Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2007 17:18:55 -0400
From: Christian Gartrip <christianxgartrip@gmail.com>
Subject: Master Paulus - Part 1

Master Paulus - Part I
The Beginning

By: Christian Xavier Gartrip

(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)


For the next few months (or maybe years) I will be allowed to post sections
from my journals that detail my weekends spent with my Master.  His name
his Paulus, and he is the live-in manager of a nearby fleabag motel that
caters to the seedier elements of my little southern town.  He is African
American (I am not) and is about 60 years of age (I'm about 40).  My
understanding is that he is a retired veteran who served in the Vietnam War
and at some point decided to withdraw from the rat race to live a quiet
life as part of the "underclass."  I would guess that he is a relatively
content man who needs or wants little more than to be left alone to live
his life.  I suppose we all want that to a degree, but he seems to have
carved out a lifestyle that suits him perfectly.  He answers to no one, and
has no enemies (of which I am aware).  In short, I admire him very much and
long to spend every available second in service to him.  Truth be told, I
just like knowing that he's in the same room with me.  I trust him
completely, and I am learning to obey him, as a slave should.

If you would like to know more about the circumstances that led to our
arrangement, then I would encourage you to read my previous posting called
"The Gentleman, Ben."  The last two sections of that series detail the
nature of our first meeting.  This is the first time I've written about him
since.  The important thing to know is that my name is Chris; I am a slave;
and Paulus is my Master.  Everything else is just filler.

The paragraphs below describe our first official weekend together as
Master/slave.  I suppose you should also know that I am not naturally
submissive, and my Master has never owned a slave before.  He's adapted
better than I, but I am trying my best, as you will come to learn.  The
only other piece of information I will add is this: I post by permission
from Him.  He finds my tales amusing and enjoys the fact that he has been
"immortalized" by my work.  If he changes his mind, I will stop.  If this
disappoints you, then I apologize in advance.  So enjoy, CXG.


I followed Master's instructions and arrived at the appointed hour on
Friday evening.  I pulled into the parking lot of his motel and waited in
my car.  He came out of the office and handed me the key to room 12.  Per
his instructions, I stripped off my clothes and placed everything in the
trunk of my car.  In full view of three young Sudanese refugees, I hung my
head a bit and made my way, naked, to room 12.  When I entered, I dropped
the keys on the bed and took my position in front of the open window: bent
over, legs spread, and asshole aimed at the world.  The Africans walked by
and spent a few moments ogling me from the sidewalk until a taxi pulled up
to whisk them away.  Hearing them snicker at me made me want to rethink the
whole arrangement, but then again, that was the point, right?

Master had been busy this week preparing for the arrival of his new slave.
Room 12 was now painted a dark shade of the-bowels-of-hell burgundy, which
matched the carpet he'd used to replace what had been there before.  The
king sized bed was gone, replaced by a standard double that was pushed
further toward the opposite wall, leaving more floor space.  Gone too were
the loveseat and the mismatched motel furniture.  In their place sat a
black leather recliner and matching leather sofa, a few simple side tables,
and a long low bureau opposite the bed.  A square card table and four
wooden folding chairs finished off the furnishings.  There was no art on
the walls, but plenty of mirrors.  On the wall behind the door hung a long
wooden strip lined with nails on which were placed an assorted collection
of belts, ropes, cuffs, straps, and paddles.  In the corner, next to "my"
closet, was a large metal tub.  Above me, and throughout the room, was a
series of large hooks that had been screwed into the ceiling joists.
Master had certainly been busy.  I hoped that I would soon be able to live
up to his expectations.

For at least an hour I leaned over the bed and "gave show" to anyone who
happened by our room.  After a while I learned to ignore the giggling and
occasional catcalls, but I never really got comfortable with it.  Finally
the door opened, and I knew that my new Master had arrived.  He closed the
door behind him but left the drapes open (I had hoped to hear him close
them).  He picked up my car keys and then walked past me without even so
much as a nod in my direction and went straight to the sink and washed his
hands, like a doctor.  From where I was standing, I could see that he was
still in his manager's khaki's and work shirt, and he had a nylon bag with
him.

After he had washed up, he walked over to the bed and stood behind me.  I
could hear him breathing slightly, and I could sense that he was taking in
the view of what awaited him.  He unzipped the bag and removed a can of
Crisco and placed it on the bed so that I could see it and then pushed a
small butt plug into the open can.  Finally, he spoke.

"I'm pleased that you're on time and in position.  I'm not ready for you
yet, but I thought that you should be rewarded for being an attentive
slave, so I've brought you a gift."

He rubbed his hand firmly against my bare bottom.  I closed my eyes and
imagined how his dark black skin might have looked as it kneaded my pale
flesh.  Then he smacked my butt several time, hard, and in a random pattern
before he removed the plug from the can of lard.

"I like your ass pink.  Spread your legs further apart so I can give you
what I brought."

He placed the greasy plug against my hole and twisted it in past my
sphincter.  The tool was small and was clearly meant to stretch me for
later, but it still hurt, and I screamed out as he leaned into me,
"arrrghhh!"

