Date: Thu, 31 Mar 2011 11:47:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com> Subject: Penance - Chapter 12 First, the basics: This is a work of fiction. Those who are underage or for any other reason should not be reading sexually explicit material, close this window. Copyright 2011. Any praise, criticism, or comments are to be sent to me: Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com Enjoy! =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= September 12th YOUR congregation, YOUR tribe, is now 10. Ten constantly worshipping minions serving God. YOU have decided that there can be too much of a good thing. YOU have stated that the time has come to, as YOU put it, "cull the herd" with a series of tests. Saving the best for YOURSELF and giving the rest away to some place YOU called "the compound." No one has asked any details; nobody could if they wanted to. YOU announced the first test today. To explain the test, it's best to explain some protocols YOU have implemented for YOUR congregation of holes. As written before, one of YOUR faggots is always stationed at the glory hole out front. There is always a tip jar hanging from the knob. What has changed is that each of YOUR suckbitches has a tip jar assigned. When not on duty, YOUR cocksucker's jar hangs around its neck, tips inside, as a constant reminder of status (or the lack of it). Last month YOU demanded all jars be emptied. Nothing was thought about it, assuming this was just to get all the coins together, to be brought the store, and counted in a machine. YOUR idiots had no way to know a test was beginning. This morning YOU called YOUR subjects (or is it YOUR "objects"?) together in YOUR bedroom. The glory hole was closed for the first time. (Apparently YOU placed a notice on Cragislist, because nobody came by.) You counted the tips each suckhole collected. That was the first test: earnability, you called it. You then instructed YOUR cocksuckers to kneel in line, largest moneymaker at the front. YOUR Master friends arrived, slaves in tow, in preparation for the next test. YOU stretched out naked on YOUR king-sized bed, spreading YOUR arms and legs and allowing all of YOUR bitches to stare at YOU in hunger. YOU announced how this test would work. Above the bed was a large ring. A rope hung the ring beneath a hook hanging from the ceiling. The other end of the rope led to a winch one of the Masters brought with him and was in the corner of the room. YOU allowed each of YOUR worshippers to climb on the bed (in order of money made during the month) and worship a portion of YOUR flesh of its choosing -- a rare reward, as usually YOU just state what part of YOUR body YOU wish licked or sucked. Once on the bed, YOUR suckcunt's nuts were stretched and the stretcher roped to the ring. After all 10 of YOUR animals are properly placed, YOUR friend then turned on the winch and slowly began to stretch all of YOUR whore's balls. At any point, one of YOUR servant bitches could call out "Mercy" and have its nuts unleashed. But the test was based upon how long each of YOUR faggots allowed their torture to continue. A test of endurance and inspiration. Once all of YOUR servants were obediently licking YOUR flesh, balls extended, YOUR friend turned on the winch and ten pairs of testicles were slowly pulled ever tighter to prove their devotion to YOU. It didn't take long for YOUR slaves to need to reposition themselves to accommodate the tightening of the winch. Backs began to arch up, breathing began to be labored. Part of the torment was the slow speed with which the winch pulled ever tighter -- the anticipation was every bit as evil as the pain itself. All of YOUR faggots were wondering how agonizing YOUR test would be. YOUR Master friend called over his slave to worship his cock as he enjoyed the sight of ten tongues worshipping YOUR flesh. Two on YOUR steel-like cock (one on each side), one lapping at YOUR balls, one on each nipple, one in each of YOUR fragrant armpits (reaching from either side of YOUR head), one on each of YOUR muscular legs, and one planted on YOUR left big toe. YOU simply closed YOUR eyes and enjoyed as YOUR fagslaves suffered to prove worthy of YOU. About the time it was no longer possible for YOUR minions to keep their knees on the bed, having to raise them up because of the tightness of the rope, the first of YOUR subjects cried for mercy. One of YOUR friends noted the time and got up to undo YOUR faggot's ball stretcher. YOUR embarrassed nipple-licker was led to the side of the room where YOUR friends sat, to lick and pleasure them as the rest of YOUR bitches continued to adore YOU. Three more cries for mercy came as it became impossible to rest more than the arches of YOUR lickbitches' feet on YOUR bed, backs straining from the positioning as nuts were stretched ever more taut. One of YOUR pit-lickers, one leg-lover, and YOUR ball-cleaner now joined YOUR first failed worshipper on the side of the room. And the torture dragged on. YOUR remaining pit-licker and both of YOUR cocksuckers screamed their surrender as it became impossible to rest more than the tips of the toes on the bed. YOUR remaining worshippers were all moaning from the agony but refusing to beg for mercy. Minutes later, YOUR three body worshippers were performing modified handstands to rest as much body weight as possible from anywhere but YOUR fagholes' nearly-popping nuts. YOUR friend spoke to YOU in YOUR unknown language and YOU nodded. He got up to release YOUR three remaining lick-pigs, announcing that YOU didn't want any damage done to YOUR slaves' bodies. As a reward, YOU allowed these three to pleasure YOUR cock, balls, and asshole (raising YOUR knees for access) and bring YOU to orgasm. Thank YOU for the opportunity to prove worthy of YOUR flesh and for the reward of YOUR ecstasy. October 15th There is a growing sense of anticipation and dread as YOUR faggots await the results of YOUR tests. YOU explained that additional criteria would be more subjective: skills attained in pleasuring YOUR flesh and in domestic service. Each of YOUR bitches silently looks at the others, wondering