Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 23:42:04 -0600
From: Christian Gartrip <christianxgartrip@gmail.com>
Subject: Master Paulus - Part 4 (Gay Authoritarian and Gary Interracial)

Master Paulus - Part 4
I've Never Been A Betting Man

By: Christian Xavier Gartrip

(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)


On this particular Friday, I had managed to slip away from work a few hours
early.  I treated myself to a nice dinner at a local restaurant and then
headed out to Master's motel.  It was the first weekend of October, but
this is the south, so it was still warm and humid, which I actually enjoy.
I hate cold weather.

I arrived at 5:45pm; well within the allotted timeframe he gave me a few
months ago.  When I pulled into the parking lot, I found Master standing on
the sidewalk, only this time he wasn't alone.  He and someone who appeared
to be of a similar age and race (both are black) were watching me with
interest.  Master waited until I backed into my space then the two of them
walked toward my car.  I was nervous.  This was out of character, and I
didn't like it.

When I stepped out of the car I felt immediately dwarfed by the two larger,
older, and taller gentlemen who were standing before me.  Master had a
white towel tucked under his arm, which was also a bit odd.

"Pop the trunk,... make it quick.  I ain't got all night."  Master was
referring to the trunk of my car, in which I am required to place my
clothing, wallet, jewelry, and cell phone before proceeding naked into the
room we use, room 12.  He typically comes in later.  This is the first time
he'd met me at the car.

"Now get out of your clothes and get down on your knees... NOW."

I stripped quickly and dropped to my knees.  The friend simply stood by and
watched before finally speaking.  "Damn Paulus, when you said you'd been
training a boy, I thought you meant some Mexican kid who sucked your cock
every Tuesday afternoon.  I had no idea that you were talking 'bout a white
man.  Damn.  What's he do?"

"He does whatever I need him to do, and when he doesn't, I whip him.
Mostly I just fuck him, but he's pretty much trained to do whatever I need
him to do," said Master in what could only be described as a classic case
of understatement.

"Like that whore who used to let me turn her over my knee and spank her
before we'd all take turns fuckin' her that summer in N'Orleans?"

"Yeah, kinda, but more like that guy in those S&M movies we used to watch
in DC at that bookstore," said Master.

"Whoa!  That was some sick shit.  Damn.  Show me."

"Open your mouth boy, I need to piss."

I opened my mouth and Master unzipped his fly and pulled out his black cock
and dropped it onto my tongue.  Holding the back of my head, he let loose a
stream of hot piss, which I swallowed for him... spilling not one drop.

"Dang, he is a nasty little fuck, huh."

"Yeah.  He'll do."  The men grinned at each other as Master put his dick
away, but they basically just ignored me... something I'd grown used to.

"Wanna see something really sick?"

"Uh... I guess."

"Boy, get off your knees and squat down like a dog and then put your hands
on the bumper of the car.  Don't fuck with me, just DO it."

'Uh-oh' was all I could think as he barked his orders at me while I
positioned myself like he ordered..

"What you gonna do, fuck him out here in the daylight?"

"No.  Just watch."  Master paused and stood back a little, leaning on the
old Toyota sitting in the space next to mine.

"Take a shit...  NOW!"

DamnitDamnitDamnit!  Why does he do this to me?

Master's friend hooted with laughter when he heard this.  Master, however,
wasn't laughing.  As I paused I saw him reach up to unfasten his belt.
Just the thought of being horsewhipped in the parking lot was enough to
produce the required response.

I did as I was told.

"JesusFuckingChrist, Paulus!  I ain't never seen THAT before... Jeeezus
Fuckin' Christ."

I thought I would die.

"Yeah, he'll do anything to avoid a whipping... of course, sometimes I
think he actually LIKES a hard lashin' if you know what I mean.  Boy, stand
up and spread your legs."

Master grabbed my neck and pushed my head onto the trunk of my car.  He
took his towel and wiped my ass quickly and without a lot of attention to
details, then tossed the towel into the grass.

"Now get inside and wait for me.  I'll be in later.  The door's unlocked."

As I walked to the room with my head down, I could hear the two of them
yucking it up behind me.  God, I really wanted to die.  Who on earth was
this friend, and why did he get to see me do THAT?  I walked into the dark
room and bent over the bed with my ass open to the window for anyone to see
who might pass by.  Master came in about an hour later, alone.

Master first soaked a washcloth in cold water and wipe my ass again.  Then,
as punishment for "pausing" in the parking lot, I received 10 (Master's
favorite number) licks with an old piece of thick leather that I think once
graced the side of a barber's chair.  After receiving my punishment, Master
"groomed me" by subjecting me to the standard shaving and bathing rituals.
He never said a word to me during the entire hour we were alone together.
There was no music, no TV, just total silence.  It was eerie.

At seven o'clock he cuffed me to the foot of the bed and positioned me on
my knees and elbows.  He hung the enema bag over my head and filled my ass
with a quart of warm water.

"Don't fucking move."  He then smacked my ass with his palm twice and
walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

At this point in our relationship I knew better than to try to figure out
his next move.  I had no idea what the weekend would bring.  At that point
my main concern was how long I would have to hold this gut full of water,
and whether or not I would see that man in the parking lot again.

Twenty minutes later, Master returned with a couple of bags of groceries
(unusual), which he dropped on the sofa.  He placed a bucket on the floor,
uncuffed my hands from the bed frame, and then placed me on the can.
"Shit," he said.  I did, gladly.

He then filled my ass a second time with more water and immediately
commanded my to evacuate that load as well.  After I was sufficiently
empty, he sent me to the grassy area near the parking lot (naked) to empty
my bucket.  Knowing that it would need to be cleaned as well, I stopped off
at the maid's closet and rinsed it out and then returned to room 12 where
Master stood waiting to give my "cunt" a final alcohol bath.  At this point
I was starting to feel like a kid being readied for bed before the grown-up
party gets started.  But with such a squeaky clean gut, I had the feeling
that I should assume something a little different.

It didn't take long for me to deduce that Master was having company.  While
I sat cuffed and curled in the corner, Master busied himself with a
makeshift bar, ashtrays, and bowls of nuts, chips, and dip.  Master then
set up the card table and placed four chairs around it.  He took a few
cigarette breaks, drank a beer at about 7:30, and then dumped a load of
piss down my throat at about 7:45.  Think "Mister" preparing for his
whore's arrival in the Color Purple.  It kind of made me laugh, but only on
the inside.

A few minutes before the clock struck eight, Master approached me.  "Boy,
I'm only gonna say this once.  In a few minutes, my 3 closest buddies are
gonna walk through that door, and we're gonna play poker.  We ain't been
together since last April and we need this.  And you're gonna be the one
providin' the prizes.  Tonight, you're gonna do whatever we tell you to do
and they'd better have one hell of a good time doin' it.  You even so much
as think about embarrassin' me, and I'll drag your ass out of here and
you'll spend the weekend chained to a tree fight'n off the Mexicans.  I
ain't playin' with you, boy.  You get what I'm tellin' you?  HUH?  Speak to
me, boy!"

