Date: Wed, 12 Dec 2012 17:47:31 -0800 (PST)
From: Ghostwriter_XYZ <ghostwriter_xyz@yahoo.com>
Subject: Timmy & His Masters part 1A

Timmy and His Masters
Chapter 1A How It All Began
By Ghostwriter_XYZ
Ghostwriter_XYZ@yahoo.com

See full disclaimer Chapter 1... This story depicts intense acts of sex,
SM, and pain among males. As always, if you are underage or this offends
you, get thee gone already. This is FICTION. All people, places etc.,
herein including the town of Limerick NY, are a figment of my warped
imagination. And remember: DON'T TRY THESE THINGS AT HOME, kids. Someone
could end up critically injured or dead. If you don't know what you're
doing, DON'T! Nuff said...

There are a LOT of characters in this story, some of whom are just names or
"cameos." Some will be featured prominently in 1 chapter but not another or
"go on hiatus" for a few chapters and reappear, perhaps in another form. (I
have things sketched out for about 3 more chapters!) After this chapter, I
will append a Dramatis Personae to facilitate your understanding of who is
who, who isn't who, who is whose Master or slave, who is fucking whom, who
had better NOT be fucking whom...

Copyright 2012 Ghostwriter_XYZ. And now ON THE WITH SHOW!

Note I regret the delay in posting. I have found God WON'T put 48 hrs. in a
day! On top of everything else, I fractured 2 bones in my right hand! "Life
is what happens while you're busy making other plans!" The immortal Erma
Bombeck.

Recap of Chapter 1

Back to reality. Sigh... I wait for the water to get hot and realize I'm in
deep shit for cumming over Adam, Tuesday. Oh Adam, Adam, Adam!!! Adam
you're so hunky, Adam you're so handsome, so adorable, so SEXY!!!! Oh Adam,
ADAM, AAHHDDUUHHMM!!! Fuck--I just cummed gallons all over myself and the
floor. Brrrng... "Timmy, you just blew 10 minutes swooning and cumming over
Adam. Clean up your mess, get going, and get your ass over here. You have
an HOUR with Mr. Bullwhip. Don't make us come and get you!" Click. Shit. I
am fucked. I am so fucking fucked to hell. I'm already 2 hours late, got
carried away daydreamin about Adam and cummed all over. Fuck--I got a
gallon of cum all over my floor. I hope none splattered on my clothes. The
water for my enema is barely lukewarm. It must be HOT. Sigh... I'm so far
behind I'll never catch up. I am so dead. What am I gonna do? God, if you
are there, tell me, WHAT AM I GONNA DO???

Chapter 1A How It Began

I wait for water to get hot for my enemas. I lick my cum off the cold
concrete floor, make the floor clean, make the requisite entry in my
notebook. I wistfully survey my living space. It was my "mancave," my
refuge from Stepfather and the world. I had thick fluffy rugs, a TV,
computer, the 4-poster bed dad gave me, and 4 big space heaters to keep it
all cozy. The day after Billy and Sean waylaid me in The Clearing and
declared me their slave, they my Masters, Goons came and took
EVERYTHING. They impaled me on a dildo highchair without a drop of lube. I
musta shrieked loud enuf to be heard in Joisey! Nobody gave a shit. They
took my clothes, furniture and possessions even my 4-poster bed. Everything
I owned GONE-- hauled away by Goons in 6 hours, 3 trips by 3 U-Hauls to the
Levittown Thrift Store. They left me with NOTHING. My "mancave" is now bare
concrete floor. My "bed" is pieces of other beds with a mattress the
Levittown City Mission threw out because so many men had
peed/cummed/puked/God knows what on it! Bottom of fuckin barrel--mattress
too foul for BUMS to sleep on it. Only Erik's ministrations keep my bed
from falling apart. That would get me more punishment.

I have a battered alarm clock, footlocker of "toys," and of course, the
damned highchair. Lights are on 24/7 just like a prison cell. Might as well
be. I have no access to anything. My potty room door unlocks 6 & 6. I don't
even have a toilet but a fuckin POTTY CHAIR. A Duty slave comes once a day
empties it and someone determines if there's enuf piss and shit or if I
went to the bathroom elsewhere or skimped on my laxatives, suppositories
and enemas. If the report so indicates, I'm in deep shit, no pun intended!

My clothes are in a locked closet, behind a double-locked partition, in a
room secured by a triple- locked electrified door. I can't access the ROOM
where my clothes are kept, let alone closet or clothes themselves. Coach
Mark's "boys," Kevin and Luis along with Walter, Master Shane's
slave/foreman and Walter's crew created the partitions and dividers. Steven
Simeone, son/apprentice/slave to Master Wayne, our locksmith, created and
keyed all the locks. Houdini couldn't get through them! Thrift Store was
thrilled to get such nice things! Where stuff came from, Thrift Store staff
don't ask, no one tells!

Slaves get NO "luxuries" like rugs, towels, beds... Slaves "towels" are
rags. Most slaves are kept naked, impaled on a dildo, in the slave
position, chained so he can neither sit upright or lay flat, legs splayed
so all can see the emptiness of his groin. Slaves get "fed" overnight: a
liter of formula followed by a liter of icy water via tube down his nose
into their stomachs, dripping all night. every morning Slaves get icy
saline delivered through catheter in their dicks. A slave learns to focus
through his pain including carrying 3 or more days of fluids in his bladder
exacerbated by twice daily administration of diuretics both orally and
IM-intramuscular—in his ass, i.e. If the Master or a brother slave
wishes to add some fluids, so much the better. SLAVES SUFFER--and The
Masters Council has decreed the more suffering, humiliation, pain, shame,
the better. A senior slave gets a bare cell, his "private room," bare
concrete floor--no bed, no nuthin. He's not impaled & locked in place like
other slaves, as he's responsible for the other slaves. He is fixed, kept
naked and fed formula via tube like all other slaves and could no more
escape than they.

Back to reality... Damned water is still barely lukewarm. I've blown a
goddam HOUR. I look at myself in a full length mirror. What looks back
looks so strange. I look like a 12 year old. I'm hairless from cheeks to
toes. I shave my body daily. My hair is a buzz cut--barely stubble. My body
bears the marks of 3˝+ years of slavery. I have a deep welt across my
boyhole that may be permanent. (It's our BOYHOLE not "asshole" or other
namby-pamby term!) Yet, as a "transitional slave," I have it relatively
easy--some semblance of normalcy. I go to school, etc., on my own. Most
slaves are transported in full restraints by Goons via STV, Slave Transport
Vehicle. They live in cells, naked except when in the community, usually
escorted in full shackles by Goons. I have some freedom, if I am watched
every nanosecond like every other slave in our Community.

We slaves inspect each other. We text/email all violations to the Community
Communications Desk. I still have infractions daily. Masters show me a
sample every morning. Timmy sneaked into the boys room for a piss at
1:10. (You don't wanna know the punishment for pissing my pants!) Timmy was
1 minute 22 seconds late for math class. Last Wednesday, I got a C on my
biology quiz. Masters sent a text before Ms. Frances even returned my
paper: punishment pvtrm 1515. Dunno how they knew. Ms. Frances in The
Network? Not unless they were Wilhemina and Seanette! I never imagined 2
beautiful boys could be so cruel, control every aspect of my life. I played
at "slavery," had no idea how harsh it is. I obsessed over Billy and Sean
O'Malley, cummed gallons over them. I did not understand: I was the prey;
they the predators. They were very much aware of my fixation. They watched
me "top myself" in The Clearing. Now they OWN me--body and soul.

I report to Masters every school day 0700 in the Private Room. Our "Private
Room" is the largest of 4 rooms in a long abandoned subbasement, a bomb
shelter, 2 stories underground, with 4' thick concrete walls. Classes were
held there during World War II, so if the Nazis bombed Limerick, its
students would be safe. There were even plans--and I'm not making this up,
guys--to mate boys and girls to repopulate the town! Seamus laughs at the
galloping paranoia over big bad Nazis destroying Limerick and its
citizens. If they did, town children would be safe in their own "Fortress
of Solitude,"--Superman eat your heart out--and create a whole new
Limerick! It was nuts, but Seamus says "The whole country kissed the
blarney stone, laddies, afraid they'd be bombed into oblivion!" Seamus
says. "They all but wet their panties, laddies!"

