Date: Tue, 12 Dec 2006 17:39:36 -0800
From: bamaboi2serve@charter.net
Subject: Bitch-brian, Part EIGHT

Bitch-brian, Part EIGHT

Bamaboi2serve@charter.net

     I got the bois over to the shower area and had them wash up from their
initial action. Brian helped wash bobby, and then they switched
places. These were open showers at one end of the barn, and a few guests
came over to watch. I figured the least I could do is give them a little
show.
   "Hey bitch!" I called brian as they dried off, "what do you call that
thing between your legs?"
    The bitch blushed bright red and mumbled a reply.
   "Can't hear you bitch...what is it called?"
   "My pee-pee," he said loud enough for those nearby to hear.
   "That's right, bitch, your pee-pee. And not much of one is it?"
   "No Sir."
   "Is it hard now?"
   The bitch blushed even more. His cock wasn't huge, but it wasn't tiny
either, and it was clearly about as hard as it could get, sticking up
toward his head at a sharp angle thanks to lots of things, including the
viagra and the stimulation of bobby washing him and the crowd.
    "Yes, Sir, its hard Sir," bobby replied.
    "Here, put this in," I said as I handed him an eight inch long butt
plug from my travel bag.
    During all of this, bobby was just standing there watching, equally
hard for the same reasons.
    "Bobby, give your sissy sister a hand...get that thing in him."
    Bobby didn't pause a second, probably glad it was brian and not him
being impaled by the toy, which was almost five inches thick at its widest
point. He used lube I provided to grease up the thick pole and start it
down its path to the bitch's prostate.
   Brian was bent over, reaching behind himself to spread his cheeks and
open his boi-pussy wide. I was feeling a little sorry for him, so I reached
over and held out a bottle of poppers. He inhaled deeply, stopping only
when I moved the bottle away.
    At first, it seemed even all of that help wasn't going to be
enough. The big black plug had gone in a few inches, but seemed stuck in
mid-plunge, unable to get past brian's sphincter ring. I knew better. I
reached over to the hand bobby was using to insert the plug and gave it a
strong push. Pop! In it went, with a great sucking sound...brian gasped and
groaned and the small crowd watching applauded.
   Bobby started applauding too, but stopped immediately when he saw me
looking at him. From my bag of tricks I pulled out an even bigger plug and
handed it to the bitch...
   "Now it's bobby's turn...bitch, do the honors!
    Brian took the toy with some delight and lubed it up, sticking a few
fingers into bobby's ass to loosen him up a bit. Then he started with the
plug, which made only very slow progress into little bobby's hole. He was
holding his hands out against the barn wall and was bent over. He kept
glancing over at me, knowing better than to ask but hoping his eyes would
say "Poppers please!"
   I took my time, watching him in agony.
   The spectators were urging brian on, telling him to push harder. bobby
was sweating and groaning and moaning...When I finally held out my hand,
offering him a hit of poppers, I thought he would suck the bottle out of my
hand and into his nose. They did the trick, though, relaxing him and his
muscles the tiny bit more needed for the missile to enter bobby's hole. You
could hear his groan of relief and pleasure on the other side of the barn.
    I decided to slow the boy's roll a bit, walking them by their leashes
over to a relatively quiet corner of the barn, where there was a hose and a
table with soft drinks. Both bois were walking with some difficulty because
of the big plugs, but they were also hugely hard, their pricks pointing the
way in front of them. I used the hose on them both, rinsing off the
accumulated sweat and cum and piss. Both of them held their hands up like
little ballerina girls, and I told them that's exactly what they looked
like! I turned off the hose, grabbed some ropes hanging down from the
rafters, and tethered them in place for a while, facing them toward the
corner and away from the crowd and each other.
     "Your bois are very entertaining!"  The voice came from a couple of
yards away, a big guy, six foot or more, about 200 pounds. He wore
skintight leather pants and a torn denim vest. "I'm Master Allen", he
introduced himself, holding out a hand to shake.
     He told me his own boi was out of town, and so he had come to party
alone...except for a rather large toy he used a trailer to carry
around. "Trailer?" I asked.
     "Come with me for a moment and I'll show you," he urged.
    The bois seemed fine, off in their own ecstasy world for the moment, so
I went with him to another corner of the barn.
    I could see right away why Master Allen needed a trailer to cart his
"toy" around! Remember those mechanical bulls that were all the rage in
Country-Western bars a few years back? Well, when the fad faded, he had
bought one cheap and customized it for his own kinky purposes. He managed
to get invited to the best parties in the country by offering to bring the
thing in and let Master use it.
   Master Allen had created a very erotic bull!. Built into the seat was a
nice trailer-hitch sized butt plug...on either side and at the back were a
series of eyebolts to which leather strings were attached. Tit and other
kinds of clamps were attached to the other ends of those strings. There was
a wide leather harness near the plug. I was anxious to see the bull in
operation, and asked Master Allen for a demonstration. A nearby slave was
appropriated for that purpose, with his Master's approval, of course, and
the skinny tattooed sk8ter slave boi was greased up and situated above the
plug, his feet in the stirrups. He had the word "bitch" in ink across his
chest. A huge heavy PA decorated his soft cock.