"Shut up!"  Schmack.  Schmack!  He slapped my left thigh as he pushed it
forward, signaling that he wasn't pleased with my resistance.  I worried
that I'd insulted him.

"Until I return, you're to stay here and enjoy what your butt plug.  You've
done well... so far.  When I come back, we'll get you cleaned up.  You
don't smell very good."

Well, I guess not.  My instructions were to bathe on Thursday night and
then drive directly to the motel on Friday after work.  It had been 24
hours since my last shower, and the summer heat and humidity had given me a
funky odor, not to mention the fact that Master kept the air conditioning
off in Room 12, so the sweat had built up quickly.  No one had ever told me
that I smelled badly before, so it hurt my feelings a bit, which I guess
was what he liked about saying it.

"I'll be back when I'm ready.  You'd best not move until then."  He turned
off all of the lights in the room, but left the drapes open as they had
been all evening.  He then left me alone again.

I stood there concentrating on the plug buried in my greasy ass.  I feared
that if I lost my focus, it would pop out and soil the carpet.  I knew that
there would be hell to pay if that happened, so I worked to keep it in
place.  Another hour passed and the plug was still buried inside of me, but
my legs were growing stiff, and I desperately wanted to sit down.

As the night wore on, the room grew darker from the setting sun.  When he
returned, it appeared to be a little past 8pm.  He flipped on the light as
he walked in the door, and I suddenly felt exposed again.  I heard him
fumble with the collection of straps on the wall before returning to the
bed.

"Get down on your knees."

I dropped to my knees (thanking God) and felt him place a leather collar
around my neck and buckle it.  A chain was then attached to it and the cold
metal links were dropped on the center of my back.  He opened the closet
door and removed a metal bucket from the floor and brought it to me.

"Put your hands behind you and hold the chain.  Follow me."

I stood up (hoping that this was ok) and followed him to the door of the
motel room.  He very unceremoniously opened the door and walked out into
the dusky night and onto the sidewalk.  Fearing the public exposure less
than the strap of a belt, I walked closely behind him as we made our way
past rooms 13 and 14 (seemingly unoccupied) and then around the corner to
the maid's closet.  Master found the door locked and took his time fumbling
through his collection of motel keys before opening the door to the dark
room.  I tried to remain calm and unassuming, as I stood naked on the
sidewalk, fearing the public exposure but still feeling oddly safe in his
presence.

He walked in and turned on the light to a basically empty room with the
exception of the cleaning supplies that lined the shelves on the walls.
The concrete floor had a large open drainage hole in the center of it, and
an old hose sprawled across the room's floor like a snake in the forest.  I
also noticed that when we entered the room (about 6 by 8 feet) he left the
door open as well.  He took a seat on a small stool in the corner, lit one
of long brown cigarettes, and then looked at me as I stood nearby.

"Time for your bath.  You gotta use the toilet I suppose, so go ahead and
get started so I can get you cleaned up."

I knew what he meant for me to do, but I hesitated from disbelief, which
clearly irritated him.

"Squat, damn't!  We ain't got all night.  And don't let go of that chain if
you know what's good for you."

With my hands gripping the chain hanging down my back, I squatted over the
hole in the floor and released the small butt plug, which pounced on the
floor toward the door, followed by the contents of my gut, which dropped
into the metal-wrapped drain.  Master just sat there, neither watching nor
ignoring me... just waiting.  He was patient with me, and so I stayed in
that position until I felt as if I'd done all I could do.  He then turned
on the spout connected to the hose and shot a heavy stream of water into
the hole from where he sat.

From a small cardboard box next to the stool where he sat, he pulled out an
enema bag and filled it with water.  He stood over me as I squatted in the
center of the room and then shoved the end of the tube into my ass.  I
could feel my bowels filling up with cool liquid, which sent a sharp chill
through my bottom.

"Hold every drop until I tell you to release it."

He emptied almost the entire bag into me before he pulled the tube from my
asshole.  He then refilled it and hung the bag from a nail on the wall in
front of me.  He reached into his pocket and lit another one of his brown
cigarettes and walked outside for a smoke.  My back was to the open door,
but I heard him walk off a few yards down the sidewalk.

As I waited for him to return and give me permission to release, I thought
about what we were doing here and wondered why.  He clearly wasn't repulsed
by any of these cleaning or bathroom rituals.  He was, after all,
orchestrating them.  He wasn't getting any sort of sexual charge out of
them either.  I mean he wasn't sitting over there jacking off while he
watched me squat over these makeshift toilets he kept creating.  No, I
think the real purpose was to demonstrate to me just how much power he had
over me, which I had no doubt willingly given him.  In addition, he seemed
to sense what made me uncomfortable and what embarrassed me.  He didn't get
off on seeing me take a dump, he got off on knowing how much I hated the
idea of doing it in front of him.  It wasn't the beatings or the bondage;
it was the degradation and the humiliation.  That was the real turn-on: the
control.

He made his way back to the maid's closet and leaned into the doorway.

"Let it out."