Kids accessed the subbasement classrooms via now sealed entrance in The
Clearing leading to a tunnel to the subbasement. Ellis Cosgrove, Caretaker
of what then was Limerick State Park, assisted kids into/out of the
tunnel. The State Park is now thick woods, between Limerick and Levittown,
with a path about 2 feet across--running through it. Ellis' cabin is on the
Limerick side of what we call "The Clearing." Legend goes, Ellis kept an
eye out for pretty bois and "escorted" them to his cottage. There he
tortured, killed and ate them, fed leftovers to Brewster, Hound from Hell,
and buried the rest. One night, 60 years ago, awakened by Brewster's howls,
The Town Council discovered Ellis' body, put down Brewster and buried them
together. Rumor mill was in overdrive so the posse wouldn't enter Ellis'
cottage fearing what they might find. Thirty years ago, the man we call The
Ubermaster was called to take control of a nascent, disorganized
Master/slave community. Old Joe, our high school custodian, took
"Mr. O'Clair," to The Clearing showed him Ellis' cabin. He took him to
Limerick High and showed him the "Private Room." (Old Joe is reputedly a
full-blooded Sioux. "Old Joe's" age or real name? Only Seamus knows and
he's not tellin! Seamus is usually an inveterate schmoozer but when he
doesn't want to talk, he makes the sphinx loquacious!) Slaves use the
subbasement's long-abandoned classrooms if the "Private Room" is almost
exclusively Billy, Sean's and mine. Rumor has it The Masters Council will
reopen the entrance in The Clearing as a slaves' entrance to funnel slaves
into a the subbasement and undergo thorough strip-search inspection by a
team of Goons. Master Verdi, our Chief Slave Officer, declares, too much
sloppiness, too many slaves not complaint with dress code, too much missing
of too many infractions, on too many slaves.

We slaves check and discipline each other each other. If we don't, we BOTH
get double punishment. Alex caught Daniel with his undershirt inside out
the other morning. Alex was late for class, let it slide. Another slave
witnessed & reported both. They were summoned to Coach Mark's office. Coach
made Alex paddle Daniel with Coach's Board of Education till his ass
bled. Then Coach gave Alex TWICE that. Just as they pulled on shirts and
jeans, Coach Mark noted their underwear was bloody. A half-hour each with
the razor strop made the point: NO excuses. Coach called their Masters.

Next morning, on the bus, Alex whispered barely audibly, "Pray you never
get caught like that, bro!" I hugged him,, took him to the Private Room,
and said, "Show me, Alex!" The reason for his pain & hoarseness was
obvious: Master Gonzalez had SCOURGED him. Jayzuz! The skin of Alex' back,
ass and backs of his legs was damn near flayed off him. I saw hamburger in
better shape. I hugged Alex and let him cry on my shoulder. Maybe Masters
are right when they say I'm too "compassionate," but Alex' pain musta been
unbearable! (We bear it; we have no choice). Dunno how Alex got through the
day. He told me he was violated 5 times for bloody underwear. Jayzuz! Even
his fuckin dick was bleeding! I violated him, too. Couldn't excuse any of
it. Your ass or mine, Alex and if I have my druthers I druther it be YOURS,
bro!

Daniel was cited 29 times: sitting too carefully, bloody clothing, a hole
ripped in his underwear, somebody's cum seeping out of his boyhole. Tired
of the crap, Master Daniel had moi and Will Pierpont, one of our 2
communications specialist slaves, take Daniel to The Clearing for a 2-hour
bullwhipping. Will is arguably the most proficient of all of us slaves with
the bullwhip.

Will showed me one of his specialties. "Hold his ass wide, Timmy, and I'll
get his boyhole and between his legs!" Holy shit! Will gave Daniel 15 of
the best right on his boyhole and the bare skin between his legs. Fucker
screamed so purty!! Great thing about The Clearing--no one hears us scream
except Ellis' ghost. I gave Daniel a "repeat dose" with Will's tutelage. I
fucked Daniel hard and dry, wiped my dick on his undershirt, violated and
punished him stat for that infraction. What's another 30 minutes with
Mr. Bullwhip between slaves?!

Will fisted Daniel as he hung there, screamin his ass off, using only my
cum as lube. Will said, "Here's a kewl trick, Timmy--when you're in up to
your elbow, twist! Hurts the fucker like you wouldn't believe!" Damn,
didn't think Daniel had anything left to scream! Wonder Ellis didn't arise
and tell us to shut up & let him rest in peace--or maybe join the party!
"Gotta be careful, Timmy, don't lacerate the rectum--keep fingernails cut
and twist real slow--fuck it hurts!" Daniel could attest to that! Not much
left of Daniel by the time we were done. Not Will's or my problem!

Me and Will wiped our hands and arms off on Daniel's underwear. We rubbed
him down with alcohol. Then we made him get dressed. Master Daniel punished
Daniel yet again because he was a mess. His clothes and underwear were
ripped, bloody, cummy, blood seeping from his rectum. Certainly nuthin me
and Will's coulda done! Like Timmy sez, guys, our LIVES are Catch-22!
Daniel wasn't pretty next day but most compliant. Didn't even shed a tear
when Coach Mark rode his ass harder than usual. No one is sure of Coach
Mark's actual status in our Community but we do know he sits at the Right
Hand of God the Father Almighty, The Ubermaster, and operates under His
aegis. Kevin and Luis might as well be legal slaves. Rumor has it Coach
Mark pimps them out. No one asks...

Shit---enuf reminiscing and preening in the mirror. The mirror is not
vanity but so I have no excuse NOT to be squared away. Masters "rescued" it
from a neighbor's trash pile. Gotta get going. Wonder if cute little Jacob
knows how much of the clothes--including underwear and pjs-- his mom
tosses, end up with ME?!  Jacob's mom is reputedly somewhat overprotective
and makes hi m wear tees and briefs. "I don't care what other boys bare
wearing Jacob. When you are working and earning money you can buy what you
want. As long as I'm buying your clothes and you keep messing your
underwear, you will wear what I give you, young man and I will wash your
mouth out with soap if you are sass me!" Kinda cool to listen when all the
windows are open!

My water is finally hot. I take 4 more tablespoons of castor oil (yummy!),
2 more Ex-Lax, and prepare my enema. I'm so groggy. Masters never had to
call to wake me. I musta slept through my alarm. If I complete my
prescribed routine, I'll be 2 hours late getting to Masters. But if they
come and get me... I usually fast after lunch, Thursday, but like I said,
Mommy Dearest made a family dinner and demanded I eat with them. Stepfather
woulda beaten the shit outta me if I didn't. Gotta piss and shit sooo bad
and I haven't even taken my enema. Dunno how I'm gonna hold it. Maybe GOD
will have mercy because Masters will NOT!

I mix my enema--4 quarts of scalding hot water with eucalyptus castille
soap + dollop of mineral oil. I lay on my back, open my legs wide and shove
the nozzle in without a drop of lube. If I lube & insert it "nice and
easy," shit from laxatives, castor oil, and stuff will gush out. So, in me
goes a gallon of hot soapy enema laced with mineral oil--guaranteed to
clean me out first time, every time! The mineral oil reaches up, grabs my
insides and pulls everything out. I hate this sooo much. I hate laying here
naked, my legs splayed, as webcams watch the enema go in me. One zooms in
my on boyhole so Masters can watch the enema go in me. Bastards get off on
that. Good news is I get to do all this myself, somewhat at my own
pace. Goons or senior slaves administer most slaves' meds, enemas, etc.,
and supervise their morning "routines." But doing it to myself is also BAD
news. I can't say anyone is "making" me do this. "You like this Timmy! You
get off on this as much as we do!" Yeah, damn you, and I hate you for
making me admit it!

My enema is in me--fuckin GALLON. I get off my bed, extract nozzle from
boyhole, losing a little enema. The enema is so fuckin hot, I'm sweatin
rivers even though it's only 40 degrees in here. I gotta do exercises but
gonna skip this round. God help me if I lose everything. I gotta EAT
it--enema, shit, soap, and all--lick the floor clean, and start all over
again. If I puke, I eat my puke with shit and stuff--had lotsa practice. I
gotta cut corners today. I'm >2 hours late. If Masters come and get me... I
enter the code on my potty room door and wait... I struggle to stand still,
quietly, hold my enema, not even squirm. The cramps are sheer hell. And
it`s so fuckin hard to hold it. the mineral oil reaches up & grabs your
insides and pulls them out your boyhole. The cramps it all causes are
HELL-almost worse than the desperate need to shit! I wait HOURS, it seems,
struggling to keep my sphincter tightly closed and not give into the
agonizing cramps. I'll be whipped if I twitch let alone squirm. Can't even
relieve a hardon. And, of course, I'm punished for that--duh.