    "OK Boy, make me proud," urged his owner, "you've taken a lot more than
that up your boicunt...take it in now!"
    The boi grimaced, and finally settled down onto the rubber-encased
plug.
     Master Allen wrapped the boy's cock and balls tightly using a long
rawhide string. The process stretched the slave's balls out away from his
body, causing them lay flat on the bull's hard leather saddle. Then tit
clamps were attached to some of the leather strings attached to the
bull. On the boi's right hand, he stretched on a leather glove that had a
series of wires coming from it and running underneath the machine.
    Allen walked to the wall, plugged the device in, and walked over close
to the boi, whispering in his ear so low that I could only barely hear the
words: "OK slut, your Master is giving you the privilege of being my model,
so do right or I'll make you wish you had! You are to keep your right hand
up in the air at all times, you can use your left hand to hold onto the
pommel...that's this part here bitch." He was indicating the highest part
of the leather saddle, right in front of the boi. His bound cock and balls
pointed right at it. "If your right hand touches any part of the saddle,
this little devise", he held up a metal box that attached to the side of
the bull, "is going to activate. It sends a nice healthy shock through the
saddle, and, by the way, through your balls. Keep that hand up! And enjoy
the ride!"
     The boi looked scarred to death.
     Allen reached into his pocket and pulled out some quarters, inserting
them into the ride and walking back to join me as the ride started.
     At first it looked kind of silly. The boy sitting on the bull holding
one hand up in the air, his shaved pit exposed, his cock flopping around a
bit. The machine began slowly rocking front and back, and the boi's long
black hair swayed with the motion. He was a little drunk, and he smiled
stupidly at the men who had surrounded the bull to watch.
   Then the speed started increasing, and with each movement, the pressure
on the boy's balls increased, as did the pulling motion on his tit
clamps. It was also becoming more difficult for him to stay seated. That
caused him to lift up off the machine, and each time he slammed back down
onto the saddle his balls took the brunt of the action.
    He started reaching down to hold on with his right hand, but remembered
the glove and the warning.
    Now the beast was really moving back and forth, pushing the lightweight
slave-boi up in the air and down...some sideways motion complicated his
little unwilling dance as he was thrown around to the delight of the
crowd. The en were cheering and shouting, telling their slaves they would
be next.
    As the speed increased, desperate for some stability, the boi ignored
the glove and wires and reached down with his right hand, holding onto the
saddle just long enough for the electronic box to send a shock to the
entire saddle...the hand jolted back into the air immediately, but not
before his cock and balls felt the jolt, heightened by the sweat coating
the saddle under him. For the rest of the ride he made all kinds of motions
with his body, but that right hand stayed up where it belonged. The boi had
learned that lesson fast!
    When the boi was removed from the bull, his Master had to almost carry
him to the side of the barn for some recovery time. With Master Allen's
permission, I brought brian and bobby over to the bull and told them it was
rodeo time. Whichever boi could stay the longest on the bull without
reaching down with his right hand would win. The loser would not only get a
shock, but would also have to spend the rest of the night on all fours like
a real bitch.
   The contest was great fun, with lots of spectators making bets on which
slut-slave of mine would win.
    Bobby went first, and made the same mistake as the boi before him,
reaching down and touching the slick with sweat saddle, getting a nice jolt
in response and then having his tits and balls pulled on when he jumped
from the shock! But bobby was also very turned on, his cock ramrod straight
into the air, his bound-up balls below, getting a banging with every bounce
of the machine. Bobby lasted through the entire ride with just one saddle
touch, pretty good, I thought, for a slave-boi. Next up was bitch-brian,
who I had kept out of sight. I didn't want him to get any pointers in
advance.
     As I tied up his cock and balls, I made him tell the spectators
(again) what he called his cock. "My pee-pee," he told them, blushing
furiously and yet also hard.
    "And what do you call these?" I asked, holding up his boy balls as I
wrapped them in the rawhide strips. He didn't answer, unsure what I wanted
to hear.
     "These are my little boi marbles...that's the correct answer," I told
him. He immediately repeated the answer, even more embarrassed. I went to
the coin insert and started the machine up after telling him the rules and
warning him about the shock therapy.
     Brian didn't stand a chance. His hand was down on the saddle even
before the rough part of the ride started, sending the shock though his
"marbles", which caused him to leap upward which pulled on his tits and
marbles too, which caused him to put his hand down which...it would have
been funny if it weren't so sad. Just thirty seconds into the ride and the
bitch was a loser again.
   I took him off the machine and even without being told, he got down on
all fours, letting me lead him around the barn like the little bitch he is.
   It was time to explore those big claw foot tubs...I hoped the bois were
thirsty!

--to be continued--

Thanks to those who've written with suggestions etc...I answer every
e-mail, and it is those e-mails that make this worthwhile, so please DO
send me your thoughts!

Bamaboi2serve@charter.net