"yes sir"

"What?"

"yes sir master, yes sir"

I knew from the look in his eyes that he meant what he said.  I didn't know
who these guys were, but they were important to Master, so I made a promise
to myself to be good.

There was a knock at the door.

Master gave the room a "once over" then made a few adjustments to his belt
collection before he opened the door.  In walked 3 aging black men.
Similar, but different.  Army buddies, I thought...  Army all the way.

As is generally the case with reunions, the four old friends spent the
first few minutes hugging and back-slapping and celebrating each other.
Oh, don't get me wrong, every one of them knew that there was a naked white
man chained in the corner, they just didn't feel the need to acknowledge me
at that point.  Being ignored gave me the chance to observe and size up
each one of them.  I'll try to elaborate.

To begin with, none of these men struck me as the sadistic type, much less
gay or bisexual.  Of course, Master seems pretty innocuous to the casual
observer, and I never would have guessed that Molly and Andy would have
been such a freak-filled pair of morons.  So okay, I guess I'm not the best
judge of character.  But still, these 3 graying gents seemed more
grandfather than grandmaster.

First up is "Rog" (Roger, I guess to be his full name).  Rog is the friend
who watched me humiliate myself in the parking lot earlier in the evening.
He was the closest to Master in size and build.  Both are about 6 ft tall,
beefy, dark-skinned and warm with others.  They are like brothers.  Rog,
however, wore a gold earring, eyeglasses, and dressed like a cowboy.  He
wore a black Stetson, jeans, plaid shirt (unbuttoned to the navel to expose
his expanding gut) and a suede, fringed vest.  And of course, black cowboy
boots.  He was kind of hot for an old beefy black cowboy.  Odd looking, but
hot.

Joey is the really tall one.  He also goes by Joe.  The two names seem
pretty interchangeable.  Whatever.  Joe is bald (shaved) and sports a jet
black goatee that stands out against his medium-to-dark skin.  He's the
tallest AND the lightest AND the thinnest.  His fingers are long and
skinny, unusually so, and he is never without a cigarette.  He reeks of
nicotine, but no one really seems to notice.  Joes grins a lot, laughs a
lot, and jokes a lot.  He also talks a lot.  He's the extrovert of the
group.  You always know what Joe is thinking because Joe will always tell
you.  Joe is wearing a tracksuit of royal blue with white piping and white
basketball shoes.  He sports a few gold chains on one wrist and a gold
watch on the other.  At one point Joe winked at me from across the room
before I was officially presented.  Oh yeah, he wanted it.  It really
wasn't much of a secret.  He was also the first to acknowledge Master's
belt collection.  He found them fascinating.  Joe, I thought, was going to
be a handful.

And finally, there is Rev.  Just Rev.  Reverend?  Revis?  I don't really
know.  They just called him Rev.  Rev is the brooding one, the observant
one and the menacing one.  He seemed a bit angry at the world.  I've no
proof of course.  I mean, he seemed happy to be there with his buds, but I
had a hard time reading him at first.  He seemed to lack any actual "joy".
Anyway, he's shorter than Master, about 5'10 maybe.  He's dark-skinned like
Master and Rog, but he doesn't really have graying hair like they
do... just a little around his ears.  Rev wore a long black wool coat (like
a reverend or a banker), which I thought odd considering how warm it was.
Underneath he had on a long-sleeve white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers.  He
was thinner with only a slight paunch showing around his waist.  In a
crowd, you probably wouldn't notice him.  When he smiles, he doesn't show
teeth.  He just grins.

Master was of course the fourth member of this quartet.  He seemed the
happiest of them all.  Clearly, he loved these three men.  They were his
best friends.  He was dressed in his standard issue khaki work pants, a
black polo shirt, and a pair of black lace-up boots, freshly polished.  He
wears no jewelry (aside from the occasional cock ring).

For at least half an hour the old friends listened to Ike and Tina Turner,
ate handfuls of peanuts and chips, drank several beers a piece, and mostly
gossiped and played "catch-up" with each others' lives.  Typical stuff.  As
I mentioned, Joe was the most anxious to engage the naked white boy in the
corner, so it didn't surprise me to find that he was the first to actually
mention me in conversation.  What surprised me was the sudden quiet that
filled the room when he did.  Damn, I really was the pink elephant that no
one wanted to talk about.

"So Paulus.  What's up with the white boy?"

Quiet.

Master finally grinned and stood up and looked over at his buddy Rog.

"Rog, why don't you tell 'em."

"Well my brothers, it seems that ole Paulus has been holdin' out on us a
bit.  Apparently he's found time to buy himself a slave boy to train and
keep here in this motel of ours for his amusement.  Oh.  And he's one nasty
little bitch too.  Believe me, I witnessed it first hand earlier today."

"Whatcha mean by 'nasty,'" asked Rev.

"He's nasty... REAL nasty."  He looked at Paulus for some sort of sign then
proceeded with his story.  "Today when he pulled up to the motel, Paulus
had him strip down nekkid in the parking lot and get down on his knees.
Paulus then whipped out his dick and pissed a blue streak in his boy's
mouth.  Just like a toilet.  Nasty."

"Damn..." grinned Joe.

"And that ain't all."

"What else he do?" asked Rev, now a little more curious.

"Well, Paulus had him take a crap right there on the pavement.  He didn't
like it much, but he did it... just 'cause Paulus told to I guess.  Nasty."

"Double Damn," blurted Joe while the others just stared at me.

At this point in the evening I was starting to experience that "I'm not
human" kind of thing I wrote about in a previous chapter.  To be honest, I
was feeling a bit like dessert... and not in a good way.  The discussion of
my parking lot humiliations made me feel like a child or an untrained dog.
I guess that's why Master had me do it.  He WANTED them to discuss it in
front of me because he knew how horrified I would be.  Clearly, I was not
their equal.  I wasn't even a member of their species.

"So how about that card game, huh guys?"  This was Master trying to dictate
the evening's agenda.

"Let's go," said Rev, seconding Paulus' motion.

Now as a gay man, I don't play poker.  I've never played poker, and I've
never even wanted to learn to play poker.  Don't expect me to provide you
with many details, because it was all Greek to me.  I will say that they
played with chips, not money, and that they seemed to be playing the game
called Texas Hold 'em, which I have always assumed was the most common
version.  If not, then I'm sorry.  It's the best I can do.  So let the
games begin.

Rev was the first man to deal the cards.  Joe, however, was the first to
speak up.

"So Paulus," grinned the tall lanky Joe, "Rog said that boy o' yors drank
your piss earlier.  He always do that for you?"

"Well he does if I tell him to."

"Well, I was jus' thinkin', I mean I'm sitting here with a bladder full o'
beer and you got a boy over there who drinks piss, so I just thought you
might let me have a crack at it.  Ya know?"

"Ha, something told me you'd be the first to ask... something told me."