Finally, the door clicks. I sit on my potty chair and shit and shit
and... I may be shittin for DAYS. Gotta do this twice more then get whipped
for skipping 2 rounds of exercises and an enema. Should be yet one more
additional time. Fuckin oversleepin... If I follow the full prescribed
routine, enemas, exercises, etc., I'll be 2 hours late getting to
Masters. I'll be CANED for that. No thank you. When we fuck up, we respond
with a humble, "No excuses, Master!" and accept our punishment.  Sigh...

It all makes me crazy, you know. I'm as gaga for Billy and Sean as that
first day, maybe MORE! I am theirs till death do us part, and maybe... I
eagerly suffer the torments of hell at their hands. Yet, I'm conflicted: I
hate what they do to me; I revel in it. I hate the pain; I love the
pain. Don't hurt me; hurt me more. Hack off my balls piece by piece with a
dull butter knife in front of the entire school. I'll open my legs for
you. No need for restraints! My body, my life, my soul, belong to Billy and
Sean O'Malley. I'll have it no other way. If they ever declare it over, I'd
be shattered; I could not live. Like I keep sayin, you want answers go talk
to "Shrink Erik." I don't seek answers. It makes for too many
QUESTIONS--and they're harder than the answers!

So, how did I get myself into this mess? How did it all start? Well, it's a
long story and since I may be shittin till 2015...

Like I told you, one day, 3 years 8 months 17 or so days ago, I wandered
home along the path thru the Gully that separates Limerick and Levittown
and I found Ellis' cabin and all his "goodies." The gully itself is about 3
˝ square miles. The path through it is about 2 feet wide with a few dead
end side paths. The Clearing, as we refer to it in almost reverential
tones, is about 20 square feet situated in the middle between Limerick and
Levittown with Ellis' Cottage on the Limerick side. Ellis was Caretaker of
what was then Limerick Town Park. Ellis was a recluse, self-appointed
caretaker/guardian of Limerick State Park, fancy name for what even then
was a lot of bushes, trees and stuff. Ellis lived in the cabin for 40 years
with Brewster, Hound from Hell. They're buried together in an unmarked
grave. The Clearing continues to be maintained as a "clearing," even though
Ellis has been dead for >60 years. Ellis' cottage stands as it did when he
died in 1950. A heart attack, they assumed. Brewster howled to wake the
dead! The Mayor, Police Chief, Town Council, police and townsmen, armed to
the teeth, came to The Clearing, found Ellis dead. The "posse" shot
Brewster to get to Ellis' body, buried them, man and beast together for
eternity, then got out!

I told ya, legend has it long before John Wayne Gacy, Ellis and Brewster
waylaid young boys coming out of the exit in The Clearing, dragged them to
his cabin, tortured them, ate them, fed "leftovers" to Brewster. Limerick
had >100 boys missing in the 40s. Townspeople swore they heard boys'
screams at night. No one ever was brave/stupid enuf to approach Ellis'
cottage even in broad daylight till the Mayor and his "posse," awakened by
Brewster's insane howls undertook their "expedition" that morning, heavily
armed, unsure of what they might find. Today, almost no one traverses The
Clearing, swearing it's haunted by the ghosts of Ellis and Brewster and all
the bois Ellis reputedly tortured, ate... Considering the "toys" Ellis'
cottage is stocked with and the old-fashioned, bloodstained rack, there may
be something to the legends. "Ye don't want to know, laddies, ye don't want
to know!" Seamus never speaks of it except to reflect sadly on the bois who
went missing during that period.

I ventured into Ellis' cabin curious but apprehensive. I'd heard so many
stories... I was eager to see what was there. I saw the rack in the main
room, checked it out; it was dusty but worked! Hand-cranked--no
electricity--bloodstains and candle wax all over it. Looks like Ellis used
candles for more than light! I stripped and lie on the rack, put my limbs
in the cuffs, wished I could ratchet myself tight. Easy to dislocate a
guy's arms and legs--no regulator to keep from going too far. Wonder how
many bois Ellis stretched to the limit and beyond? How many bois' arms,
legs, dicks and balls Ellis ripped off on this rack, roasted and ate? Bet
Ellis used trial and error to see how far he could stretch his "bottoms,"
and sometimes it was "error." No arms, no legs! My bad! Like I said, they
buried Ellis and Brewster, and left the cabin intact.

I love this rack. Low tech--like I said, no electricity in Ellis'
cabin. But it's more effective. You can stretch a guy taut and beyond,
little by little. I looked in the closet. OMG--boxes of "toys"--many in
almost pristine condition, just dusty! A speculum and a box of sounds,
dilatators and what I realize are old-fashioned rubber catheters! Before
today's disposables, catheters were autoclaved and reused. Ellis just
reused. Like I said, All we know of Ellis is for about 40 years he and
Brewster, his faithful canine sidekick, were self-appointed caretakers of
Limerick Town Park. Seamus doesn't know how old Ellis was, or remember when
Ellis and Brewster were not caring for the Park. Again, rumors abound that
Ellis waylaid bois coming out of the access to the subbasement, tortured
and ate them, fed leftovers to Brewster. Ellis & Brewster were so feared by
Townspeople no one ever ventured there.

I wanted every "toy" used on me and tortured till I screamed myself hoarse,
cumming and cumming till I couldn't cum anymore! I dreamed of Ellis
stretching me on the rack till my limbs were torn off! I discovered tons of
ropes and stuff in a closet. I went outside, tied coarse twine around my
dick to keep me hard. I inserted a tiny buttplug in my ass, attached tit
clamps. I tied ropes around my wrists and ankles, looped rope around the
trees, lay down, pulled the ropes taut, tied them off around my ankles and
one wrist. I pulled the 4th wrist tight and held on to it. It was
exquisite! I fantasized a gang of men assailed me, tied me spread eagle and
did all kinds of horrible/wonderful things to me! (Actually, I dreamed it
was Billy and Sean doing horrible/wonderful things to me! DO be careful
what you wish for, guys!) I creamed myself again and again. By the 5th time
(!) only a dribble came out but I was so deep in my fantasies I was hard
again in seconds. The pain was terrible; it was wonderful, it was all mixed
up! This became the norm for the rest of my life. I cummed again--a few
dribbles--fantasizing "Master" made me cum till I had no more cum to cum
then punished me for not cumming! (Masters like to do this to fixed
slaves. "Why didn't you cum, slave?" "Master, I can't cum!" "No excuses,
slave, you're to be punished!" Catch 22 upon Catch 22...)

I came back as often as I dared not fearing Ellis and Brewster. Let'em join
the party! I got sophisticated enough to tie rope around my balls and loop
the rope around a tree, holding it taut. I progressed to stronger clamps
that bit hard and hurt! Once, I sandpapered my tits till they bled,
attached the harshest tit clamps I could find. I tied 3 of my limbs as taut
as I could. I put a row of tiny clothespins around the corona of my dick. I
lubed a skinny dildo, fucked myself slowly with it, cummed so intensely, I
almost passed out! The pain was excruciating and exhilarating! I wiped
myself with a ratty old t-shirt, jumped back in my Tommy Hilfiger undies
and clothes, put things away, and left quickly, not entirely sure I wanted
Ellis & Brewster to join my "party!"

I suppose I got careless. I assumed The Clearing was isolated, no one else
daring to traverse the path, let alone The Clearing. So many (fantastic)
rumors about Ellis, Brewster & the boys they supposedly waylaid, tortured,
maimed, killed, ate... Almost everyone goes via perimeter road/path, 5
miles around the "Park" vs. 2 minutes via path thru Clearing. I spent many
afternoons after school "torturing myself." It was breathtaking to be
"spread eagle" in hot sun or 2 feet of snow and subzero windchill--typical
Long Island winter! I dreamed of a cruel Master staking me out, blindfolded
and tittie clamped in the snow and windchill! I'd cum, clean myself, jump
into my Tommy Hilfigers, stash things and run! I never imagined I'd have
real Masters to whom my gratification meant nothing. That's why, first
thing this weekend, Masters will put me on the milker for an hour and drain
me of cum I won't make for 3 weeks. I'll be so drained I won't be able to
get hard let alone cum for 3 days. They'll whip me for hours in The
Clearing.  Don't matter if it's -20 and -50 windchill or the fat lady sings
or dances a polka: it's over when THEY say it's over. DO be careful what
you wish for...