God, finally.  A huge stream of water and debris gushed from my rectum and
into the drain.  What a relief, I thought.  He repeated the process two
more times before the water ran clean enough for him.  He then had me stand
in the center of the room for my bath.  He knotted my hands with a long
rope and then lifted them into the air by tossing the rope over the water
pipes that ran across the ceiling.  Once he had me secured, he hosed me
down and bathed me with liquid soap and a large sponge, quickly but
carefully cleaning every crevice of my body.  While I was still covered in
soap, he shaved clean the hairs from my crotch and asshole, as he had done
last weekend.  He then hosed me down one more time, and left the room,
closing the door behind him.  I heard him secure the padlock from outside.
Were we done?  Was this it for the night?

It had been a long day at work, so having to stand in a hot closet to
drip-dry wasn't the most physically comforting experience.  I really just
wanted to sit down and rest my knees... but my Master wanted me to stand,
so I waited.  Fortunately, he came back about 20 minutes later.

When he came in he closed the door behind him and turn off the overhead
light.  The room was pitch black, and I could see absolutely nothing.  A
few seconds later I felt his body press firmly against my freshly scrubbed
back.  He wrapped his arms around my torso and squeezed me into him.  His
crotch pushed at my ass, and I could feel his hands rubbing the flesh that
surrounded my dick.  He seemed to be inspecting me for stubble.  I loved
the feel of his body pressed against mine, and my dick immediately grew
firm and stood hard in front of me.  He ignored my erection and instead
reached for my ball sac.  He cupped it in his rough black hand and pulled
it, squeezing my balls just enough to pass the pleasure point and send
shivers of pain through my groin.  My dick grew even harder.

"Remember slave," he whispered in my ear, "you are here to serve me and
make me feel good.  So what I don't understand is why you're little dick is
so hard and my cock is so soft.  I'm not in here doing this to give you a
boner, that's your job.  I suggest you spend some time thinking about that.
You're a selfish slave, and selfish slaves are never rewarded.  Now, I'm
going to untie these ropes, and we're going to head back to my room.  You
embarrass me with your little stiff pecker, so don't follow me too
closely."

He turned on the light and untied my hands.  He then retied them behind my
back so that I would be unable to cover my erection and shaved crotch as we
walked down the sidewalk.  Fortunately, the parking lot of the seedy motel
seemed to be quiet, although there were a number of old cars sitting around
and a large rig parked by the dumpster.  The warm night air felt good on my
naked body as we made our way to room 12, but it did nothing to kill the
hard on that bounced up and down in front of me.

The room was dimly lit by a couple of small lamps when we entered.  He had
the drapes open and the window as well.  The room felt of raw summer heat,
and I began to sweat again as soon as we walked in.

"Get on your knees in front of the couch."

As I did, Master stripped out of his khakis and boots.  He beefy black
thighs appeared darker when cast against his clean white jock strap.  He
tugged at his crotch, but didn't expose himself to me, which I found
disappointing.  He then pulled off his navy polo shirt and tossed it on the
bed to reveal the white tank top that he always wore a couple of sizes too
small.  He gut protruded slightly from underneath the moist white cotton
fabric, and the faint smell of sweat began to fill the air in front of me.

"You look thirsty, open up and I'll let you have some of my piss."

He lifted the front of his jock and let his long black cock fall out from
underneath it.  He then placed his left foot on the seat of the couch and
aimed his dick in my direction.

"Come and get it.  We both know how much you like a good hit of my piss."
He grinned a bit as he said it and then looked away from me and in the
direction of the open window, as if he thought someone might be watching.

I crawled on my knees as quickly as I could to his beautiful dark cock.  He
released his urine just as my tongue touched the underside of his long
thick shaft.  I opened up the back of my throat and let the bitter juice
flow into my mouth then pour into my belly.  Master held the back of my
head as he slowly pushed his cock further into my mouth while he pumped my
stomach full of raw piss.  I thought I would gag, but I didn't.  I liked
it, but I hated myself for enjoying the act of being a urinal for this
sixty year-old black Master.

"Since you're down there, go ahead and give my asshole a good
cleaning... get the sweat off of it... and do my sac too."

I tilted my head back and let him lower his sweaty ball sac into my
piss-soaked mouth.  I knew he liked it easy, so I gently licked away the
day's sweat and then sucked each of his round nuts as if they were made of
fine crystal.

"Now my ass.  Clean it, don't fuck it.  You know I don't like tongue up my
ass."

Master put his full black ass over my face and spread his checks with both
hands.  His semi-hard cock hit my forehead as he lowered his butt onto my
mouth.  His ass smelled of both dry and fresh sweat, blended like fine
cologne.  I licked his shitter clean of its sweat and grime and then used
my tongue to tickle his hole in hopes of bringing a smile to his face.  I
so wanted to please him!  He pushed his butt harder against my face and
started to rub his big cock across my forehead as the precum began to ooze
onto my skin.

When his cock grew stiff he directed it back into my mouth and slowly
fucked my face, driving his boner deep down my throat.