Joe just grinned until Paulus said, "Have at it. That's why he's here."

"Hot damn!"  Joe jumped up and strolled over to my corner.  "Open up boy.
Have a taste."

Joe pushed his trackpants down to his knees and leaned forward until his
forehead was pressed against the wall.  He held out a long veiny snake of a
cock, uncut and hairless, and waved it around in front of my face.  I sat
up as best I could (cuffs you know), and opened by mouth for him.  He
started pissing before he even got the tip of his dick into my mouth.
Fortunately he had good aim.  He put his hands on my shoulders and held me
in place as he emptied his sizable load into my throat.  I could certainly
taste the beer.  His piss was strong and bitter, matching the potency of
the nicotine smell that seeped from his skin.  I kind of liked it.

The others sat silently at the table watching the scene from a distance.

When Joe finished pissing into my mouth, he shook the remaining drops onto
my chin and tucked his cock back into his pants.  He then belched loudly
and turned around to face his friends.  "NEXT!"

"I gotta piss too," announced Rev.  This one surprised me.  Rev really
didn't seem to be the type... he was very uptight.

"Have at it," said Master.

Rev finished dealing the cards then pushed away from the table.  Then he
did something that really surprised me.  He walked to the edge of the bed,
sat down and removed his tennis shoes.  He then stood up, unbuttoned his
jeans and stepped completely out of them.  He was wearing a lime green
jock, which he removed as well.  Naked from the waist down, he walked over
and grabbed my chin with his right hand, squeezing my mouth just a bit.
His cock was already semi-hard, which also surprised me.

"Have some piss, fag."

Rev pushed his cock past my teeth and squeezed out a hot load of urine as
fast as he could shoot it.  It almost made me gag.  He was really into
this.  Again, it took me totally by surprise.  When he was done, his cock
had softened a bit, and I able to get a glance at it.  It was dark like he
was, longer than my own cock (I'm about 6"), and capped by a really fat and
bright pink mushroom head, which seemed out of place.  He never redressed
himself.  He just walked back to the table, cock swinging, and picked up
his cards as he sat down.

"I'm good," announced Rog.  He meant that he didn't feel the need to piss
in my mouth like his friends had done.  Master shrugged his shoulders and
the foursome began to play.  None of them seemed bothered by Rev's sudden
need for partial nakedness.  Maybe they were kind of freaky after all.

Joe "won" the first hand.  He cheered and pulled his chips in from the
center of the table, and then reached for a beer.

"So what's your pleasure, Joe?"  This was Master, asking a cryptically
worded question.

"Uh, whatcha mean?"

"The boy.  What's your pleasure?  He's all yours for the next few minutes."

"Reeeaallly?  You serious Paulus?"

"As a heart attack."

Rev looked over at me as the conversation between Joe and Master heated up.

"Well.  Since you put it that way.  How about having your boy sit here
under the table, and I'll have him suck on my cock while we play the next
hand.  How's that?"

"Okay with me.  Whatever you want."

"Paulus, I gotta piss.  Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure Rog, go ahead."  So it was Roger who was the squeamish one when it
came to boys.

With Rog in the bathroom, Master led me to the table and placed me under
it, on my knees, and in front of Joe's chair.  Joes stood up, pushed down
his pants to just below his knees (like he'd done earlier) and returned to
his seat.

  "Come on boy, suck the cock.  SUCK the cock."

Joe's cock was really hard now.  It was long, veinier that before, and it
even appeared to be kind of slick with sweat.  It actually looked kind of
tasty.  I slipped it into my mouth and gently sucked his pole as the game
continued.

I sucked on Joe's long black cock until another hand was won.  Joe didn't
cum, but he did slip another load of beer piss into me, which I savored as
I quietly swallowed it.  Our little secret, I thought.

Rev won the next hand.

"So what'll it be Rev?"  At this point everyone knew what that question
meant.

"Actually, I'd like to take a belt to his ass and really see how he handles
it.  That okay with you?"

"Damn straight.  Whatever you want, Rev.  We get to watch though," Master
laughed a little wickedly as he said this.

Rev pushed back his chair and reached under the table, grabbing me by my
armpit, and pulled me over to him.  He lifted me up to my feet and pushed
my head into the table with my face looking directly at Master.  He simply
stared into my eyes as if to remind me of his earlier threats.  I closed my
eyes and braced myself.

Rev selected a belt from the wall and walked back to the table.  I never
saw the belt, but I soon felt it.

"You can take 5 passes at him.  That seems fair," stated Master.

Rev rubbed the center of my ass with his palm and then stepped back before
landing his first "pass" against me flesh.  "WHAACK!"

"Good One!" yelled Master.

"WHAACK!  WHAACK! WHAACK! WHAACK!"  And then he was done.

Joe clapped his hands slowly, almost as much for me as for Rev.

"Nice," said Rev as he returned the belt to the wall.

"You know Rev, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd done that
before.  A lot."  Master was curious.

"I got a boy of my own back home."

"REEAALLLY?  Since when did you get a boy?" inquired Rog, now suddenly
inserting himself into the scene.

"Had him for years.  Black sissy, about 25, I guess.  Lives down the street
with his granny.  A couple times a week he comes down to the house and
let's me whip him for as long as I want to.  He likes it.  Likes it a lot,
actually.  So do I.  Then we fuck like rabbits, and he goes home.  That's
about it.  Not much to tell really.  He ain't no slave though.  I mean, he
don't drink piss.  I wish he did, but he ain't into that.  He wears panties
though.  He likes to wear ladies panties when I whip him.  He takes 'em off
when I fuck his ass.  It's kinda nice."

"D.A.M.N." was all I heard after that little confession.  It was Rog again.
I was still bent over the table at this point, watching Master hold back a
smile.

"Well I don't have a boy," said Joe, "but apparently I need to get me one.
It seems to be all the rage around here."

Everyone laughed at this one, except me.

"Deal," said Rev as he pulled me off the table and pushed me over to wall
near the belts.

Joe won the next three hands.  Basically, Joe and I got to be very close
for the next half hour or so.

After the first of his three consecutive wins, Joe decided just to shuck
all of his clothes for the night, except for his white tank top and
jewelry.  He wanted a rim job, so he bent over and grabbed his ankles (he
was very limber) in front of me as I sat against the wall under the
belts. He had me lick his ass clean of all of his sweat and grime.  For
good measure, I slipped a little tongue up his black chute just to show him
what I could do.  He really liked it and pushed his asshole further back
onto my face for more of the same.  I gave him all I had in that
department: A full-on tongue fuck.  He loved it.

After the next win, Joe came back for another tongue fuck, only this time
he had me stretch out on the floor.  He squatted on my extended tongue and
really forced me to go deep this time.  I cleaned it good for him, which
gave him a full hard on.  He rubbed it across my forehead and let the
precum drip into my hair.  They were all pretty drunk now, so the cheers of
encouragement I heard from the table had become louder.