So, I was "topping myself" in The Gully that afternoon 3 years 8 months 2
weeks, 3 days, 15 hours ago. I attached a set of tit clamps, lay down and
pulled the ropes as taut as I could. I pushed a dildo up my ass, wrapped a
4th rope around my right wrist and lay back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed
sensations that drove me to a shattering orgasm. Suddenly I heard voices. I
tried to unwrap the rope from my right wrist but it was already tied
off. "Holy shit, Sean, you gotta see this! A slaveboy all tied up, just
waitin for us to break him in!" I knew who it was—the O'Malley twins
then about 12, with those sexy, half man-half boy voices, coupled with
their beauty that even then drove guys mad. I pleaded, "Please let me go,
Billy." "Aw, poor baby wants me to let him go! Should I let him go, Sean,
or should we have some fun?" "Fuck, Billy, we've always wanted a slave and
here's one all neatly packaged for us! We'll take him to our Playroom have
some fun!" "Yeah, Sean, let's have fun here first! Let's fuck him. I'm
itchin to shove my dick up that boyhole! Bout time you had a real dick up
there, boy, never mind that namby-pamby dildo! We been watchin you! You
just playin, boy! You need a REAL Master! Now you got TWO of'em! We're
gonna fuck the shit outta you, boy! Then we're gonna take you to our
"Playroom," and torture you till you can't scream anymore!

They already had me spread-eagle so taut I could only wriggle my fingers
and toes. They stretched my balls to my ankles; I thought they'd be torn
off! Billy handled my dick and it sprung to hardness--a whole 5 inches!
"Lookit this excuse for a dickie, Sean! Need a magnifying glass to find
it!" Well, compared to you, Billy and Sean...  I told you, first time I saw
them changing for gym, I almost lost it. Those magnificent Dicks of Death
rising from their hairless groins with big pendulous balls... Jayzuz! But
fuck--we all do--Gay straight, something else...  Like I said, guys who
never give another guy a glance go, "nuckin futz," as Pookie always says,
over the O'Malley twins. No wonder little Sam is so crazy with lust for
them. I grok it, Sam, I grok it! Sigh...

"You a virgin, Timmy? I betcha he's cherry! I'm gonna take his cherry,
Sean!"  "Go for it Billy! I'll take sloppy seconds! We'll take turns till
we're spent!"  "OK, Sean. Let's see how many times we can fill his holes
and make him cum!"  "Please don't hurt me. Just let me go on my way!"  They
laughed uproariously at that! Sean untied my legs from the trees, pulled
them back, tied them off to a tree in back of me so my ass was fully
exposed. Shit. I was in for it. I pleaded with them, "Please don't hurt me,
Billy and Sean! Please let me be!" I hated myself for blubbering--it just
encouraged them. They undressed and I went nuts all over again viewing
those magnificent hairless bodies. Billy and Sean were still boys--about
12. But they were gorgeous even then. And damn--those dicks! Never saw
anyone with such "endowments." Their dicks are a foot long, an inch
thick. They are perfectly circumcised with perfect coronas. They are
beautiful--my blond, blue-eyed GODS. Not handsome, not "cute," dammit,
fuckin BEAUTIFUL. Completely hairless, then and now, from neck down, making
their magnificent Dicks of Death stand out, making them look much younger
than they are and, dammit, sexier! Master Dad had them rendered permanently
hairless at age 10 to accentuate those Dicks of Death he had
custom-designed. They have big pendulous balls--perhaps why they never run
outta cum. They were hard as rocks. I couldn't take my eyes away. I was
drooling--shamelessly fuckin DROOLING.

"You like what you see, boy? They're goin up your boyhole. So much of our
jism goin up there gonna empty when we're not fillin you. Gonna fill your
sinuses with our hot cum!" Billy kissed me, the son of a bitch. I groaned
in ecstasy. I'd never kissed a guy or been kissed by one. I leaked like
crazy. They laughed as Sean scooped up a finger full of my jism and fed it
to me. The horror hit me--those fuckin tree trunks were goin up my ass! My
eyes were wide with terror and anticipation. I had dreamed of this! Except
in my dreams, I was the fucker, they the fuckees! And now I was gonna be
the fuckee! "Timothy meet reality; reality meet Timothy!" Erik always says,
with a gentle smile!
 "We have no lube, Billy. You gonna use spit?"  "Fuck, Sean! I'm takin his
cherry dry and tight! Goin right up your boyhole, Timmy. Remember that
slave, it's your BOYHOLE, not your asshole!" Billy is slightly more
verbose; Sean is quieter. It's scary cuz I don't know what he's
thinking. Billy is also the more natural bottom if Sean is no slouch at
taking it. There's an intense, unspoken rivalry between them. Anything you
can take I can take 4 times more! Very complex, symbiotic
relationship. They feed off/into each other, NEED each other. They have as
complex love/hate relationship with Master Dad as I do with them! Erik
thinks them "fascinating." "Where is Dr. Mengele when we need him?" Erik
often quips. OMG, Erik, bro, don't go there!

Billy rubbed a finger across my boyhole. I shuddered in dread and, yeah,
anticipation. I WAS a virgin. I'd not progressed beyond skinny dildos lubed
with gobs of KY. That was gonna change! Billy spanked my upturned
ass. Jayzuz it hurt! "Gonna getcha nice and hot for us, Timmy! Gonna beg me
and Sean for our dicks before we're done. Gonna feel so empty without me
and my brother fillin you, you're gonna beg us to fill you!" (They are
geniuses but like "gutter talk." If Master Dad hears them he washes their
mouths out with soap then spanks them for an hour. Do they do it
deliberately? Not going there. They get off on taking as much as they
give. They are each other's top and bottom, Master and slave.)

Billy used my undershirt to wipe his dick and my boyhole dry. They put a
leather collar tight around my neck. Sean tied my dick tight to a ring on
the collar. I was spread open, my boyhole, exposed, ready for Billy's
dick. My dick was pulled in one direction, my balls in another. I
blubbered, "Please don't hurt me, Billy!" I hated myself for being reduced
to that. It's become routine: shamelessly begging for mercy even though I
know how much such pleading eggs them on. They just laughed. "We're gonna
hurt you bad, boy!" Sean removed my clamps, abraded my tits with an emery
board till they bled freely, attached vicious clamps and screwed them
down. "The real thing baby!" Billy cooed into my ear as he yanked hard on
them and I howled in incoherent pain. He stretched my clamped tits out in
front of my face. I blubbered like a baby! "Please," I gasped, "they hurt
so much!" They mocked me, giggling, "Ooh--they hurt sooo much!" Damn--they
DID hurt! I was a mass of pain" my dick pulled tight to the collar around
my neck, my balls pulled down to my ankles via cord from the ball
stretcher. On top of the pain, I was freezing my ass off. It had to be -20
with serious windchill. And I was spread-eagle in 2 feet of snow! I've
learned slaves have no comfort. We can be sent out in -20 windchill in a
tank top and shorts, in 95 degree heat in double t-shirt and briefs,
longjohns, flannel shirt, corduroys, sweater or hoodies and parka. then
punished for being dressed inappropriately. (Claim our Master dressed us
like this? We're whipped within an inch of our lives for such
BLASPHEMY. Your Master would never do such thing! 99.9% of time, we slaves
can do nothing right! Catch-22 upon Catch-22, Sigh...

Then I howled in real pain as Billy entered my virgin hole dry, slowly
pushing in his massive Dick of Death.  "Hurts like a bitch this way,
Timmy!" He chuckled, his voice husky with arousal. "When you enter in one
thrust, gets the pain outta the way. This hurts every inch, don't it,
Timmy! Gonna fuck you real slow so you feel every inch of my dick goin up
you!" Billy kept up a steady stream of "chatter" as he relentlessly pushed
his huge dick up my virgin shit chute, if I was screaming too loud to hear
much of what he said! I didn't know I could hurt so bad. I couldn't twist
away; I was tied too tightly spread-eagle. And if I moved a millimeter, it
hurt everything: my tits, balls, dick... Billy went all the way in, pulled
back and pushed it home again, very slowly, making it hurt, drawing out the
hurt. Thought I was gonna pass out from pain. Finally, what seemed like
hours later, Billy spewed gallons of cum up my ass. "You been fucked, boy!"
"And you LIKED it!" Billy declared with glee, picking up gobs of my cum
from my dick and feeding it to me, gob by gob. Shit. I'd cummed
GALLONS. That shame was far worse than having my virginity so violently
taken from me. Had I liked it? It had been one of my fantasies. Timmy
knows, bois, being raped is lotta guys' secret fantasy! But I had no time
to "process" as "Shrink Erik" would say! Billy fed me my own cum,
finger-full at a time. I wanted to puke but sensed if I did, I'd eat my
puke, cum, snow and all. Shit...

