part 7
My restless sleep is suddenly interrupted when the
door to the basement room is opened and the lights
turned on. I look up to see all four fully clothed men
standing near my cage. My boss tells the other three,
"He's yours until morning. I'll be back after I've had
a chance to contact his old friend who dying to see
how he's turned out." I here him laughing as he leaves
the room, "Yeah, turned out.!"

One of the men unlocks the door of the cage and grabs
my leash, "Come on out CUNT."
With the cock gag in still in my mouth, I cannot
speak; instead I moan loudly shaking my head, "NO!
NO!"

"Shut the fuck up, CUNT! Your boss left you with us
and told us to use you. So, first things, first." As I
kneel on the floor like a dog, another of the men
reaches for the cock gag and removes it from my sore,
piss tasting, smelly mouth.

I immediately show my gratitude, "Thank you sir. Thank
you. May I please have something to drink; my mouth is
so dry."  The third man walks over to me with a bottle
of water and says,
"Sure, CUNT! Open up, CUNT!." I gladly prepare to
drink down the water when I watch him pull his cock
out of his pants. "Slaves drink piss before they are
rewarded with water, so swallow it all, CUNT!"

Once again, I obediently open my mouth and choke down
the salty, acrid piss while the men stand around me
laughing. When he is finished, I am handed the bottle
of water, and I hurriedly chug it down. "Thank you,
Sir! Thank you very much!"

