Date: Sun, 27 Apr 2008 17:47:48 +0200
From: Batardsm <batardsm@orange.fr>
Subject: Skin fuck 3

Periodically his Master yanked on the chain making him lose his footing and
stumble along behind him. He was keeping him on edge all the time, showing
him that he was not in control, that if he wanted to, his Master could make
him fall on his face on the floor.

Whenever this would happen, the slave would pathetically try to pull out
his arms in front of him to stop any fall but he couldn't because they were
cuffed behind his back. This didn't stop the automatic reaction and his
wrists were starting to hurt where they pulled against the unwelding steel
of the cuffs.

But the aching in his wrists was nothing like the aching in his groin. His
dick was as hard as rock, pushing roughly against his combat trousers,
making his balls hurt by tightening the cock and ball torture device he had
been made to wear. He had completely forgotten about the plug in his
arse. When it went in without any lube he thought that his arse would split
it was so painful, but now it felt at home there. His arse was very full
but that was a good thing not bad. It was a part of his Master that was in
him, possessing him and that felt right. Natural. He didn't care that it
would be so painful as to bring tears to his eyes when he took a shit for
the next few days. Again that was the way of his life now. Pain a part of
his everyday existence.

Then came another yank and stumble. Cold steel thrust against aching
wrists. They were now getting closer and closer to the main road. He could
hear some voices in the distance and the noise of passing traffic. He
started to panic. The mud and vomit had now completely dried on his face,
making him look as if he had been dragged along the floor or worse. His
hands handcuffed behind his back and being led on a chain by a large
skinhead. Everybody would know, would know his position as this other man's
slave and fuck toy.

A part of him was very proud to be this horny and manly skin head's
property, to be shown to the world as belonging to his Master. A strong and
determined Master. But the bigger part of him was embarrassed. He started
pulling back on the chain around his neck. This has to stop. It had gone
too far now. He didn't want the world to know what he was. What he wanted
and needed. He wasn't really a worthless piece of shit. He was a man and he
should behave like one. He deserved respect.

All of a sudden he was flying through the air. His feet had gone, just been
taken from beneath him. His arms tried to flail around to help to him get
his balance but they were helpless. He had no choice but just to fall. His
Master had yanked the chain again but harder this time and had caught him
off guard.

Then he stopped falling. His Master had caught him before he hit the
floor. His face was now in his Master's Fred Perry. He could feel his
Master's strong arms under his armpits. The hard stomach muscles under the
Perry. The smell of fresh sweat filled his nostrils. The horny smell of a
real man. No deodorant. Just masculinity.

"You try and defy me again cunt and next time the only thing stopping your
fall will be your face!" He was breathing heavily but had the good sense to
say "thank you Sir." "Think you need to learn some humility boy." His
Master pushed him upright dismissively, like he was wiping some bird shirt
off his t-shirt. He wobbled a bit but managed to keep upright. Next thing
his Master is playing with the fly to his slave's combats. And then with
his own.

For the first time the slave saw his Master's dick. It was about 7 inches
even when flaccid. It was uncut and heavy, the veins bulging down its shaft
and its large head hidden in the folds of its foreskin. He wanted. He
really wanted his Master's cock now. Really badly. A need just welled up
inside him. The need to touch his Master's cock. To touch the centre of his
Master's manhood. To have it fill his mouth. To stretch and fill his
arse. He was entranced. But it wasn't to be.

His Master shoved his cock through the fly of his slave's combats. He could
just feel his Master's cock brush against his. He shuddered like he had
been touched by some electricity. His own cock fought against its bindings
even harder. Swelling further. Then he felt the hot stream over his own
dick. Running down the inside of his left leg. A river of his Master's piss
drenched his cock and legs. He bowed his head. He felt so humiliated. The
more the piss flowed the more the will to fight this man was washed
away. The more he wanted to be owned by him. To be stripped down to the
bare bones. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

His Master took away his own cock and closed his own fly. He whispered,
without raising his head or opening his eyes the words "Sir, thank you so
much Sir."

He could then feel the piss turning cold and clammy, sticking the combats
to his legs. He knew without looking that his combats now had large piss
stains down their front. Everybody would know that they were still wet piss
stains, would probably think that he had pissed himself. Some might even
guess that they were the piss of another man. That he was so lowly that he
had allowed another man to piss on him. His Master had not closed his
slave's fly and now he found out why, as his Master reached in and roughly
grasped his dick and balls and pulled them through the fly. His hard cock
wedged itself inside the combats but it was no match for his Master and was
yanked into the outside world.

He winced. He could now feel the cold breeze on his balls and cock. His
balls tried to escape into his body but were trapped by the leather cock
and ball device. He thought his cock would burst because it was so full,
betraying to the outside world how much of a pervert its owner really was.

The humiliation was now complete. He face was covered in mud and vomit.
Collared, chained and handcuffed. And now wet with another man's piss, with
his cock and balls being shown to anybody who passed.

He had tried to defy, to struggle against his Master's will and this was
the result. He was now in a worse position than before. He had to learn.
And the lessons were coming thick and fast. A tug on the chain told him to
follow his Master. He opened his eyes but kept his head bowed.

They walked for about ten minutes. He didn't look up. He just looked at his
own feet and the ground.

He then became aware that the sound of voices was a lot louder and
definitely nearer. He could hear laughing and the sound of motorbike
engines being revved up. They had reached the lay-by at the junction with
the 24 hour tea hut on it. He hadn't realised that they had come so far. He
knew from being with previous Masters who were bikers that this tea hut up
on the heath was a well known meeting point for bikers from all over London
and South East England. There were some gay bikers but they were mainly
straight, with girlfriends riding pillion or just out on their own meeting
up with mates.

The noise stopped. No more talking. Even the engines weren't being revved
anymore, just idling. He did not dare look up. He knew what was happening.
Some of the bikers, in their skin tight leather outfits had spotted the
spectacle of the tall skinhead with his slave on a collar and chain. They
were now pointing him out to their friends. Pointing out the mud and vomit
on his face, the handcuffs and the collar and chain. They were whispering
about the huge enslaved boner sticking out of his piss stained combats.
They would know what he was and that he enjoyed it.

He heard some wolf whistling. Again he didn't look up. Although a part of
him wanted to run away, this was now being overshadowed by the part of him
that needed this humiliation. But he did not know then that his humiliation
was not yet complete.