Billy took his brother's place kneeling over my face, his shit-covered dick
swinging in front of my face as his twin entered me, cheerfully taking
"sloppy seconds." Sean's fuck was a little easier with Billy's cum as lube
but he was no gentler. Billy shoved his truncheon down my throat. "Clean
your shit off my dick, boy, and if you bite, me and Sean are gonna yank
your teeth out!" This was done to them, I learned. As Master Dad trained
them to suck, he felt teeth too many times. So, he had their teeth removed
and replaced with full upper and lower dentures. Dr. Samson, aka Master
Norman, Community Dentist, does this for all slaves. When Master Dad fucks
Billy and Sean's mouths, their dentures come out. Master Dad likes them
nice and smooth inside and out--never feel teeth again! Cruel "sumbitch" as
Master Donald would say. I will learn most slaves are edentulous--their
teeth have been extracted and they've been fitted with generic
dentures. Slaves never "eat." They're fed formula via tube down their noses
into their stomachs. Thus, they have no need of teeth. I certainly knew no
more of Dr. Samson's "other life" than I did of Doc O'Malley. Jayzuz--what
I didn't know...

Billy and Sean, too, are fed formula via feeding tube down their noses into
their stomachs. If they are made Masters, Master Norman will create dental
implants. Otherwise, their esophagi will be surgically narrowed and their
"food" forever will be formula via tubes down their noses into their
stomachs. Like all slaves, they will get plenty of "nourishment" in the
form of cum and piss but never again eat real food. A few slaves have
"gastrostomys" –opening in their abdomen via which they're fed formula
but The Masters Council, our governing body, decreed they want slaves fed
formula via tube down their noses. More humiliating. How lucky we
are...NOT!

Slaves do NOT eat, no matter what. My classmate and brother slave, Ryan
O'Riley, is a concert pianist. When Ryan is on concert tour, Harold and/or
Andrew, Nurse Goons, accompany as "escorts," Only liquids can pass through
Ryan's surgically narrowed esophagus. He is fed formula by tube, and, of
course, plenty of cum and piss. Like all slaves, he is "pissed" once a day
then his cath is sealed. If the Goon forgets... A few weeks ago, Ryan was
performing in Chicago accompanied by Harold, an exceptionally cruel, horny
bastard. Ryan's t-shirt caught in his tit clamps as Harold stripped
him. Ryan cried out. Harold put Ryan over his knees and gave him such a
spanking Ryan could barely sit on the piano bench next day! Harold also
"forgot" to piss Ryan so he went >72 hours without being "pissed." Hope the
audience didn't notice Ryan's discomfort and "antsyness" on the piano stool
due his almost bursting bladder. Harold wouldn't "piss" Ryan for another 24
hours by which time Ryan was writhing in agony and punished for
that. Pissing is a luxury to which slaves are not entitled. Slaves' go at
least 48 hours without being "pissed," while being administered
diuretics--oral and IM--shot in the ass--twice/day plus full fluids. SLAVES
SUFFER. A rule we all quickly internalize.

Harold once made Ryan stand outside for 2 hours on a hotel balcony in just
his undershirt for the entire world to see in -40 windchill. Master Verdi
took care of the police. Chicago Chief of Police is an "ally.". When Ryan
complained about the cold and humiliation, Harold whipped him for an hour
with the riding crop Goons carry, then fucked him for another hour. Harold
and Andrew are cruel, horny bastards who love fucking and working over a
cute slaveboi like Ryan. They like boyish slavebois, and Ryan fits that
bill. He's 17, looks about 12. Because of our lack of body hair, we ALL
look younger than we are. Ryan is only 5'3" so he looks even younger. All a
slave's life, kids... We cry, we cry alone; no one comforts a
slave. Masters/Goons give us something to cry about. Yet another
Catch-22--we're not supposed to cry. But we can't help crying--we hurt so
fuckin much! Managing a bursting bladder, exacerbated by potent diuretics
by mouth and shots in the ass, is a unique hell in itself.

If Billy and Sean fuck up their proposed Mastership, Master Dad will have
them fixed and permanently enslaved. Does Master Dad want them to fuck up
so he can permanently enslave them? Not going there. They confide in Erik
because he saves their sorry asses. Erik is a wiz at programming and if it
weren't for him, they'd fuck it all up. It's so natural to Amin and Joe,
our Geek slaves, they can't teach it! IMHO, Billy and Sean also confide in
Erik because he' not Gay, doesn't give a shit about the Community's
"protocol," won't report things to Master Dad. and is (among few)
unaffected by their sexual allures. (Erik is kinda my "Co-Master," but
that's between Erik, Maser Dad, and Billy and Sean and a long story I'll
get to later!)

Sean cummed quickly. I was surprised. I now understand they have problems
with self-control. They can hold off just so long then they HAVE to
cum. They cum gallons even if they've cum 35 times. They're ready to go
seconds after erupting, even if it IS their 35th time. They have no
refractory period. They are compelled to cum, need release. They eventually
exhaust themselves, deplete their cum but not for hours and hundreds of
cums. Billy has more self control than his twin. Don't ask me whys or
wherefores!

They fucked me and cummed again and again and again for hours of non-stop
fucking, never going soft. They alternated holes again and again. I was a
mess physically, emotionally... I could not believe I was being violated,
RAPED by my Gods. Or was I being "raped?" Rape implies force, violence. Did
I consent? Did I want them to take me? FUCK YEAH! I've been reminded a
million times: A slave has no consent to give or withhold. Unless our
Master deems otherwise, we are subject to inspection, violation, and
"abuse" by freebois/men. I'm a Transitional Slave but still subject to
these rules. Master Dad has made me available so everyone is free to have
their way. I cannot refuse anyone's demands or Master Dad himself will
punish me.

Dunno how many times Billy and Sean fucked me, cummed in me, I cummed, or
how many gallons I EAGERLY drank of their cum & pee. "If you spill a drop,
Timmy, we will whip you senseless. If you puke you will eat every drop of
your puke, snow, dirt and all. No bullshit, Timmy." "Yes, Masters!" I
replied enthusiastically. My stomach gurgled but I held it all
down. Spill/puke up the nectar of my Gods? NO WAY!!! Like I said, I was in
hell...HEAVEN.  Finally, Billy declared, "Sean, bro, we are done! Two
hundred twenty seven loads, two hours and forty three minutes! Not a
record, bro, but close to it!" They exchanged deep kisses, their dicks
still not fully soft, dangling, dripping freely below their hairless
groins. Their balls were somewhat reduced in size but almost as immense as
when cum-filled. Remember, Billy and Sean were about 12 then. Today at 15,
they remain BEAUTIFUL, not much taller, those Dicks of Death bigger Dicks
of Death, those voices remain half-boy, half-man and they are so goddam
seductive they'd probably have the Pope outta his white cassock beggin for
those dicks in both "holes" within 5 minutes. Like I said, grown men, guys
who would NEVER give a guy a second glance go weak in the knees, tremble
and babble incoherent at just sight of my GODS.  .  Sated, they expertly
lashed my wrists and ankles to tree limbs and hauled me, poles on their
shoulders, Billy taking the lead. As we processed, Sean whipped my ass and
back with saplings. They hauled me like this, bleeding, cum dripping from
both "holes," as I would learn to call them, to their home. If I thought I
was in hell now... They took me in a side entrance, cut me loose, held me
tight. "This is our `Playroom,' Timmy!"they announced. Jayzuz! I didn't
know what some of the devices were, but wanted every single one used on me,
immediately! I was scared; I was thrilled! Be careful what you wish for,
guys!

Billy and Sean put me on the rack and quickly, expertly stretched me
out. They took off their shirts and jeans, stood stripped to t-shirts and
boxers. They looked sooo sexy! I salivated aware what was under those
boxers--yellow with blue stripes. One threw his blue polo shirt over my
face. The other rubbed his underwear-clad torso over my face. They laughed
as my dick sprung to dripping hardness and I groaned helplessly. "Boy, you
got it so bad for us!" they declared taking turns slapping my rock hard
dick, laughing their asses off as my whole body turned red. I couldn't
believe I'd responded like that! I wanted MORE.