His third win gave me a chance to swallow my first big load of something
other than piss.  Joe shoved his long hard dick into my mouth and held
tightly onto the back of my head as he fucked my face as hard and as fast
as he could.  It was brutal and actually made me dizzy.  But Joe really
wanted to blow one, so he didn't let up until he had coated the back of my
throat with jizz.  A lot of jizz.  Damn, he tasted good.  At this point I
really wanted to be fucked and fucked good by Joe's beautiful old cock.  Of
course, I'd have settled for ANY of the 4 old cocks at that table, and I
wasn't even drunk.

The night wore on, and it soon became apparent that Master and Rog weren't
very good at playing cards.  Neither won a single hand.  I also came to
understand just what kind of men Rev and Joe really were.  Rev, as it
turned out, was the true sadist.  Darker even than Master I think.  Perhaps
he's just got a lot of stored up anger.  I don't know.  Anyway, he won the
next two hands, which meant I got to receive two more sets of whippings.  I
knew that Master was secretly pulling for Rev.  I could see it in his eyes.
He really liked watching Rev beat me.  It really turned him on.

Every time Rev whipped me (in the end, seven separate sessions, but who's
counting at this point), he would choose a different instrument and a
different locale.  He seemed to treat the whole room as his own personal
torture chamber, and he made full use of everything it offered.  He bent me
over the bureau and beat my cheeks with a large square wooden paddle.  He
bent me over the bed and whipped my lower thighs with two leather belts
that he folded together.  He stretched me over his lap and really let me
have it with his open palm.  Then, just for kicks, he took me outside and
leaned me over the hood of a small car while he ripped into me with a
particularly thick piece of studded leather as while under a streetlight.
By the time he'd finished with me, I had lost track of the various details.
I'd also lost all feeling in the lower half of my body.  I was ready for it
all to end.

Fortunately, Joe would win another hand or two as well, which gave me a
periodic break from Rev's growing brutality.  Joe never varied either.  He
just loved to have his cock sucked.  Eventually, he blew another load,
which I thoroughly enjoyed eating for him.

The only other distractions were the toilet breaks.  Their toilet breaks.
They were really drunk now, and all four of them (even Rog) used me
throughout the night as their personal urinal.  They were drunk on beer and
power, and I was sick from drinking piss.  It was quite a sight I guess.

Finally, Master threw a wrench into things and declared the poker game
over.  Rev and Joe still had chips, so Master pulled the key to room 12 out
of his pocket and tossed it onto the table.

"One cut of the cards.  The winner gets the boy 'til midnight.  That's
almost two hours worth of private SIN.  He's all yours."

Please God, let it be Joe.  I really wanted that man's cock up my ass.  I
really needed him to fuck me.  I was desperate.  He'd probably let me cum
too.  He'd probably even play with my cock.  PLEASE GOD LET JOE WIN!

Joe drew a 10.  Good for Joe!  Rev drew a Queen.  I was doomed.

Rev sat quietly at the table, fingering the key and savoring his good
fortune.  Joe, oblivious to my lust for his cock, seemed perfectly happy as
he dressed and swigged a fresh beer between drags on his ever-present
cigarette.

"Say Paulus, how about we three wander down the sidewalk and hook-up with
some of your whores.  I'd like a nice tight piece of pussy right about now.
And I KNOW ol' Rog here could use a piece.  Whatcha say?  How 'bout it?"

"Sounds good.  I'll meet you outside."

Joe and Rog exited the room, each with a beer in his hand, and started
calling out into the night for "fresh fish."  Master walked over to where I
was kneeling, stepped in behind me, and dropped to his knees.  He inserted
his dry index finger deep into my cunt and whispered into my ear.

"I'll be back at one minute past midnight to clean up the mess Rev is sure
to make.  I'd better get a good review.  If I don't, you're a dead man.
You got that?  A dead man."  He ripped his finger out of me and walked
toward the door where Rev was still seated at the table.

"He's all yours.  Enjoy."

"Any rules I need to know about.  I mean, any limits you gonna place on
me?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, there are a few things you oughta know.  He's
not allowed to cum, so don't let him.  I've trained him not to show wood,
so if he does, beat it out of him, but I wanna KNOW about it if it happens.
NO WOOD.  PERIOD.  That's pretty much it.  I trust ya, so make it count.
See ya at midnight."

For the first time since Ben, I wanted to run and hide.  I really wanted to
run.  But I was cuffed and naked, trapped in a whore house with a sadistic
black man known to me only as Rev.  I wasn't going anywhere.  I just knew
that if I tried to fight it, I'd end up a missing person, which wasn't
really a legitimate option for me.

After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation at the card table, Rev
stood up and came for me.  Master had also left him the key to my cuffs, so
the first thing he did was to unlock them and have me stretch out onto the
carpet on my back.  He removed his white t-shirt and stood naked over me.
He laughed at the sight of what he saw, but said nothing.  He relaxed and
let a stream of fresh piss fly from his cock and onto my face.
Instinctively I opened my mouth and let it pour down my throat.  He seemed
to appreciate my effort.

"Get up," he mumbled.

I sat up and stood on my knees in front of him.  He gripped the back of my
neck and forced me to walk on my knees to the card table.  From behind, he
lifted me up and pushed me forward onto the table the same was he had done
the first time he whipped me.  He took the cuffs and attached one half of
them to my left wrist and then stretched it out over the side of the table
and attached the other half of the cuffs to the leg of the table.  Now
secured, he took a few minutes to rub my ass again.  He didn't spank me, he
just taunted me with what we both knew would come soon enough.

He had familiarized himself with Master's collection earlier in the
evening, so it didn't take him long to locate another set of cuffs and some
rope.  Rev cuffed my right arm on the other leg of the table, and then tied
each of my ankles to the remaining back legs.  I was now completely secured
onto the top of the card table.  My body had actually taken the form of it.
I was his prisoner... 'til midnight.

Rev dumped the contents of the ice bucket onto the sidewalk, then closed
and dead-bolted the door.  Clearly, we were not to be disturbed.  He then
crawled under the table and grabbed my soft dangling cock with his fist.
He rubbed the tip of it with his thumb, gently blowing on it as he did so.
He was trying to make me hard.  He WANTED me to get hard.  Asshole!  I
refused to let this happen.  I zoned out, thought about work, meetings,
computers, meetings, paperwork, meetings.  It seemed to work.  I showed him
no wood.

Rev laughed at his failure.  "You need to piss don't you?  Go ahead, take a
piss into the bucket."

I let my bladder relax and slowly the piss began to flow into the ice
bucket.  It felt really good.  I needed that, and I was grateful.

He crawled out from underneath me and placed the bucket next to me head.
Rev then dropped his white t-shirt into the piss-filled bucket and let it
soak up my urine.  He removed it and then shoved it into my mouth.

"Bite down on it.  You'll thank me later."  I did as he instructed.