"Yeah, that's what's so hot about having a boy, they just love to suck big
black cock.  And you boys are so good at it.  Damn.  Tighten up your mouth
and take the whole thing.  I wanna feel your lips on my stomach.  That's
good.  That's good.  Yeah, that's real good."

Master seemed relaxed for a change, and for the first time, I actually felt
as if he appreciated me.  I don't think he respected me, but he certainly
liked what I was doing.  I'd gotten so into giving him a tongue bath that
I'd forgotten that the window was wide open.  From behind me came the
laughter of several young men.  The Sudanese?  A couple of truckers?  I
didn't know, and I wasn't in a position to look, but I felt safe knowing
that Master seemed unconcerned by the onlookers.

"You guys run along.  Git!"  His command was followed by running footsteps
that faded a few seconds later.

Master pulled his boner from my mouth and tucked it back into his jock and
walked to the bureau to pour himself a drink.  He didn't offer me anything.
Slaves, I thought, don't get offered drinks by their Masters.  I sat
quietly, hands still tied behind me, as he walked around the room,
eventually opening the door to the parking lot.  Naked with the exception
of his tank top and jock strap, he simply stood their leaning against the
door jam, staring out into the dark Carolina night.  He took a few swigs
from his glass and then backed away and closed the door again, locking the
deadbolt.  To be so professional and seemingly focused on the job, he sure
did know how to shed his inhibitions when he "clocked out."  Of course, he
was a man of few words, and he clearly wasn't someone who liked a lot of
chitchat, and he had all but forbidden me to ever speak in his presence
(which I actually kind of liked, considering how much I had to talk while
at work).

"I think I've had enough foreplay and ceremony for one night.  Get up on
the bed so I can fuck you.  I want you on all fours for this, like a little
bitch, so hang your ass off the side of the bed.  I'm gonna do it standing
this time."

I positioned myself as he requested.  My hands were still tied behind me
from earlier in the evening, so I had to put my head on the mattress to
balance myself.  I had hoped he would untie me, but instead he just checked
the ropes and made sure that they weren't too tight or too loose.  Whatever
he wanted, I thought.

Master prefers natural lubricants, so he retrieved his trusty can of Crisco
and smeared a fistful of cold grease between my cheeks.  He roughly
inserted one finger and then two into my hole, forcing the white goo into
my anus.  Finger fucking my butt didn't seem like much of a turn-on for
him.  His work was methodical, quick, and thorough, as if he were working
on a car engine.

Master spent only a minute or so preparing my ass for his cock.  He then
went to work on my cheeks, which he likes "pink."  He removed a wooden
paddle from the collection on the wall and gently placed it against the
center of my butt.

"I want your ass pink when I fuck it.  My advice is that you take it like a
man and keep your mouth shut.  If you struggle, I'll take down one of those
belts and give you a real whippin'."

He pulled back his arm and let the paddle crack the flesh of my ass:
"SCHMACK!"  I flinched slightly as the sting surged through me.  He hit me
a second time, "SCHMACK!" then again and again and again... "SCHMACK!
SCHMACK!  SCHMACK!"

As he reddened my flesh I bit into the bedspread and fought back tears and
the desire to scream STOP!  I remember thinking that the difference between
wanting to be spanked and having to endure an actual beating is far greater
than most men realize.  The pain was horrible.  He continued to hit me, not
really punishing me, just reminding me of his power: SCHMACK, SCHMACK,
SCHMACK!

When the beating stopped, Master laid the paddle on the bed under my
semi-hard dick and then took hold of my wrists that were still tied at the
small of my back.  I heard him lower his jock strap.  A few seconds later,
he shoved it my mouth.  It tasted of fresh sweat, which hit my tongue like
a drug.  I felt his round gut press against my tailbone and the head of his
dark black cock rub the ring of my greasy puckered asshole.  Despite the
pain inflicted by his paddle, I could feel the mushroom head push through
the grease and force its way into me.  Within a few seconds he had buried
the entire shaft into my chute.  He shoved his rod all of the way in, never
pausing, but once inside, he waited for my bowels to adjust and for my
sphincter to relax around his cock before he began the hard, deep fucking.

I knew that at this point, I was merely the vessel, not a man nor a boy nor
a woman, just a suitable hole for his dick to fill.  This as what I really
wanted: for him to use me.  I braced myself for his fat black cock.  He
reached forward and put both of his dark rough hands on my shoulders and
pulled my whole torso toward him.  I was impaled.  He raised his hips back
an inch or two then slammed his whole body into me, driving his fat cock
deep into my ass.

"Make your ass real tight...  Squeeze your hole on my dick...  I wanna feel
every muscle."

I squeezed my ass as tightly as I could, like I do when I take a shit.  His
cock started to move back and forth, burning the flesh around my asshole.
When he fucks me, he's relentless.  He gave me a few long deep strokes,
very slowly, and then he quickly picked up the pace.  For a sixty year-old
man, he has an amazing sex drive.  He used his 8-inch hard on to completely
wreck my chute for the next 15 minutes or so, pounding my backside like a
jackhammer ripping into a concrete sidewalk.  After about every 20 strokes,
he'd pull out and smack my ass with an open hand to keep my cheeks a fresh
shade of red and to keep his cock from blowing its load too quickly.