They inserted a catheter in my dick, inflated the balloon, made sure the
cath was patent, stuck the other end in my mouth secured it with surgical
tape so I couldn't spit it out. "Plenty to drink, slaveboy--right from your
own `spigot!'" They attached a cockring with numerous tiny sharp prongs
around the base of my dick. I howled at the onslaught of pain. "Keep you
nice and hard for us, slave, and keep you from cumming!" and it did. My
dick was never harder! I didn't need any "devices" to keep me hard! They
tightened my ball stretcher a notch leaving my balls shiny and exposed They
shaved every inch of my body, dry, FOUR TIMES--even my dick! They whacked
my balls with their belts for a while just to amuse themselves. It hurt so
much, prongs digging into my sac, my balls squished in their sac, Billy and
Sean hitting them with their belts. But the hurt, strangely, felt so
GOOD. They extended the rack another notch. I was sure all 4 limbs were
gonna be pulled off. I couldn't cry out with the drainage end of the
catheter in my mouth. They blindfolded me so I couldn't see what they were
doing. I was terrified; I was ecstatic! I was in hell; I was in HEAVEN!

They gave me a shot in my ass to "help you pee, Timmy!" I felt them scrub
my dick and balls. I smelled Ben Gay. It felt cold initially then
burned. Oh Jayzuz it burned! And I couldn't utter a word. I had to keep
swallowing or I'd drown in my own piss. They ran a tube down my nose into
my stomach, washed out the contents of my stomach, "'Gastric lavage,'
Timmy, get used to it! You'll be very familiar with the process!" I felt
something drip down the tube into my stomach. It was icy, and I shivered as
I felt each drop go down the tube. "Gettin formula, Timmy--how slaves are
`fed!'" I was in hell; I was in heaven. Oh God--I didn't know what I was!
I've never hurt so much in my life. But it felt so WONDERFUL. For the first
time, the pain/pleasure continuum bewildered me. You ask the "Shrink" how
the body confuses pain and pleasure. Some of us can do that. Most slaves
can't eroticize pain; pain is just pain. It makes slavery so
unbearable. You hurt and hurt 24/7. No one has full-body non-genital
orgasms like Pookie. But some slaves learn to channel pain into "pleasure,"
for lack of better word. But for slaves who are not natural masochists or
can't learn to eroticize pain, slavery is unbearable, but you bear it
because you have no choice. SLAVES SUFFER.

I appreciated the stark contrast between fantasy and reality. Reality
hurts! One twin put a crusher on my balls, smiled as he slowly screwed it
down, squashing my balls flat. It hurt so bad; it hurt so good! They
attached a cable to a ring on the end of the ball crusher and pulled my
flattened balls toward the end of the rack. They attached clamps to each
side of my catheterized dick. They pulled out the ones on my tits attached
them to cables coming off the ceiling. They attached smaller clamps in back
of those already on my tits and strung them to the ones on my dick pulling
it taut on my belly. I couldn't push up to relieve the pain in my tits and
my dick pulled so tightly up to my tits.  I couldn't push down to relieve
the pain in my balls. I couldn't twitch.  I howled, convinced they were
gonna pull my balls, dick and tits off my body, winch my arms and legs
right off my body and leave me a ball-less, limbless torso. I howled in
extreme pain: it was horrible; it was wonderful! Which is pain, which is
pleasure? Where does one end and the other begin? I dunno, guys... Billy
and Sean or should I say, MY MASTERS, just laughed.

"Hi boys! What are you up to?" I recognized Doc O'Malley's voice. Finally,
someone to put Billy and Sean in their place, make them stop the bullshit
and release me!  "Hi Master Daddy! This is Timmy, our new slave! This is
the boy we told you about we found topping himself in The Clearing! We're
breaking him in, Master Daddy!"  Master Daddy? WTF???  "That's nice boys!
What have you done so far?"

They removed my blindfold. I listened as Billy and Sean related the
sequence of events to the man I knew as their father, Doc O'Malley, town
physician who takes care of us from birth to death. Doc O'Malley smiled and
kissed his sons. He held each twin with an arm, pulled off their
undershirts and twisted their tits till they groaned in pain. They stood in
their boxers, almost giddy with anticipation. Master Dad then expertly
attached and screwed down vicious, serrated tit clamps. They gasped at the
pain, rising as their father pulled them up by their clamped titties now
dripping blood freely. The trio exchanged deep, passionate kisses. I've
learned these last 3 ˝+ years, Billy and Sean are each other's
top/bottom, Master/slave, lover but always, their dad's slaves. Master Dad
never let up on the chains attached to his sons' tits. The O'Malley twins
are 5'6. Master Dad is 6'4". Due to their genetic engineering they will
never grow in height. No one knows who designed the O'Malley twins, but
Master Dad's specifications are well known: the most beautiful young men,
maximum height 5'6", metabolism designed so they never gain weight and of
course, those Dicks of Death and ability (curse?) to orgasm repeatedly for
hours past the point of exhaustion. Did he have some sort gene for lust for
pain, some sort of "Master/slave gene" programmed? We don't ask...

Billy and Sean rose on tiptoes as Master Dad pulled them to tip toes by
their tit clamps. With his other hand he pulled down their boxers. They
quickly stepped out of them, their Dicks of Death rising to great
hardness. Master Dad kept tension on Billy and Sean's tits. Their faces
were contorted in pain, blood freely ran down their clamped titties, tears
streamed down their beautiful faces but their Dicks of Death could not have
been harder. "Let's put on a show for your new slave, what say boys?" "Yes,
Master Daddy!" Billy and Sean responded in unison, voices husky with pain
and arousal.

Master Dad released me from the rack & put me on the floor to watch the
"show," hands cuffed behind my back, dick tightly clamped to my tits, balls
chained to a spreader bar holding my feel apart. My catheter was still in
both ends. If I sat back I'd pull my balls off and maybe my dick, too. With
my collar chained without slack to the back wall, I couldn't sit forward to
ease the pain in my tits. How in-fucking-genious! I'll learn this is the
classic slave position. It becomes AGONIZING. That's the idea, of course!
Long experienced slaves tell me you never get used to it. Djuan , in a rare
unguarded moment, says he almost cries every night when Master puts him in
position. Djuan is a senior slave but a senior slave without slaves to
supervise. He's the senior slave of Levittown Medical Center, supervises
all slaves employed by LMC or assigned there as duty slaves. he's a kind of
affable, Black not Hispanic 20something dude. Because he does not directly
supervise slaves-he is Master Ethan's only slave-he is treated like, held
to all the dictates pertaining to any other slave. Master Ethan is Director
of Nursing Education at Levittown Medical Center and has complete authority
over ALL slaves employed/assigned there. Not a man to fuck with. And if
Djuan fucks something up he is punished in front of the entire cadre of
Levittown Medical Center slaves. Djuan is almost impossibly squared away,
helluva role model but we know what his life is like and not one of us
slaves would trade places.  Master Dad turned Billy and Sean to face me,
inserted catheters in their dicks, instilled several large syringefuls of
fluid in each twin's bladder, and clamped off the caths. He attached wrist
restraints, turned them to face each other. clamped them tit to tit then
each tit to small chains hanging from the ceiling, pulling them so taut
they had to stand on tiptoes to keep from ripping their tits off. Master
Dad pulled the chain increasingly taut so no matter how high on tiptoes
they stood, they couldn't relieve tension or pain. He clamped their
dickheads together, each twin's piss slit to the other, smiling as they
hissed in pain. Their dicks remained hard enuf to pound nails. He inserted
a huge double-headed dildo into each twin's mouth. Each swallowed his
half. I swear, it went down to their stomachs. Jayzuz! They groaned as
Master Dad inserted a huge double-headed dildo deep into each twin's
rectum. Each tit clamp was pulled taut to the ceiling. Their pain from this
alone must have been exquisite. Master Dad injected something into each
twin's balls evoking muffled shrieks of pain through the dildos deep in
their throats. Dunno how they could breathe around the dildos. He put a
ball crusher on each twin and slowly, deliberately crushed their balls
flat. They howled in pain through their dildo gags. Their dicks remained
rock hard. He attached chains to their wrist restraints, raised them high.
He pressed a switch and raised them about 5 feet off the floor.