When I hand the bottle to one of the men, another one
comes toward me with a black leather hood that has
rings, laces, and straps attached to it. He slides the
hood down over my face and cinches up the laces so the
hood is fitted tightly to my head. Then he pulls
another strap under my chin and locks it to the back
of the hood. Next he  buckles one of the heavy straps
around my neck like a collar and applies a padlock.
The hood has eye holes, but these are now covered with
a strap that is buckled around the back of my head.
The small holes by my nose are left uncovered, but my
mouth hole is covered by a perforated strap that is
also locked to the hood.  Once it is in place, I am
deprived of the full use of my senses, very little
hearing, no sight, and barely little air. This feeling
is agonizingly claustrophobic because I have even less
control now; I'm isolated and confined like never
before.
Since it is difficult for me to hear, a leash is
hooked to the collar around my neck, and I am jerk to
my feet. Another jerk forward, and I know to follow
obediently. By the feel of the floor under my feet, I
know that I have been taken to a room with a concrete
floor, and the temperature is several degrees colder.
One of the men grabs my head and pulls off the leather
ear coverings allowing me to at least hear what is
going on. "Stand right where you are and don't move
unless you are told."
I acknowledge their order by nodding my head. Cuffs
are strapped to my wrists, my arms are raised over my
head, and locked to chains suspended from the ceiling
beam. As I stand flat-footed, I moan quietly as my
legs area spread apart and the bar is again locks to
my ankles. I am completely at the mercy of the these
three sadistic men totally unaware of what is going to
happen to me. I feel one of the straps on the hood
being loosened, and in seconds, I am able to see
again. The three men are dressed in black leather
chaps that fully exposed their semi-hard cocks and
heavy balls. Their hairy chests are bare, and each one
holds something different.  One has a riding crop, one
has a leather flogger, and one has a leather belt with
the word CUNT written on it. They are all smirking and
slapping their instruments on their hands.
"You're in for a rough time, CUNT. We are going to see
how much you pain you can take before we break you."
I immediately begin shaking my head, "NO! NO!" and
whimpering inside the confining hood."
Their response is, "Fuck You, CUNT!" The strap
covering my eyes is once again put in place. Even as I
keep shaking my head and writhing against the chains
and the bar, I feel the belt cut into my ass and the
flogger crash into my cock and balls. The pain is
almost unbearable as I jerk forward and backward
wishing I could plead for mercy. Another belt blow
lands on the backs of my thighs as the flogger cuts
into the front. I hear my own screams that are muffled
by the hood as I breathe as hard as I can through the
tiny nose holes causing my chest to rise and fall with
each breath.
I am not given any rest. One of my torturers grabs my
cock and hit the head with the riding crop. Next come
several blows to my nipples. I fight against the
chains and bar, swinging the heavy, hot hood that
torments me as much as the men.
"This CUNT is moving around too much. Get those
cords." what I feel next is forward and downward,.not
allowing me to move more than an inch or two. Then I a
loop being cinched around my cock and balls. Once it
is tight, they are pulled downward, and I feel the
cord being tied to the spreader bar. With the two
cords in place, I am even more immobile than before.
All I hear is, "Beat him!" Then the flogger, belt, and
crop all begin to inflict their pain. I feel every
nerve ending in my body being attacked and brutalized.
As impossible as it is to move, I fight the restraint
and scream into the hood. Over and over the men beat
every inch of my body until I slump like a wet rag. I
feel my eyes fill with tears and no where to go but
inside the hot, heavy hood. The beating stops, but I
get no relief from the chains, bar or cords. I am left
to endure the aftermath of the beating. My arms and
legs feel numb, but gradually my body's nerves begin
to calm, and I wait submissively for whatever is to
come.
The strap across my mouth is release and a tube is
shoved into my mouth. "Drink CUNT."  I suck the cool,
refreshing water trying to relieve the horrible
discomfort of the beating and the hood and hoping that
they will let me drink all I want. I gulp down as much
as I can, but the flow is abruptly halted by one of
the men, and he asks, "What do you have to say for
yourself, CUNT?"
"Sir, thank you for the water, but please don't beat
me anymore. I'll do anything you want. Please, Sir,
Please!"
All I hear in return is laughter from the three men.
"We don't give a fuck about what you want, CUNT. Your
boss told us to do whatever we wanted, and we intend
to use you until we're satisfied. Get it in your
fucking head. Just because you fucking whine and cry
doesn't mean we'll stop. Your ass is ours."
This time the chains holding my arms are pulled upward
until my feet are no longer touching the floor. As I
dangle in the air, my mouth is covered by the strap
again. The cord cinched around my cock and balls is
released as is the cord holding my head. Then I am
left for a few moments, spread eagled and vulnerable,
with no chance of escape.
While I am feeling sorry for myself, both my nipples
are grabbed roughly, and I feel them being clamped.
When they are left go, I feel the painful weight
attached to the clamps yanking on my nipples. I react
by groaning and shaking my head, NO! again. Then my
cock is attacked. I feel clips biting into my tender
ball sac. Pin after pin is clamped tightly and
painfully until it feels like I'm on fire. Then my
drooping cock is attacked by more pins. The pain is
excruciating, but there is nothing I can do. I
struggle in mid-air, trying to get use to the searing
pain.
I can't imagine what else they can do to torture me
until I feel my ass cheeks being pulled apart and some
kind of thick lube being applied. I feel fingers
invade my ass as the lube is spread inside. "This CUNT
really has a tight hole. He'll have to be loosened up
before we fuck him.  Get me that rubber cock on the
stick. I want to use it on his ass hole."
What I feel first is the rubber cock being rubbed
around the opening of my ass. Then without warning,
one of the men begins to shove its head past my
sphincter. "Relax, CUNT, or this thing will rip you
open."
I grunt hard trying to relax as the rape begins. The
cock is pushed and pulled, in and out of my ass
several times, but I cannot get use to the unwanted
invasion. I feel my eyes once again tearing. My body
is racked with pain, but I am not shown any mercy by
the men. When the pushing and pulling stops, I think
the rape is over until I feel myself being lowered
toward the floor. What this does is drive the cock
deeply into my ass. The cock is held in placed by the
pole attached to it, and I am impaled, unable to move.
Then the painful beating begins again. I feel every
biting strand of the flogger as it tears into my
flesh. I scream into the torturingly hot hood, but it
does no good. Over and over the flogger lands on me,
on my back, on my thighs, on my chest, between my
legs. "Oh please, please, stop."
Then, just as my head slumps forward again, and I am
ready to black out, the beating stops. This time I
don't think I can recover and endure anymore torment.
But these men, these Masters are  very experienced.
They know how far they can push me; then they stopped.
They didn't let me go unconscious. They want me to
feel all the pain and discomfort they could inflict.
I am left to hang, impaled on the cock for several
minutes. The weights on my nipples have left them
completely numb; my arms and legs are lifeless, and
the pins on my cock and balls no longer hurt. But, I
cannot escape. I plead for relief, but I know that I
am at their mercy, so I wait in despair, hoping that
at least my boss will return and take me away from
these sadistic men.
The first sign of relief comes when I feel the hood
being removed. All four straps are loosened, and the
laces opened so it can be pulled off my head. The rush
of fresh air causes me to take a deep breath. I don't
wait for a prompt from the men this time. I blurt out,
"Thank you Sirs. Thank you."
"Take it easy CUNT. We're not done with you yet."
Though my eyes are bleary, I see one of the men
approach me with the riding crop. He taps me on both
sides of my face and pulls on some of the pins, making
me wince and whimper. But I can't stop him. He steps
back, swings the crop through the air, and lands on
the end of one of the biting clips tearing it away
from my cock. I scream, but he continues, one pin at a
time. He tries to hit each pin as hard as he can so he
can inflict the most pain. My screaming and pleading
for mercy only fuels his sadistic fire. This is more
painful than anything they have done to me. I scream
and scream for mercy each time a pin is torn off, and
the blood returns. When the last one is gone, he
sticks the shaft of the crop in my mouth. "SHUT THE
FUCK UP YOU WHINING LITTLE PUSSY!"
His anger is directed at the weighted clamps on my
nipples. He roughly grabs both at once, twisting and
pulling while laughing at my agony; tears and drool
run down my tortured body as I breathe heavily trying
to endure this punishment. With one, last, hard pull,
the weights are torn from my nipples as the pain
registers in my brain. I am slumped over, just wanting
to die.
As I try to recover, my body is raised, and the cock
is removed from my ass. Finally, I am lowered to the
floor, being told to stand still as my arms and legs
are released. Once I am free of all restraints, one of
the men throw me a blanket. "This way, CUNT." I follow
silently and obediently, not knowing where we are
going or what is going to happen to me next.

End of Part 7.  i am the submissive male in this
story. All of this has been an exploration of
discovery and acceptance, and i have enjoyed all
previous emails and hope others will write. To all
Masters, i am open to suggestions for future writings
and any direction and demands that you may have for me
to please you, Sirs. To all fellow submissives, let me
know also of ways Masters can use, train, and punish
their slaves.  darkroad53@yahoo.com