While my own hot piss dripped down my throat, Rev retrieved a riding crop
from the wall.  I had seen the crop before, but Master had never actually
used it on me.  I had no idea how it might feel against my flesh.  I would
learn momentarily.

Rev came up behind me and placed his thumb against my shaved cunt.  He
rubbed it as if it were the clit on a whore.  My cheeks had been spread
wide because of how he had tied me down, so my cunt was very exposed.
Eventually, he pushed his thumb into me and rotated it.  It hurt, but I was
not in a position to squirm.

He stepped back and slapped the crop slam against my skin.  Ohmygod.  It
was like a razorblade cutting into my flesh.  I winced and tightened my
entire body.  This was going to be brutal, and I had done nothing to
deserve it.

He paused for a moment and used a finger to trace the red streak that I
knew had suddenly appeared on my cheek.  He was admiring it.  He then
delivered 3 more quick blows with the crop.  "SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!"
OHMYGOD, it was almost unbearable.

Again, he stopped and used his finger to trace the lines on my flesh.  He
was like an artist admiring his work.  It was kind of sick.

"SCHLAP!SCHLAP!"

"SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!"

"SCHLAP!"  With this last one he paused long enough to admire his work
again.  His fingertip found its way into my cunt momentarily.  He twisted
it like a corkscrew.

The lashing crop made its way to my thighs: first the upper area, then the
lower part, just above the back of my knees.  I lost count, but I think he
delivered at least ten lashes to each area.  "SCHLAPSCHLAPSCHLAPSCHLAP...!"
The strokes just kept coming and coming and coming.

When a really well-trained slave is being used in such a way, when he's
under so much stress and feeling this much pain, he knows how to "leave
himself."  I did that.  I did that while strapped, spread-eagle, across the
card table as Rev tore into my flesh again and again with that crop.  I
left myself.  I had never fully done that before.

How do I describe it for you?  Well, I didn't pass out... I zoned out.  I
was very much awake and aware of what Rev was doing to my butt and thighs.
I felt it: "SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!"  I heard it: "SCHLAP! SCHLAP! SCHLAP!"
But somehow, I had found a way to kill the pain sensors in my brain.  I was
able to relax my body slightly because I no longer felt the burn.  I closed
my eyes and relaxed.  I fucking relaxed!

And then it stopped.  Rev stopped whipping me.  How many lashes had he
delivered?  30?  50?  Yes, at least 50.  I was sure that it was at least 50
lashes with my Master's crop, maybe more.  I didn't know what my flesh
looked like at that point, but I sensed from the way he was rubbing me that
I had developed a number of red lines... so to speak.  I was surprised that
I wasn't crying.  In fact, my lack of tears was probably the biggest
surprise so far.

Rev sat on the bed and smoked a cigarette.  I could hear him breathing.  It
was heavy, like he had just run a marathon.  Suddenly I could feel the heat
in the room on my flesh.  My face was sweating too.  My armpits were soaked
and smelled sour.  The sensations that had left my backside temporarily
were coming back as well.  Gradually, I felt the stinging and the burning
and, of course, the swelling.  Now, finally, I was starting to cry.

At some point after that, Rev stood up and returned to the table.  He
placed the fat pink head of his cock on the lips of my cunt and pushed it
in.  Shit.  He was fucking me.  Dry.  He drove it in deep without pausing
or allowing me to adjust to it.  He was actually raping my ass.  He didn't
care that it hurt.

I felt his hands when they locked onto each of my hips.  I felt the thick
bush of pubic hair as it grazed against the top of my crack.  Rev, unlike
Master, seemed to prefer a slow, deep, fuck.  He pulled his cock out of me,
completely, before slowly pushing it back in, driving it as deeply as he
could each time.  His pace continued in a slow and methodical way.  The
fucking that he was giving me was almost surgical.  In. Out.  In.  Out.
In.  Out.  Again and again and again and again.

After a while, his bubbling precum had provided enough lube to the walls of
my cunt to help make the assault more bearable.  It didn't, however, cause
him to speed up the rape.  The slow fucking continued.  I could feel the
beads of sweat dripping from his chin onto my ass as he entered me, over
and over.  I kept waiting for him to speed up, but he never did.  At some
point I shifted slightly and then found myself starting to enjoy it.

A bit of truth: I love to be fucked.  I love to have another man use my
cunt for his own pleasure.  Now, with the shock of the beatings behind me,
I was enjoying myself.  In my ass was a large black cock fucking me, and I
loved it.

"Please don't stop," I thought.  "Please don't cum yet."  This is why I am
a slave.  This is why I am a good slave.  This is why I will always be a
slave to someone.  This stranger, a man I would never have noticed on the
street, had somehow found a way to capture me, whip me, control me, and now
fuck me with his cock.  He didn't even know my name, and he didn't seem to
want to know it.  He just wanted to rape me and own me.  I was his.  My ass
was his.

"132."  That was how many cock-strokes he took to fuck me: 132.  Rev put
his cock into my cunt 132 consecutive times.  Rev pulled his cock out of my
cunt 132 consecutive times.  I know because I counted every stroke.  I
loved him for it.  I loved Rev because he pushed and pulled his fat black
cock into and out of my nasty cunt 132 times.  What more could a slave hope
for?  I don't honesty know.

After the last stroke he paused, leaned forward and deposited all of his
jizz into my cunt.  Aside from the heavy breathing, he didn't say anything
at all.  I'd hoped he would yell out as he came.  I wanted to know that my
cunt had satisfied him.  But he was dead quiet when he climaxed.

"Here, suck me clean."  Rev was in front of me.  His dripping cock was
hanging in front of my mouth.  He removed the piss-stained t-shirt and
replaced it with his cum-stained cock.  The taste of his cum, mixed with
the sweat from my cunt, made its way past the piss on my tongue.  He cum
was sweet and sugary.  I liked it.  I sucked hard on his black pole because
I wanted it to be hard again.  I wanted to be fucked again.

"Slow down, boy.  I said clean it, not swallow it."  He rubbed the back of
my head as I worked on him.  He seemed satisfied.

"That's enough."  He walked away.

For the next few minutes Rev searched through the drawers in the room until
he found Master's stash of "toys".  The next thing I felt was the sensation
of a large plug entering my cunt.  Master has several plugs that he uses on
me, and I know each one of them really well.  This was the large black one.
It's long, somewhat thick, and made of rubber.  He shoved it into me
without any lube to help.  I heard a grunt come from my mouth, but he
ignored it.  My cunt was still craving cock.  This was the next best thing,
and I was grateful.

Rev then returned to the wall.  I watched his naked body and he stood there
examining the various belts and whips and straps.  He seemed envious.  He
seemed jealous.  Rev finally selected a black belt.  It was one of Master's
favorites.  This particular belt was about 3 inches wide and pierced with a
series of small decorative holes... rows and rows of tiny holes.  It was a
belt that Master used when he wanted to "teach me a lesson."  I had felt
this belt many times, and I wasn't a fan.