who will stay and who will go. It is impossible, of course, to speak -- these mouths only serve one purpose -- but gentle caresses of shoulders, small hugs while falling asleep (a tribe of 10 is definitely too large when bodies are resting on YOUR floor at night), these unspoken means of communication speak of the unity of YOUR slaves, brought together for YOUR happiness. Income has apparently never been a problem. Of course YOUR faggots surrendered all income and possessions to YOU. At first YOU allowed outside work, but found that created distractions from a slave's true focus -- YOU. And YOU realized that YOUR faggots have minimal monetary needs. Besides, YOU have YOUR own means of income, working during the day as YOUR tribe of queers labor to prepare YOUR dinner, clean YOUR home, suck off strangers at YOUR glory hole, and put effort on the videos YOU sell to display such depravity. And this unending journey into nothingness. Always thinking, "This is, at last, the ultimate of nothingness ... there is nowhere lower, nowhere less significant to go." And always been proven wrong. It wasn't enough to no longer have a singular identity, to only be recognized as part of a group of YOUR hungry faggots desperate for YOUR approval or validation. It wasn't enough feeling so easily replaceable; YOUR bitches are obviously disposable. Showing how tenuous a grasp any faggot has on YOU. YOU can rid YOURSELF of any or all of YOUR tribe at any moment YOU wish. The desperation is palpable, the fear has become a scent that permeates YOUR home. One that, by the look on YOUR face, YOU sadistically enjoy, watching as each of YOUR worshipping faggots scrambles to be ever more useful, perhaps even desirable, to YOU. There are no doubt some people in the world who would find this life unbearable, a hell on earth ... but they are sadly mistaken. There is nowhere else any of YOUR minions would rather be, nothing else YOUR whores would rather be doing. Life here is so simple, so finely focused: it is all about YOU. Only about YOU. Always about YOU. There is nobody here but YOU. Nothing of any notice but YOU. Thank YOU for providing such a profound and sublime way to live. November 20th YOU have determined that four amongst YOUR worshippers are insufficient and unworthy and YOU have removed these culls from YOUR presence. Last night, after dinner, YOU got up as YOUR servants cleaned up YOUR dinner and prepared to munch on what remained. YOU grabbed on to four of YOUR bitches and pulled them, one at a time, to the entry of YOUR home, near YOUR on-duty gloryhole bitch. YOU demanded that each plucked faggot piss down the gloryhole faggot's throat. Looking back, YOU wanted these bladders emptied for the ordeal to follow, but there was no way to know that yet. There was concern, but no sense of the doom that was to follow. YOU called out that YOU wanted the roll of heavy cellophane that was in the trunk of YOUR car and the duct tape that was in the closet. Once these arrived, YOU demanded YOUR entire tribe (except YOUR on-duty gloryhole bitch) come serve YOUR desires. YOU demanded that the arms and legs of each of YOUR culled fagcunts be wrapped in cellophane. Each arm and leg individually wrapped from one end to the other. Once the 16 limbs were all covered, YOU instructed how each of YOUR substandard faggots was to be individually mummified and wrapped for shipment. There were audible gasps as YOUR plans were understood. YOU held out four pairs of earbuds and instructed each pair to be inserted into the ears of one of YOUR culls. Then the encasement began, starting at the feet and slowly winding around and around,the cellophane tightly adhering to itself and further restricting any movement. Having previously wrapped each limb meant that at no point would there be contact of flesh upon flesh -- only the contact of unbreathing plastic, deepening the sense of complete and utter isolation. Similarly, at the crotch YOU demanded small pieces of wrap be used to isolate YOUR failure's cocks and scrotums so there would be no flesh touching flesh. All of YOUR bitches were petrified, both the ones being shipped off and the ones praying this wouldn't someday happen to them as well. YOU know how to use fear like the Master YOU are. In wrapping YOUR four pathetic losers, YOU insisted that although the heads be covered, the nose and mouth be free enough for easy breathing. This meant the cellophane needed to be wrapped around YOUR unworthy bitches' heads at different angles, further isolating them from the rest of the world. You then said to cover the cellophane with a single layer of duct tape around the entire body, adding yet another layer of separation from everyone and everything else. After living without identity or singularity for these many months, YOU were now creating a hell of isolation and solitude a hell where "me" or "I" was all that remained. No more "us", no more "YOU". YOUR tribe was trembling while accomplishing YOUR instructions. Once completely mummified, YOU instructed YOUR failures to be laid upon the floor on their backs; now the feet were encased, completely sealing these inferior products for shipment to some unknown "compound." It is unlikely they will ever be seen again. You then plugged the four sets of earbuds into an MP3 player. There were four small gasps as YOU pressed play. Now YOUR losers couldn't even hear or see any of "us" or "YOU". One of YOUR mummies started sobbing. YOU said YOU wished the after-dinner cleanup to continue and YOUR remaining tribe was dismissed. During that process, YOUR servants heard more sobbing from the doorway before the front doors were opened and the sounds of lifting and carrying away YOUR detrius deafened YOUR household. There were audible sobs now from within the kitchen. YOU have shown just how meaningless YOUR stupid minions are to YOU. How unworthy YOUR worshipping faggots are to be around YOU. YOU have distilled the perfect elixir of adoration and fear. YOU have displayed what it truly means to serve God. YOU have taught that complacency is to be avoided at all costs. Thank YOU, LORD, for this terrifying lesson.