As is his nature, Master says very little when he's fucking me, and I'm
allowed to say nothing at all.  So as the assault took place, I could hear
only his heavy breathing, an occasional "yeah," and the sounds of his hot
sweat-soaked flesh slamming against my ass.  As his passion for my hole
increased to the point of explosion, he slowed down and pulled his hard
dick out of my aching ass.  He caught his breath and then slapped my thighs
and buttocks again with his hand and then rubbed his greasy cock between my
legs on the underside of my ballsac, as if to remind me that his was more
powerful than mine.

"I need a break.  Don't move."  He pulled his jock from my mouth and tossed
it on the bed beside me.

I heard him light a cigarette and prepare a drink (scotch, probably) before
sitting on the edge of the black leather recliner.  The smell of burning
tobacco filled my nostrils as it swirled around over the center of the
room.  I tried to catch my breath and to relax my muscles while at the same
time trying hard not to move, as he had instructed.  I noticed that my cock
was fully engorged and was pressing against my stomach.  It was dripping
with precum, and I knew that I had been just seconds from cumming.  Master
doesn't like me to cum, so I was relieved that he had chosen to take a
break.  If I had cum, the whipping would have been horrible, and I would do
anything to avoid the collection of belts that hung prominently on the dark
red wall.

When Master finished his cigarette, he retrieved a black rubber butt plug
from a drawer and forced it into my greasy ass.  I knew that the plug was
to keep me fresh for later, and to keep my cock stimulated and near orgasm.
Not allowed to cum, but not allowed to go soft either, I was forced to
fight off the inevitable in hopes of avoiding the lash.  To make matters
worse, I now had to piss, which only made my cock throb all the more
intensely.

He smacked my ass a few times after it had been plugged, then he placed a
pair of leather-wrapped handcuffs on my wrists so that he could then untie
the ropes that he'd used to bind my arms behind my back earlier in the
evening.  He then rolled me onto my back with my ass still on the edge of
the bed.  My feet and legs fell to the floor momentarily (they ached), but
he was not pleased to see this.  He slapped my thighs and directed me to
lift them again so that my plugged ass was exposed for him to see.

He placed two black straps around my ankles and buckled each one in place
then attached a heavy silver chain to each strap and attached the chains to
two s-hooks that extended from the ceiling.  The hooks were several feet
apart, so my legs were spread wide and fully extended, perpendicular to the
floor.  I was now completely immobile and vulnerable to virtually anything
that he might have in mind for me.  But what did he want to do?

Apparently, enjoy the view.  After Master had secured me into this
position, he poured himself another drink and retired to the couch under
the window.  He lit a cigarette and spent the next few minutes staring
intently at his bound boy with the plug up his ass.  He said nothing, and
the room was so quiet that I could hear every drag on the cigarette and
every sip of the scotch.

Suddenly, Master stood up and opened the drapes to the window above his
head.  The light from the sidewalk drifted into the room and mixed with the
dim glow of the lamp on the bureau.  He sat back down, out of sight from
passers-by.  I felt exposed, embarrassed, and humiliated.  My thoughts
drifted to the students who attended the college where I worked and then to
the faculty and staff.  What if one of our students or a member of the
faculty had snuck out to have a secret encounter with a local hooker?  What
if a student were using the motel for a secret tryst with an instructor?
Here I was, spread eagle and butt naked, with my car in the lot, for anyone
to see.  How horrific would it be if a couple of frat boys wondered by and
caught a glimpse of a respected employee playing slave boy to an aging
black master?  The thought of it made my dick even harder.

I couldn't see him from my position, but I could feel him, just sitting
there, out of view and under the window, basically naked and enjoying the
sight of his slave-as-public-spectacle.  I felt like an Amsterdam whore
showing off her cunt to passing tourists in the red light district.

The combination of heat and humiliation must have been too much for me,
because at some point I fell asleep.  I've no idea how long I slept, but
the burning sting of a belt on the back of my thighs woke me as if
lightning had struck my flesh: THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

"AAAGGGHHH!"  I screamed out as I woke up in shock from the sharp pain, not
even aware of where I was for a brief moment.

"Shut up.  I didn't tell you to sleep, I told you I needed a break."

"THWACK! THWACK!"

"You sleep when I tell you to."

"THWACK! THWACK!"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sor...."

"I SAID SHUT UP!  THWACK THACK THWACK!!!"

My silence was too late in coming.  He stopped whipping me just long enough
to shove his jock strap into my mouth again.  This time it didn't taste of
sweat, but of piss.  At some point he had soaked it with his own urine, I
assume, in anticipation of this very moment.  The piss I tasted wasn't that
fresh or warm.  The acrid flavor and foul odor reminded me of an unwashed
public toilet.  I felt nauseous, but I knew that I had to endure it.