Master Dad tightened Billy and Sean's ball crushers, took a huge bullwhip,
stepped back, and let it fly striking Billy hard between the shoulder
blades. Billy let out an almost inhuman shriek of agony! Master Dad never
let up, alternating between twins leaving deep large welts in each's
back/shoulders/asses/thighs/lower legs, smiling at their howls of pain,
muffled by the dildo in their throats. He did another injection into each
twin's ass cheek. "It's a diuretic, Timmy. It will make them produce
gallons of urine, but with their catheters clamped, they CAN'T pee. It will
enhance their `enjoyment', won't it boys?!" Billy and Sean mumbled "Yes,
Master Daddy!" through their dildo gags. How the fuck they could breathe
through them, I dunno.

Master Dad whipped his sons viciously for an hour, back and front, turning
them several times. He curled the whip under their groins, whipping their
crushed balls. He paused occasionally to tighten their ball crushers and
all the clamps. Their pain must have been fierce yet their dicks never went
soft. Their inability to cum intensified their agony. Like I said,
wonderful blessing/curse: they never go soft, have no refractory
period. But, the converse is they HAVE TO CUM, need release. It's a special
agony for them if they cannot get release.

Master Dad positioned Billy and Sean, fronts, tits and dicks, clamped
together. He picked up a new tool. "This is a single-tailed whip, Timmy,"
he explained. "It may be the most devastating instrument ever invented by
man. My boys fear, loathe it. The bullwhip is not as destructive. But
first..." Master Dad rubbed down each twin's dick with Ben Gay. Their
shrieks were inhuman. He removed the double-headed dildo in their boyholes,
coated both heads of the dildo liberally with Ben Gay then reinserted it in
their boyholes, smiling at their incoherent howls of agony. He instilled
more fluids into each twin's bladder via catheter, & gave each another
injection in his balls, explaining, "Very special pain, Timmy, 2ccs of
saline directly into each testicle. There's nowhere for it to go! They have
to bear the pain till their testes absorb the saline."

Master Dad let the single-tailed whip fly across Billy's butt. A bright red
welt appeared immediately over the top of Billy's right asscheek, bleeding
freely. His howls of pain and struggles to get away from the brutal
instrument signaled how terribly that first lash hurt. Their bodies were
already welted and bleeding from the bullwhip. Master Dad allowed Billy no
time for recovery but continued lashing his ass, up & down, top, center
bottom, crisscrossing welts, blood flowing in rivers. He then did the same
to Sean who shrieked even louder. Sean has less pain tolerance than
Billy--again the more natural top to Billy's natural bottom.

Master Dad made one final turn on their ball crushers then hung pails from
rings on their ball crushers. "If I keep tightening the crushers I could
eventually rupture their testicles. There's no pain like it! But for
now..." I watched him add five 5 lb. balls to each pail. 25 pounds hanging
from each twin's crushed balls, Jayzuz! He re-coated their painfully erect
dicks with Ben Gay then injected 2ccs more saline into each testicle. Both
bodies were lacerated front and back, bleeding freely, their bellies
increasingly bloated from pee. Musta been potent doses of diuretic. Their
dicks remained painfully hard. I watched them struggle to cum,
understanding: a guy CAN'T cum when his balls are crushed. It created a
special hell for Billy and Sean. They NEED to "get off." Like I told you,
the downside to having no refractory period is not only CAN they cum again
and again, they HAVE TO. An interesting quandary: They're exhausted but
need to cum. Their dicks remain rock hard, their bodies demand another cum
and yet another after that until their store of cum and ability to cum are
exhausted. Like I said, with balls crushed flat, they CAN'T cum. And Master
Dad injecting saline into their crushed testicles created a special living
hell. I will learn there is, indeed, no pain on earth like it.

Master Dad wiped them down with alcohol-soaked gauze then whipped them
bloody all over again, working methodically, head to toes, toes to head,
back & front. They screamed in pain through their dildo gags with every
lash of the whip. Master Dad made each stroke of the whip hit paydirt, a
"money shot." Their bodies were bloody from necks to toes. Their pain must
have been unbearable. I will learn, also, that however unbearable the pain,
slaves bear it because WE HAVE NO CHOICE. Slaves are completely at Master's
whims, available for his use and abuse 24/7. A Master can do whatever he
wishes to his slave short of killing it. Yeah, A slave is, technically,
"it." It's no accident that in fixing, all of a slave's man parts are cut
away/out except his dick and that hangs there inert as wet spaghetti. The
purpose is, as Slave Rules so aptly put it, `EMASCULATION." A slave has no
man parts or organs except his lifeless dick. ergo, Master Robert or Master
Lee pronounce at the end of fixing: you are no longer a man but a
SLAVE. The convention is rarely adhered to. But a permanent, fixed slave is
technically not a male but an emasculated, sexless slave, "IT."

Then Master Dad ordered, "Cum boys!" The twins struggled to orgasm. With
their balls crushed they could not. They were in extremis but could not
gain relief. Master Dad was a pro--knew exactly what he was doing. An
interesting paradox: Master Dad and other Master physicians/nurses of our
Community are as adept at inflicting pain as he is relieving it. He smiled
as his sons struggled desperately for release but, for the first time in
their young lives, UNABLE to. They could not transcend agony to
orgasm. Strange way for a father to get his jollies but the Master
Dad/Billy and Sean relationship is anything but "typical." "I like to force
my boys to orgasm IN SPITE OF PAIN." His emphasis was clear. "But with
their balls crushed and in terrible pain, Timmy, they can't. It's a special
hell for fixed slaves. They have no testes, prostate, man parts. They can't
orgasm, `get off' on pain. Pain is just pain. Only very select few can
transcend pain and achieve non-genital orgasm."  I had no idea what Master
Dad was talking about. It was all so new to me--and overwhelming. Talking
to brother slaves I will develop some understanding. But perhaps I won't
"grok" it till it's MY turn to be fixed.

Master Dad left Billy and Sean writhing, crying hopelessly in awful pain
and frustration and casually tossed 2 more 5 lb. balls into the pails
swinging from their crushed balls. I watched the twins struggle with pain
and frustration of not being able to climax. Master Dad was indeed, forcing
orgasm IN SPITE OF PAIN. They have incorporated that in my routines. I get
no easing of the most extreme agony until I cum. Try it--you won't like it!
Billy and Sean could not cum because their balls were crushed flat and
there musta been 100 lbs. of steel balls in the pails hanging from their
ball stretchers pulling their crushed testes to the floor. It was
impossible for them to cum. Master Dad had obviously taken them further
than ever. He loves to escalate. Every few weeks he takes them to a new
apex. But never before had he made it impossible for them to achieve
orgasm.  .  Master Dad intensified the scene, cheerfully tossing another
5lb. ball into each pail attached to each of his sons/slaves balls. "You
will not be released until you have cum, TWELVE TIMES!" Billy and Sean
shuddered, wailed. Two more 5lb balls in each bucket, another application
of Ben Gay, another increase in tension of the chain attached to their
clamps. More strokes of various whips and canes to their asses. I couldn't
imagine their pain. Today, after 3 ˝+ years I know well. It was HELL for
Billy and Sean as they struggled against >150 lbs of steel balls dragging
their crushed balls almost to the floor. Their lacerated bodies oozed blood
front and back, shoulders to ankles. They struggled to breathe thru the
double-headed dildo deep in their throats as the Ben Gay coated
double-headed dildo abraded their boyholes. They managed a "climax" of pain
and frustration-- not orgasm. A sorta "shuddering" but never release so
direly needed.  Even the O'Malley twins cannot cum under such overwhelming
pain. They managed a feeble final spasm, utterly exhausted. Master Dad
smirked. Damn--he was enjoying himself!  "You're not trying hard enough,
boys!" he declared and tossed 2 more balls into each pail, cranked up the
chain to their tit clamps one more notch, refreshed the coating of Ben Gay
and applied 5 more vicious strokes each of the cane to their asses. Their
eyes widened in horror, tears streaming down their handsome faces now
contorted with intense agony. Obviously, Master Dad had never taken them
this far--inflicted such pain and expected them to cum, forcing orgasm in
spite of pain. Masters demand fixed slaves cum even when they are
anatomically, physiologically incapable of it. They're punished because
they can't. Catch-22 upon Catch-22...

The dildo in their throats kept Billy and Sean from reaching each other's
mouth to ease their pain. They only could look into each other's blue eyes
now deadened with pain, willing each other to somehow orgasm in spite of
their balls crushed flat to bring some relief to their suffering. They, of
course, could not. The profoundest masochist couldn't bring himself to any
kind of "orgasm." Well, Pookie, maybe, but Pookie is one of a kind. NOBODY
has full body orgasms like Patrick Michael Zulu! He can't "cum," of
course. He's fixed and incapable of genital orgasm. But Pookie has
incredible full body orgasms no one groks.  Master Dion, our
Endocrinologist half joking says if he were a researcher, he'd make Pookie
a study subject to figure out how he does it!