Rev wrapped his hand around the large buckle and let it hang freely onto
the carpet.  He didn't fold it in half like Master does.  Instead, he held
it like a man holding a bullwhip.  It scared me, and he knew it.

Rev came up behind me.  I could tell from his breathing that he was
standing back about 3 or 4 feet from the table.  He wants plenty of
swinging room, I thought.

Moments later I heard the belt whip through the stale air and then land on
my butt.  "CRRAACK!"  The crop had felt like a razorblade, but this belt
(wielded like a whip) felt more like a thick piece of moist wood... like a
freshly cut tree limb.

"CRRAACK!"

"CRRAACK!"

Rev's rhythm was steadier this time.  Each stroke perfectly paced on the
center of my ass, without pause.  I tried to focus on my cunt and the butt
plug that he's wedged into it.  I imagined that it was a large black
cock... Joe's cock!  It helped me to endure the pain of the whippings.

"CRRAACK!"

"CRRAACK!"

"CRRAACK!"

On and on he went, relentlessly.  What was he doing to my skin?  What did I
look like back there?  He didn't care.  I knew that he didn't care.  He
continued to whip me.  This was not punishment for me; it was pleasure for
him.  I couldn't see him, but I knew that his cock had grown hard again.  I
could feel it with every stroke of the belt.  He would fuck me again soon.
He would have to.  "CRRAACK!"

And then it stopped.  What was that, 20... 30?  I didn't know.  In my mind
I was still being fucked by a large black cock, Joe's cock, and it felt
wonderful.

Rev stood in front of me.  I was right.  He was hard, very hard.  I focused
on his cock's pink head and the slick bubble of nectar that sat there.  He
still had the belt in his hand.  He was covered in sweat.  He looked as if
he'd just stepped from a shower in search of a towel.  But his cock was
hard as a rock.  He was going to fuck me.  He was going to fuck me.

Finally he hung the belt back on the wall, but instead of walking away, he
chose another whip.  This one was braided.  It was an old brown leather
belt that was braided with several strands of jute... and it was thick.

Rev had used the black belt only on my ass.  The braided one was reserved
for my thighs.  This time he folded it and stood really close to me, just
to the left.  He placed his left hand on the small of my back and lifted
his right hand into the air and slammed the new whip against my thighs.
This time he didn't take his time.  These whippings were hurried and brisk,
like a machine.

"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."

Again and again he came at me, blistering my thighs like never before.  As
painful as the crop was, this was worse.  I tried to "zone out" but the
pain was too intense.  I felt every lash, which came so quickly, over and
over and over.

Finally I started to scream.  Master would have told me to "shut up," but
Rev ignored me.  He let me scream as loudly as I wanted to.  I think he
liked it.  I think he wanted me to scream out as if to say, "yes! it hurts
like hell, it hurts like hell!"

The more I screamed, the faster Rev whipped me.  I felt every stroke.  My
thighs were on fire, and the sweet sensation of the butt plug in my cunt
had disappeared.  "Joe" was gone, and I was alone with Rev.

"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."
"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."
"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"  AAAAAAHHHHH!  AAAAAHHHHH!"

"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."
"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."
"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK."

Finally, he stopped.  I've no words to describe the pain I felt at this
point.  I can only say that Rev had seemed completely unmoved by my
screams.  Why?  Was this what he did to his "black sissy boy" he had told
us about earlier, or was he just finally free to do to another person what
he'd always wanted to do?  These are questions that I can never answer
because I can never ask them.

He tossed the belt onto the floor and ripped the plug out of my cunt.  He
was ready to fuck me again.  And he did.

This time, he wasn't so methodical.  He shoved his cock in and breathed
deeply when it reached its final depth.  He paused and then started pumping
his hips against my ass.  He held onto my waist to steady himself, then
"turned it on."  This time he fucked me like Master fucks me: fast,
mercilessly.  BamBamBamBam went his cock over and over and over.

This was an anger-filled fucking.  It was pure rage that I felt as he
powered himself deeper and deeper into my gut.  He was trying to tear me
open, and he seemed desperate to cum again, as if his life depended on it.

At this point my darker side began to take over.  My singed flesh was no
longer a problem for me.  Now, I was being fucked and fucked hard, the way
I like to be fucked by my Master.  This man was using me, fucking my cunt,
and I desperately wanted it to continue.  As he fucked me I started to wish
that the others would soon return in search of more sex.  Where were they?
I wanted their cocks too.  I wanted to be gang raped by all of
them... fucked wildly and into a state of sexual unconsciousness!

"AAARRRRGGGHHH!"  Rev screamed out this time as he shot his load into my
gut.  He was done, and I was angry that it was over.  I wanted more, but
he'd already pulled out of me, and was slumped onto my back, soaking wet
and breathing heavily.

He stayed on top of me until our breathing leveled out and returned to
normal.  Finally he lifted himself up and stood behind me again.  Because
of how I was positioned, with my legs spread wide and tied to the table, I
was unable to keep my cunt lips closed.  Now, I could feel the warm spunk
from Rev's cock drip slowly out of my hole.  It didn't go unnoticed.  He
pushed two of his fingers into my cunt and coated them with his own jizz.
He then reached across the table and inserted them into my mouth so that I
could taste him again.  It was warm and fresh and sweet.  I could taste the
juices from my ass as well.  The combination made me high.

Rev then came around and placed his cock into my mouth and emptied his
bladder.  He had saved up a lot of piss for me again, and it filled me up
and tasted great, like a real man's piss ought to taste.  As he pissed into
me, I imagined that the two of us were in a really dirty bathroom somewhere
that stunk from stale piss and dried shit.  I wanted him to see me as
nothing more than a piece of trash, a foul stinking pile of worthless
flesh.  It turned me on to think that he might actually see me that way.  I
started to think that maybe Master would one want to "rent me out" to Rev,
who might keep me in the basement at his house.  Maybe he might invite
people to come over and they could take turns abusing me...

Rev pushed the plug back into my ass (I can't tell you how grateful I was
that he did this) and then sat down on the couch under the window.  He was
still naked and still glistening with a thick coat of sweat.  He lit a
cigarette and scooped up the last of the peanuts from a bowl on the side
table.  He was hunched over and he looked like an old man, a mean angry old
man who still had work to do.  He stared straight ahead and seemed
oblivious to his slave chained to the table nearby.  Was he done with me?
It wasn't yet midnight.  It was about 11:15.  What else did he have in
store for me?  I didn't know, but at this point I was anxious for more
abuse.  I wanted him to beat me again.  I've no idea why I felt this way,
but it's what I needed him to do.  I suddenly NEEDED him to whip me.  I
guess I knew what those whipping did to HIM.  They made his cock hard.
They made him want to fuck me.  And ultimately, that was what I wanted.  I
wanted him to fuck my cunt again.

The wait was agonizing.  Fifteen minutes passed before he finally stood up
and approached Master's wall.  He selected a paddle.  A long, narrow, thin
wooden paddle.  I had felt this one before, but only once.  The wood was
old and heavily grained.  I knew that it would leave a physical impression.
I wanted it to.  I wanted it badly.  Apparently, so did he.