Master ripped the plug from my butt and applied a fresh handful of Crisco
to my ass, which he roughly smeared into my open hole.  He then found a
larger plug, about the size of a fist, and forced it into me.  I tried not
to scream, but the pain was brutal, so I bit down onto the vile cloth and
tensed up every muscle I had to avoid more lashings.  At this point I
wanted to run, to free myself from the bondage and get the hell away from
the entire scene.  But I was powerless to do anything.  My legs were raised
and chained to the ceiling; my hands were cuffed behind my back; I was
choking on a rank jock strap.  What could I do?  I had willingly
surrendered myself with a pledge of total servitude just one week before,
and now I was getting exactly what I deserved: a nightmare of pain and
degradation.

"Look at me."  Through fresh tears, I turned my head to the side and looked
directly at him.  He stood next to the bed.  The beefy black and greying
figure was covered in sweat that seemed to drip from his form like water
from a faucet.  His white tank was soaked and clung tightly to his torso,
and his gut was protruding from underneath it.  He long semi-erect cock
with the white pubic hair was hanging between his muscled thighs.  Although
dark black in color, I could see the many veins that covered the shaft as
they pumped blood through its length.  He was angry at me... and
frustrated.

"I don't know a lot about training a slave, but I know enough to know that
slaves don't just fall asleep without their masters' permission.  I got a
few meth freaks staying upstairs who'll do just about anything for a fix.
You do that one more time, and you'll find yourself playing party whore to
them for the next few weekends... and I KNOW you don't want that."

Master placed a thick pillow under my neck and aimed my face at the open
window.  He then removed his jock from my mouth and replaced it with the
smaller butt plug he'd recently pulled from my ass.  The taste of rubber,
Crisco, and my own rectum was like nothing I'd ever experienced.  I felt
like a baby sucking on the world's biggest pacifier.

He tossed the jock onto the floor and then pulled on his khaki trousers and
a baseball cap.  He turned on the overhead light, filling the room with a
mass of unwanted brightness, and left the room with a loud slamming of the
door.

I stared straight ahead into the open window and watched him walk past
without even looking in.  I was alone, left to fend for myself like a
sideshow freak in the circus... just because I fell asleep.

Over the next hour or so, a host of freaks and weirdoes made their way past
room 12.  Fortunately no one I knew happened by, but I got a endless stream
of gawkers who felt free to loiter, stare, comment, and catcall at the
bound slave boy on display for their enjoyment.  Finally, Master returned.
I'd never been so happy to see anyone in my life.  If the sidewalk were any
indication, the motel was hopping with scum, and I was starting to fear for
my life.  My heart sank, however, when I realized that he wasn't alone.
Right behind him was what I can only describe as a somewhat high class
Latin whore.

"Well, well Paulus.  What the hell is this?"  She was clearly not a native,
as her accent was heavy with Puerto Rican undertones.

"Ignore him.  You want a drink?"

I was hard to ignore, but she did her best as she stretched out on the
leather couch while waiting for a scotch.  We watched each other as Master
busied himself with their drinks.  She was a pretty young woman who wore
way too much make-up for someone with her features.  She wore a bright red
button front mini-dress with a low cut neckline and a gold lame` belt that
accentuated her small waist and full hips.  Her matching gold heels seemed
to be a bit worn, and around her neck hung several gold chains that fell
into her heavy bosom.  The large wad of gum she chewed with her mouth
slightly open further damaged her beauty.  She was intrigued by me, but not
repulsed.  I imagine that she was wondering what role I was to play in this
hook-up.  Truth be told, so was I.

Master seemed a bit giddy as he handed her the drink.  She thanked him as
he pulled the drapes and dimmed the lights slightly.  He was smiling and
clearly looking forward to whatever it was she was here to do.

He sat on the arm of the couch and gently ran his fingers through her long
wavy hair.  She giggled at the attention, and then sat up and turned toward
him.

"Is this an all-nighter or just an hour thing?"

"Not an all-nighter, baby.  I just need some lovin' from my favorite lady.
Maybe an hour or so, then you can be on your way."

"What am I supposed to do with that?" she pointed at me as she said it.

"Nothing.  He's just gonna watch."

"250 bucks then... well, ok, I'll go 200, but only cause I like you."

"You got it."  Master pulled a wad of 20's from his pocket and handed her
the requested amount, which she tucked into her gold purse.

"Now why don't her show me those big titties I love so much."

The whore slowly unbuttoned the top half of her dress to reveal two huge
breasts that spilled out and bounced in front of her.  Her large nipples
were dark brown and erect, like two very tiny cocks.  She rubbed them with
her fingertips and then gripped them from below and squeezed them together,
aiming the entire mound at her latest john.  She grinned at him and licked
her upper lip as if to entice him to reach for them.

Master stood up and unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them to the floor.
He stepped out of them and grabbed his rock-hard cock and leaned forward.
She opened her breasts and let him place his big black dick between them.
They both sighed and she closed herself around his rod and gently ran her
tongue over his belly.  He finally removed his white tank and tossed it on
the floor.  She leaned back into the couch, allowing Master to slowly fuck
her "big titties."

"Let's get you out of that dress, baby."  Master unbuttoned the bottom half
of her shirt-dress and opened it to reveal a black sequined g-string, which
he pulled down to her knees and then off over her gold pumps.  He sniffed
the crotch of the panty and grinned at the whore with an approving smile.