Master Dad continued his assault with a variety of implements. According to
the wall clock, 47 minutes elapsed before they managed a cum-less "orgasm."
By then they had 200 lbs of steel balls in the pails attached to their
crushed testicles. Their bodies were bloody messes. Master Dad spared
nothing-not even their dicks--alternating instruments even using a vicious
penis scourge. Their boyholes were badly abraded by the dildo. Their mouths
were bruised from the dildo down their throats. They were beyond
exhaustion. But Master Dad announced, "That was seven. You have five more
to go boys!" They shuddered in dread but also, anticipation. They love it
when Master Dad escalates "scenes," pride themselves on taking more each
time, each twin trying to outdo the other. They managed 2 more feeble
"orgasms" encouraged by Master Dad throwing balls in the pail dragging
their flattened balls further to the floor. "That's nine `orgasms,' and two
hundred pounds, boys. I will add 10 pounds every 5 minutes till you manage
FIVE final `orgasms.' I know you are not getting relief. You cannot
cum. You cannot even achieve `retrograde ejaculation.' (Cum goes back, not
out). I want you to show Timmy what slavery means. Five more, boys, five
more" With that, he tossed a 1b. ball into each twin's bucket, pulling
their crushed balls to the floor. I thought he said 3 orgasms but now he
said 5. I'll understand this to be typical. Does the Master contradict
himself? Very well, he contradicts himself (thank you, Walt Whitman!) and
the slave never says shit! A slave NEVER contradicts his Master, never
says, "But Master, you said `three' now you're saying `five!'" that would
make it TEN and said slave would end up in a bloody heap on his cell floor!

A stock prod, full blast, was another "encourager." They managed another
feeble "orgasm," looked at Master Dad, pleading with their eyes, "This is
it, Master Dad, we can't manage any more `orgasms!'" Master Dad had no
pity. "Five more, boys!" and added more balls to each pail, taking up the
rope to each pail an inch or so to keep it off the floor. I could not
imagine what their pain must have been like or its intensity. I was
confused again because by my count, it shoulda been FOUR. But the Master
has the right to contradict himself, reset parameters, make any decision he
sees fit. There are basically TWO considerations. He cannot kill his slave
or cause his death. The slave can WISH he were dead. Billy and Sean reduce
me to that every goddam Weekend in Hell. I hate them for that but within 2
hours they have me begging, shamelessly, "Please, Master, kill ,me, please
end this suffering." They of course do not; they could not if they
wish. The other consideration is slaves MUST go to school/work. The Masters
Council is very clear and emphatic: slaves do NOT lie around their Masters'
"dungeon" in chains all day. Slaves go to school, work, earn their
keep. And whatever sleep a slave gets/doesn't get I what sleep he
gets/don't get. And if the stoopid fucker falls asleep at school/work, he's
in for a very special hell. If a slave is legitimately ill, there are 2
Nursing Goons on call 24/7 for every area of our Community. And Peter
Dubois can be almost anywhere in 10 minutes even in a blizzard. No one is
sure if Peter is part fish, part polar bear but nothing stops Peter even an
ice storm. Master Fred had a heart attack in the middle of an ice storm
last year and Peter was there in 15 minutes! The ambulance couldn't get
there but Peter took Master Fred in his car and was at the ER in 12
minutes!

It took another hour or so, several more "rounds" with assorted whips,
paddles, (causing the pails attached to Billy and Sean's balls--now filled
with at least 250 lbs. of steel balls--to swing freely. Master Dad
cheerfully added balls at random, tossing them into the pail with
abandon. He wielded cane and penis scourge plus frequent applications of
stock prod to "convince" his slaves to "cum," before they managed those
last "orgasms." I don't know how they did it. The most profound masochist
on earth could not achieve orgasm in the throes of such extreme pain and
fatigue. I couldn't imagine the extent of their pain and utter exhaustion.
But they managed something to satisfy Master Dad.  By the time he finally
said, "OK boys." Billy and Sean were whimpering, struggling to breathe and
cope with profoundest agony. They were exhausted, beyond crying. I could
see the utter fatigue in their faces and bodies. They had long ceased to
enjoy the pain or scene's escalation. Pain was just pain. And Master Dad
never let up. Billy and Sean's bodies were bloody from chest to toes. He
even did a helluva "bastinado" scene, viciously caning the soles of their
feet. Their Dicks of Death finally hung limp and bloody as they were long
since past arousal never mind orgasm. I don't know how they managed the
final "orgasms," or how Master Dad coaxed them from Billy and Sean's
exhausted bodies. The scene, according to the timer, went on for over SIX
HOURS. Master Dad never relented, never gave his sons any opportunity to
recover. If they had not "orgasmed" those final times he would have
cheerfully continued for hours more and never tired. Billy and Sean could
barely whisper.

Master Dad let them hang there, utterly spent, beyond exhaustion, for 15
minutes then slowly removed the steel balls from their buckets, one ball at
a time. He smiled at their whimpers as he jostled their pails removing each
ball. He unhooked the pail from their balls, slowly unscrewed their ball
crushers, easing each a notch at a time to allow their crushed testes to
return to normal size. He left their catheters clamped, gave them another
shot of diuretic and injection in their balls. That elicited a whispered
but heartfelt, "Thank you, Master Daddy!"  when he extracted the dildo from
their mouths. They frantically reached for each other's mouths to gain
relief from their fierce pain, but Master Dad forbade it. "No kisses
boys. Process the pain on your own."

And I wondered, so what do we do for encores? I shoulda kept my mouth--and
brain--shut! Master Dad smiled and said, "Well Timmy, you've had quite a
show! Now it's your turn! You're going to endured what my sons, your
Masters did with each of them! "Boys, he's all yours! Use your
imaginations! But no bullwhip, no single tailed whip. Anything else is fair
game! Have fun boys!" he said with a smile!

I groked it: if Master Dad is smiling, I'm in BIG TROUBLE! MY TURN???
OMG--he's joking. I can't take it. I was stunned. Dear God they gonna do
this to ME??? I will DIE! I understood for the first time that being a
slave meant I had no choices. God help me, I was gonna LEARN what it means
to be a slave. "I can't take this!" I blubbered, embarrassed, ashamed of
myself for being so quickly reduced to that. "Don't matter to us, Timmy!"
my Master croaked in the whisper that was all they could muster.  Oh God I
AM gonna DIE! God if you are there, help me! God--WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF
INTO??????  To be continued...

So what HAS Timmy gotten himself into? Will he "die?" Hint: if he does this
story is gonna come to an abrupt end. Stay tuned for the next thrilling
episode of Timmy and his Masters!

Authors Note: I'm not exaggerating about the paranoia of WW II. My dad had
to build a bomb shelter when he built the house in which I grew up. The
chances of some big bad Nazi bombing our hick town were significantly less
than Stalin having a Rosary Rally but fear was widespread and
infectious. Think US post-9/11.

Again, my apologies for the inordinate delay in posting this. God WON'T put
48 hrs. I'm NOT a kid anymore. I was ill then my Partner was quite ill and
I had to drive like a maniac several hundred miles. I stayed with his
brother and had limited computer access. I also fractured 2 bones and ended
up with my hand in a cast for 4 weeks. To add to the fun, I am only
semi-retired, still seeing clients at an area practice and haven't as much
free time as I expected! Life IS what happens while we're making other
plans! Or, as the real life Joel and Seth always say, "Nu, man tells God
his plans. God laughs!" Old Jewish proverb!

I welcome your feedback, thoughts, suggestions, criticisms, etc. at
Ghostwriter_xyz@yahoo.com Just give me a little time. I'm also covering
Facebook, Linked In and now Twitter. And I am only semi-retired, still
seeing clients 3 days/week 18-24 hours/day. God will NOT put 48 hours in a
day. Answer keeps coming back, if SHE did that, fools like moi would work
49/48 and immediately demand 72! (Debates on the Gender of God or the
sexual orientation of Shakespeare by appointment!)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Guys, never, never, EVER force someone to retain his
urine!!! And certainly don't even think about giving him diuretics on top
of urine retention. My friendly neighborhood Nurse Anesthetist and a
urologist friend laughed hysterically at this idea. Good way to have a very
DEAD "slave" on your hands and you in prison for manslaughter at the least!