He first hit me on my left thigh.  He knew that the thighs were the most
sensitive because they were the last part of my body that he had whipped.
The flesh there was still raw, and he took full advantage of it.  He
whacked me several times then shifted his attention to the other leg.
"WHACKWHACKWHACK!"  "WHACKWHACKWHACK!"

I screamed out because it hurt like hell.  But mostly I screamed out
because I knew he liked it that way.  I wanted to please him.  I wanted him
to know how badly he was hurting me.  More, more, more, I thought.  Rip
into me!  Wear me out!  He did.  He pummeled me over and over.  He whacked
my thighs and my calves and my butt cheeks.  I could not get enough of this
abuse.  I wanted his cock to get hard.  I wanted to know that his cock was
fully engorged and dripping with precum.  "WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK!"

He was breathing heavily again, and it made my heart skip with sick pride.
I knew that my flesh had turned a bright red and that I would be bruised
and swollen tomorrow, but I didn't care.  I wanted him to bruise me.  I
wanted him to give me everything he had.  "WHACKWHACKWHACK!!!"

He tossed the paddle onto the floor and ran quickly to the wall.  He ripped
the crop down and rushed back to my ass.  YES!  The crop!  I wanted the
crop!  He swung his arm in the air and crashed it down hard against my
butt.  The shock of it shook the table as he hit me with it again and
again.  Between the lashes I could feel my cunt tighten around the plug.
My whole body sensed it.  The pain and the pleasure had blended into one
singular feeling of total ecstasy.  The tears flowed down my face as Rev
increased the pace and the strength of his attack.  I didn't know where the
crop would land next, and I didn't care.  He was scattering the tip on it
all over me.  My ass, my thighs, my calves were all on fire as he unloaded
with all of his strength.  This was his climax.  I could feel him reaching
his full potential, and I knew that his cock was raging with blood.

He returned to the paddle again and came in close so that he could deliver
a series of short and quick whacks to my ass.  I felt the blood flowing
through me and into my cock.  I was getting hard.  NO!  I could not show
wood.  It was no use.  My cock was huge and suddenly desperate for orgasm.
It bounced to the rhythm of Rev's paddle.  The head was pressed against the
underside of the table.  I was going to cum and cum hard.  I had lost
control.  Focus, I thought.  Focus.  I zoned out.  I don't know where I
went, but I was gone.  I could still hear and feel Rev's whippings, which
had slowed down and were now being methodically delivered to my thighs.
But I was off somewhere else and my cock was finally starting to soften.
Suddenly, I felt it drop and go limp.  I was saved.  Rev didn't even seem
to notice.  He was too busy beating me.

Rev came at me one last time with the crop.  At some point he had switched
from the paddle, but I didn't know when that had happened.  All I knew was
that the heavy thud of the wooden paddle had morphed into the sharp cut of
the crop.  I loved the crop!  Rev was swinging his arm back and forth, left
to right, cutting into my flesh with nothing but pure unadulterated lust.
I needed this.  I needed that crop!

And then there was cock.  Rev's cock.  Rev had somehow managed to remove
the plug and replace it with his own hard cock.  Where had I been?  I
didn't know, and I didn't know what time it was either, but I did know one
thing: Rev had finally started fucking me again.  He was fucking my cunt.
Finally, Rev was fucking my cunt!

I felt Rev fall onto the table and place his hands onto my shoulders.  He
was pushing his cock into my cunt as far as it would go.  His crotch was
grinding around in a circular motion, stretching the walls of my rectum to
their limit.  Could he cum a third time?  From the way that he was fucking
me, I knew that he was going to try.  He wanted to.  He HAD to.

Slowly and passionately he fucked me.  For a moment it was as if we had
actually melted into one large sweaty mound of flesh.  I could feel his
cock, and it felt as if it had permanently fused with my cunt.  We were
peaking together.  We had finally reached the end of our sick journey to
hell.

And then it all stopped.  There were no sounds, no screams, no moans.  He
just came.  His cum poured out of his cock and into my gut one last time.
He had finally finished with me.  He was done.  So was I.  No, I didn't
cum, but my body had had enough.  The red welts were starting to form.  I
could feel the fresh bruises.  I could finally feel the pain.

When Master attempted to come back into the room, Rev was pulling on his
neon jock strap.  (Where, exactly, does a man BUY a neon green jock strap
anyway?)  Master knocked on the door and Rev walked over and let him in.
Rev returned to the bed and put on his jeans and tied his shoes, then
picked up his coat from the couch.  He was not wearing a shirt.  While he
dressed, Master simply stood by the table, where I was still spread out and
shackled, and stared at the damage that Rev had inflicted.  Neither of them
had spoken yet.

Rev moved to the door to leave.  Master followed.

"There was wood."

"Huh?"

"Wood.  There was wood.  For a few minutes, I saw a little piece of wood.
I did what you said to do.  I beat it out of him.  I just kept beating him
'til it want away.  It wasn't easy for me.  The whole thing kind of made me
sick, you know?  Seeing that faggot get all hard and shit from being
whipped like that.  He's a real freak.  He never came, though, but he
showed me some wood, so I beat him.  I thought you should know."

"Thanks Rev.  Sorry he messed it up for you.  I'll deal with it.  Thanks."

Well.  There you have it.  He had seen it.  Rev had seen the erection and
had told my Master about it. And not only did he tell Master, but he
twisted things up to make it seem like he was somehow offended.  Please.
That sick fuck just wanted to keep hurting me.  And now I had to deal with
the aftermath.  It wasn't pretty.

Master was drunk.  I knew he was drunk because I could smell the alcohol as
soon as he walked through the door.  I'd never really seen him this drunk,
and I wandered how it would affect my punishment.  Master didn't feel the
need to tell me about his disappointment.  He rarely does, anymore.  He
just "teaches me a lesson" and leaves it at that.

Master took off his shoes and his trousers.  Then he removed his jock and
finally his polo.  He was wearing a black tank top.  That was it.  He
walked up behind me and let a hot stream of piss splash against the lips of
my exposed cunt.  He did it to let me know how dirty he thought I was.  He
wasn't going to fuck me this time.  I didn't deserve a taste of cock.  I
deserved piss.  He doesn't piss often on my cunt.  He would never piss on
something that he was going to fuck.  So when he does, I know that it means
he's angry.  And he was VERY angry.  I am not a man.  I am his slave, and
the slave of Paulus is not allowed to show pleasure, not in the traditional
sense.  He thought that he had cured me of this behavior weeks ago.  I
thought he had to.  Rev had found something that Master had not yet killed
in me.  Rev had brought out a reaction of pure pleasure, if only for a
moment, and now I was going to suffer for it.

The lecture that I got came in the form of a belt, the thickest, widest
belt he could find.  He knew I would scream, so he picked the used butt
plug off of the floor and shoved it into my mouth.  Then he took Rev's
piss-stained shirt and draped it over my head.  He didn't want to hear me
OR see me.  He was that angry.