Master sat down on the couch and spread his legs.  The whore dropped to the
floor and went to work on his hard cock.  He leaned back and stared at the
ceiling while she wiggled her ass back and forth as she sucked on his meat.

"Oh baby, now that's what I like.  Oh yeah, ain't no better cocksucker than
you.  Damn, I sure have been needing this!"

The whore mumbled something and the two of them laughed at their mutual
enjoyment.  She wiggled her ass again and ran her long fingernails across
his pecs and nipples as she sucked on MY MASTER'S COCK.  Jealousy rushed
through me as I watched her pleasure him in a way that only I should be
allowed to do.  I hated her.  I hated every inch of her cheap rented body,
but I was powerless to do anything but watch.

She took her time and he seemed to be in no hurry to finish, but eventually
he stopped her and sat up on the edge of the couch.

"Now how about giving me a taste of that prized coochie?  Get up here and
show me that good stuff you got."

She stood up in her gold heels and ran her fingers through her hair.  He
leaned back again and she climbed onto the couch with her ass aimed in my
direction.  He put his face in her crotch and pulled her body toward him.
She fell against the covered window and grabbed onto the back of the sofa
as he ate her pussy like a starving animal.

"Ooooh Paulus.  Slow down hon... we got time."

Master rubbed his hard cock with his hand and held onto her ass with the
other as she slowly pumped his face with her cunt.  Yuk, I thought.  How on
earth could he get so much pleasure from eating the pussy of a
streetwalker?  I was so confused.  I didn't even realize he liked pussy.
And I certainly didn't think that someone like him would ever pay for it.
I'd never even gotten so much as a handjob from him, much less a blowjob.
Now I knew why.

"Oh damn Paulus, you gonna make me cum all over you baby.  Ooooh, yeah.
Damn, my pussy feels so good."

"Mmmm.  Love that pussy juice.  Cum for me Tina.  Let me have it."

So that was the bitch's name: Tina.  Well, Tina started grinding her crotch
harder into Masters face as she oooed and aaahhed her way to a hip shaking
orgasm.  I have no idea what that kind of thing really looks like up close,
but Master seemed to love it and quickly gobbled up everything she had,
whatever that was.

 After she came, she slid her body down onto his and locked lips with him
to get a nice taste of her own cunt.  Master's cock was still at full
strength and was clearly wet with precum.

"Now how about we get going on what I really need."

"You gonna fuck me aren't ya," she asked in a teasing whorish sort of way.

"Oh yeah, like I never fucked you before."  (Before?!)

Tina climbed off of the couch and turned around to face me then bent over
from the waist and showed off her goods to Master.  He licked his fingers
and then rubbed her pussy from her backside and told her to "Climb on."

She stepped back onto the couch and lowered her shaved crotch onto his
waiting dick.  I watched it as it disappeared into her cunt as if it were
the most natural thing in the world for it to do.  She rubbed her clit with
her long fingernail as a sign that she clearly enjoyed being fucked.

He wrapped his arms around her and pushed his hands into her massive bust
and played with her tits and nipples as she slowly bounced up and down on
his dick.  I watched, mesmerized, at the sight of his cock sliding in and
out of her while she twitched and moaned in increasing ecstasy.  It was
horrible.

Over the next half hour Master and Tina switched positions again and again,
making full use of the couch, the floor, and the nearby recliner.  He
certainly had a lot of staying power, and she certainly loved this man's
cock.

Finally, Master stopped long enough to change positions one last time.

"I want you to bend over the bed."

"Next to your boy?"

No, over him.  Between his legs.  I suspect he's never seen the likes of a
real woman, so why don't we show him a little something."

"Ewww, sound like fun.  Kinky.  I like it!"

Tina hopped up and approached the bed to get a closer look at me.  She
rubbed her long nails on my extended legs and looked down at my bloated
cock.

"Poor thing.  Not much of a dicky, huh?  And so hard it is.  Where's your
hair honey?  Did you shave off your pubes?  Paulus, what's in his mouth?  A
Passy?  Looks like a big ole pacifier.  Who IS this anyway?"

"Just some faggot who likes a good beating every once in a while.  That's a
buttplug.  He had it up his ass earlier, now he's sucking it clean.  It's
ok, he likes it."

"Well that's just nasty," she said, without the slightest bit of irony.
"You might get a disease or something."

"Just bend over, baby, and hang those pretty titties over him while I fuck
you.  He's probably never seen titties like those."

"Sure hon, but your hour's about to expire, so let's make this quick.  I
gotta bolt soon."

Tina dropped her naked body over me and held herself up by placing her arms
on either side of my chest.  Her massive breasts dangled over my stomach,
the tips of her nipples grazing my skin.

Master positioned himself behind her and pushed his dick into her dripping
cunt.  He wasted no time and immediately started ramming her backside in a
manner with which I was very familiar.

"Damn Paulus, Damn.  Ease up, hon.  Ooo, ooo, ooo!  Damn.  Aaah, yeah.  Go
on baby, fuck my little twat.  Aaaah yeah, fuck me Paulus, fuck me good."