I've no idea how badly damaged my backside was, but I knew that I had a lot
of bright red spots scattered all over me.  Tender spots that had received
the most attention from Rev.  Master chose those spots for additional
attention.  When he whipped me, he made sure that the belt hit the sorest
parts.  This was not foreplay.  He would not get an erection this time.
This was discipline: a simple and extremely painful lesson in right
vs. wrong.  Apparently, I deserved it.

Again, I do not know how many time he struck me.  I can tell you that he
punished me over the course of several hours.  He would whip me for several
minutes, leave the room, maybe smoke a cigarette or have another beer, and
then he would return and whip me again.  A couple of times he was gone for
so long that I fell asleep only to have him wake me with more even
punishment from his belt.  It lasted for most of the night.

When I actually woke up it was daylight and the sun was shining brightly
through the window.  My hands were still shackled to the table, but my
ankles were untied.  Around my neck was my dog collar and the chain was
laying on my back.  I had no idea where Master was, but DAMN was I sore.  I
thought I needed a doctor.  I didn't, of course, but it sure did feel like
it.

Master came in a few minutes later with the largest dog cage I'd ever seen.
He spent an hour or so assembling it, and then he placed it in the corner
of the room.  On the floor of the cage he placed a sheet of plastic then
several layers of blankets for "padding."  Uh?

He uncuffed me (finally) and led me outside into the sun.  I was butt naked
and he was holding onto my chain.  He told me to "stretch" which I did.  He
asked me if I needed to piss and I nodded.  He took hold of my cock
(something he rarely does) and aimed it at the wall of the motel and then
ordered me to piss.  Coming up the sidewalk was an Asian whore, Tania.  I'd
seen her a few times in passing.  She giggled at me and walked to her car.
Master ignored her.

Just as the whore was about to pull away, Master waved her down and
approached the car.  He pulled me with him.

"Gimme your lipstick."

Tania handed Paulus a burgundy lipstick.  In the middle of the parking lot
he opened it and wrote the words "piss here" on my chest, just under the
nipples.  From there we walked to the back of the motel to room 20.  I
should probably tell you about room 20.

Room 20 is one of three rooms that Master has set aside for illegal Mexican
migrant workers.  Master has a soft spot for people trying to exist in the
underbelly of society.  Years ago he found a few of them living in the
woods behind a local grocery store, so he offered them shelter in the
motel.  I don't think he charges them very much.  Anyway, the rooms (all
three of them) each contain 2 king size mattresses on the floor and only
the most basic of appointments (sheets, a couple of blankets, and an old
dresser).  The men sleep 8 to 10 to a room when they are in the area.
Mostly middle-aged, underfed, and kind of smelly, Master sees them as an
endless stream of men whom he somehow needs to help out.  So he does.
Anyway, they do as they please when they are in town.  They buy fucks from
the whores, drink lots of cheap beer and rum, smoke pot, and mostly just
sit around soaking in the dark, alternative culture of Master's motel.

I had no idea what I was going to be doing in room 20.

When we walked in, the men were asleep, seven of them... three on one
mattress and four on the other.  Not a pretty one in the bunch.  Shit.  We
walked past the sleeping apple pickers and straight into their filthy
bathroom.  Master sat me on the broken, unflushed toilet (don't ask) and
shackled me to it by handcuffing me to the water pipe that went from the
back of the john and up the wall.  This toilet didn't have a traditional
tank.  The tank was overhead, near the ceiling.  It was probably one of the
last original toilets in the motel.  He was planning to replace it soon.
As I said, it was broken.  He pulled a rubber ball gag from his pocket and
secured it in my mouth.  Then he left.

From the bathroom, I could hear him speaking to the groggy, hung-over
Mexicans.  I didn't get the whole thing (I was still in shock), but I
picked up on the gist of what he had to say.  Basically, he told them not
to fuck me or abuse me in any physical way.  In other words, I was not
their "plaything."  I was just their new toilet seat.  That's all they
needed to know.  Or something like that.  Anyway, I was pretty freaked out
by the whole scene, as you can imagine.  He said something else about
bringing them a keg for later, and then he left.

Well.  What can I say?  How about I just not say anything specific about
the rest of my day?  That's probably the best thing I can do for you at
this point.  Just know that I got to know these seven "gentlemen" extremely
well over the course of the afternoon and evening, and we'll leave it
there.  I can also tell you that I never want to do anything that will land
me there again.  EVER.  If I have to die trying, Master will never see or
hear about any more wood from me.  Promise.

When Master showed up to collect me, he pissed on me too, just for the hell
of it.  He walked me past the maid's closet and refused to hose me down.
Instead he returned me to room 12 and had me sleep on the floor next to the
bed, still covered in dry piss and whatnot.  He slept with Tania I think.

I spent most of Sunday in the new cage.  Master fed me there and even made
me shit on myself instead of giving me access to my bucket.  The window was
open the whole time, and a number of people were able to witness this.  At
one point I looked up and saw Rev staring at me from the sidewalk.  Where'd
he come from?  Back for more?  Master was actually sitting on the toilet
(it being Sunday morning), and by then I had already soiled myself again.
Rev was grinning from ear to ear.  He liked seeing me trashed and locked in
a dog cage.  Hell, for all I knew, he gave Master the idea in the first
place.  He knew why I was in there, and he liked it.  Fucker probably had a
hard on just standing there.  After a few minutes he walked away as well.
After he left, I spent the rest of the day thinking about him.

I had last seen him on Friday night (midnight), yet on Sunday morning he
was still wandering around the motel.  What had he been doing all that
time?  I doubt he'd been fucking his way through the motel's collection of
pussy like Joe, Rog, and Master had done.  He was clearly an ass-man and
probably liked a fat cock in his mouth on occasion.  So what HAD he been
doing?  Oddly, it made me VERY jealous.

I'd met and had been used by a number of Master's "friends," but Rev was
the only one I actually thought about in any meaningful way.  As I sat
there in that cage staring at him in the window, I thought about how nice
it would be if he would come in and do something to me.  Anything.  Maybe
he needed to piss.  If so, I could be his toilet again.  I was too filthy
to fuck, but if he wanted to use the crop on me again, just for kicks, I'd
let him.  I know.  This whole line of thought is just too much, even for
me, but I'm just trying to be honest about it.  Basically, I just wanted to
cheat on my Master... I wanted to cheat on my Master with Rev.

Before the weekend ended, Master took me to the woods and threw several
(ok, several is a bit of an understatement) buckets of cool water on me
until I was basically clean enough to leave.  Then he walked me to my car,
gave me my keys and sent me on my way.  The weekend that had started out so
well had deteriorated badly.  I hated that it had to happen like that.  I
knew that all of it was my fault.  I called in sick on Monday and Tuesday
and stayed home to tend to my wounds.  I also had some serious thinking to
do.

CXG