He did fuck her "good."  Good and hard.  Her tits waved over me like a
flag.  She knew how grotesque I found this to be as she laughed at me
between her groans.

"How's that shitty passy?  Taste good, does it?  Hmmmm, bet you'd like some
of what I'm getting', huh?  I bet you like a good stiff one up your butt,
don't you?"

"UUUUggghh!"  Master finally blew his load into the whore's cunt.  Finally,
I thought.  Finally.  Now the tramp could leave and maybe Master would at
least let me lower my legs.

"Damn, you sure are one nice piece Tina.  That was hot."

Tina stood up and turned around to give Master a nice kiss.

"Now how about you feed the boy something, he's probably hungry."

"Feed him what?"  (Stupid cunt, I thought.  Even I knew what he meant.)

"Get up there and squeeze out my stuff for him.  He'll love it."

"Damn Paulus, you sure are showing me your freaky side tonight.  All right,
anything for you."

Tina giggled as she climbed onto the bed and lowered her stinking,
cum-filled pussy onto my face.  "You won't be needing this," she said as
she pulled the plug from my mouth.  "Now open up and have a taste."

Absolutely not, I thought.  No way in hell I was going to let her put her
pussy on my mouth.  Master, however, had other ideas.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll open up that mouth and do what she
says."

As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't.  I just could not do it.

"How about I fuck him instead... He's hard as a rock, Paulus."

"No.  Just squeeze it out onto his face.  I'll deal with him later."  Shit.

Tina pulled open the lips of her cunt and let a few streams of Master's
jizz drip onto my nose, lips, and chin.  She found the whole thing to be
absolutely hysterical, but Master wasn't laughing.

After that, she checked the clock, hurriedly dressed and slipped out the
door without even so much as a goodbye.  Off to the next john, I figured.

Master locked the door with the deadbolt and reached for a thick black belt
from the wall.  He folded it in half and snapped it a few times to indicate
his anger.  Where was this coming from?  I'd never seen this side of him
before.  Then again, I didn't really know him, so God only knew what I'd
gotten myself into.  Anyway, he was furious, and I knew what was coming
next.

Suffice it to say that I'd never received a beating like the one I got that
night.  Master was embarrassed that I'd refused to drink his cum from the
cunt of his favorite whore, and he let me know it, not with words, but with
a brutal whipping.  I won't describe it here, because it's just too painful
to put on paper.  He whipped me 30 times (I counted, and still remember
every stroke), and I still have a few scars to show for it.  He had to gag
me again, only this time he used the larger butt plug that had been in my
ass during Tina's visit.  I cried throughout, and continued to cry for a
long time afterward.

When he had finally proven his point, he retired to the recliner with an
entire bottle of scotch, along with a fistful of cigarettes as well.

At around 2am, when the world outside had quieted down somewhat, Master
dressed and unhooked my leg chains from the ceiling.

"Don't move.  I'll be back."

He left and returned a few minutes later.  He pulled me off of the bed and
tossed an army blanket over my shoulders.  Not the meth room I thought.
God, not the meth room!

I followed him down the sidewalk to the maid's closet, still handcuffed,
and dragging the ankle chains behind me.  He opened the door and led me
inside.  On the floor was an old single mattress that had seen better days,
and a loaf of bread sitting next to it.

"You'll stay here 'til Sunday.  In the meantime, you can think about what
my rules are, and next weekend we'll see what you've learned.  You'd be
wise to keep your mouth shut."

And with that, he shut the door and padlocked it from the outside.  I was a
prisoner, naked, whipped to within an inch of collapse, and physically
exhausted.  I didn't know what to do first: sleep, eat, piss, drink, whack
off?  I needed to do all of it.  For the next 36 hours I sat on the
mattress, handcuffed and dripping in sweat, praying that he would come back
and release me.  He never did.

On Sunday afternoon he came in and removed my chains and dog collar.  I'd
eaten all of the bread he'd left, and I had managed to turn on the hose for
the occasional drink of water.  He told me to bathe, and that he's be back
to dress me in half an hour.  Free of my shackles, I cleaned up and
stretched my aching muscles.  When he returned, he had my clothes in a
grocery bag along with my car keys.

"You're free to go.  Do NOT be late next week."  He turned and disappeared.

He left the door open, so I dressed quickly and made my way to the car.  I
walked past room 12 and looked inside as I passed.  It was empty and
perfectly clean.

As I drove out of the lot, I noticed Tina, leaning against an old car with
a young Mexican drifter.  She had her hand on his cock, which was
protruding from his open fly, and she was giving him a handjob.  Her large
left breast was hanging out from underneath a bright green halter-top.  He
was rubbing her nipple between his fingertips and kissing her on her neck.
She caught a glimpse of me as I drove toward her.  They stopped what they
were doing and both looked in my direction.  She whispered something and he
laughed as he watched me pass.  He knew what she'd done, and he knew what I
was.  It infuriated me, but it gave me an erection, which I cursed all the
way home.

CXG