Date: Mon, 14 Apr 2014 20:57:11 +0000
From: white collar <white_collar@hotmail.com>
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker Part 8

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Chapter 13

Oh my God, oh my God, shit, shit, shit.  What was I going to do?  Fuck, fuck,
fuck.  My wife had come home from her time away, unbeknownst to me and now
what was I going to do?  I had a butt plug up my ass, nipple cups on my tits and a
cage on my dick.  I could take the nipple cups off without much of a problem, but
how was I going to get the plug out without her seeing?  And I still had the cage
on.  There was no getting that off without royally pissing off Master.  I moved
around the house frantically, but aimlessly, my mind in tornadic activity,
weaving this way and that and swirling in purposeless turmoil.

Elaine came down the stairs, beaming.

"Hi honey.  It's good to see you," she said.  "I know it hasn't been all that long I
was gone, but I have so much to tell you.  And I want to hear what you've been
up too."

"How're mom and dad?  What happened?" I asked, hoping to divert her attention
to anything other than me.  How unusal is that? I thought.  Usually I loved it
when Elaine was paying attention to me.

"Oh, just a little scare.  Mom thought she was having appendicitis or something,
but it turned out to be a GI bug.  No problems at all.  They were happy to see me,
but told me I didn't have to stay.  So I headed back home.  I didn't call because I
thought I'd surprise you."

Did you ever, I thought.  And I hope I can avoid surprising you.  But Elaine
moved toward me, arms held out and pulled me close.

"It's so nice to...  What's this?" she asked, feeling the protruberances on my chest
and leaning back.  "What's this Wayne?"

"I-I don't know what to say," I stammered, flushing from head to toe.  "I-I,
they're nipple cups.  They're supposed to make my nipples bigger?"

"Why?" Elaine asked, in a tone that was a cross between matter-of-fact and
incredulousness.

"I-I-I thought you might like that," I ventured.  "I thought you might think it was
sexy to play with my nipples."  Oh, please, please, please let her believe me.  But
I knew already this was not going to end well.  Why did I have to bring up sex?
The logical outcome would be her wanting to have sex tonight.  I was fucked,
there was no doubt of that now.

A look crossed Elaine's face that combined horniness and slyness.  I felt her eyes
bore into me and had a sense of myself as a male spider about to copulate with
and then be consumed by his mate: the ultimate sacrifice for the next generation.
But there would be no offspring from this coupling, of that I was utterly sure and
the cage encompassing my cock insured that.  Not that it couldn't be removed,
but I dared not break it, knowing there would be dire, life-altering consequences.
And as soon as Elaine discovered it, as I could almost guarantee that she would,
my life as I knew it would be over.  I was about to be exposed as a thief and a
converted cock-sucker.  All I could do was to stand there like a rodent before a
cobra: frozen in dread and knowing that it would soon be over.

Elaine pulled me closer and reached up to grasp my swollen tits with both hands.
She squeezed them slightly, forcing a gutteral moan from my throat.  She
released her grip, looked up into my face and grinned an evil grin.  Then she
pinched hard.  I gasped and my knees buckled from the combined pleasure and
pain.  I was being trained to experience pain and pleasure at the same time.  My
Master was truly converting me into a perverted faggot.

Elaine latched onto my tits and pulled me up.  Using them like handles, she
pulled me into the bedroom and pushed me back onto the bed.  She ripped my
shirt open, exposing my chest (Master had forbidden me to wear an undershirt).

"Nice," she said, "Very nice."  She flicked the cups with her fingers and
squeezed, making me arch my back in excitement.  Then she pulled the cups off
and sucked and chewed on my swollen points.  I moaned in pleasure/pain as she
tortured my tits, murmuring "Nice titties.  What big titties for a little man."

I was so lost in the sensation that what she was saying didn't sink in; not that I
was in any position to do anything about it with Elaine lying on top of me as she
worked my tits.

"Stay right there Wayne," she said, climbing off the bed.

She went to her purse and as my hands found their way to my abandoned nipples,
I heard the rattling of a small chain.  A second later, she was lying by my side.

"Now, little man, I think it's time we had a nice heart-to-heart.  But before we do,
let's see how these work.  You want some tit play, then I'll give you some."

Elaine dangled a pair of Japanese clover tit clamps in front of me, grinning
wickedly.  A week ago, I'd had no clue about such things, but Master had taought
me a great deal in a very short time.  Elaine opened one and fastened it on my
right nip, pulling slightly to test its grip as I hissed through my teeth.  Then she
applied the second clamp to my left.  She pulled on the chain and stood up,
pulling me painfully into a sitting position.  Holding the chain taut, she reached
down and cupped my crotch with her other hand.

"So, this is your cage, right little man?  Little faggot cock-sucker?" she said in a
steely voice.

"I-I- Elaine..." I pleaded, utterly humiliated.

"I know all about it faggot.  I know all about what you've done.  And your boss
told me what he's done and is doing to you."

"Elaine, I..." I stammered.

A hard slap hit me from the left as Elaine dropped the chain and swung in a
single movement.

"Shut up faggot!" she shouted.  "What the hell did you think you were doing
stealing money?  Do you think I want to be married to a thief?  Do you think I
want to have my pictures in the paper?  The wife of convicted embezellor Wayne
Bateman?"

"But I-I was doing it for us," I cried.

"Fuck you, you stupid bastard.  You think all I care about is money?  Do you
think I would enjoy living on stolen funds?  And was it even enough to make it
worthwhile?  You're an idiot Wayne."

As she was castigating me, Elaine was squeezing my balls, making me want to
curl up in self-protection.  But I couldn't, because she'd taken hold of the chain
again and was holding me erect by the tits.

"Ahhhh!  Elaine please, please.  Stop.  Let me go," I cried out.

Suddenly, it was over.  Elaine release my balls and the chain and stood there
looking down on me like a female collosus, feet spread, hands on hips.

"Get out," she hissed.  "You can sleep in the spare room tonight.  Tomorrow, you
can move your clothes out of the bedroom."

"What're you going to do?" I asked pleadingly.  "Are you divorcing me?"

"What, are you nuts?  You think I'm as stupid as you?  I can be perfectly happy
as long as I don't have to look at you, or at least look at you as little as possible.
I'm staying here; it's my house.  You can stay in the spare room for now.  Be
happy I don't get you a dog house, though who knows?"

That last remark gave me a hollow in the pit of my stomach.

"As far as I'm concerned, your boss can do what he wants to you.  He's told me
some of his plans and I think it's hilarious.  You think it's bad now, just wait.
Now get out of here.  And put those cups back on; your boss wants you to have
great big faggot titties and he's asked me to make sure you wear your cups all the
time.  Now get out!"

I crawled out of the room on my hands and knees, too broken to stand.  The door
slammed behind me and I crawled down the hall to the spare room and up onto
the bed.  I curled up in a ball and cried myself to sleep.

Chapter 14

The next morning, I shaved my body as Master had ordered and dressed.  No
underwear, of course.  During my train ride downtown, the cage holding my dick
constantly pressed against my pants, never letting me forget where I was going.  I
got to the office and slipped into my cubicle.  I tried to focus on work, but it was
next to impossible.  Then Master came by my desk.

"Good morning Wayne," he said jovially, but with the slightest edge.  I knew
what that edge meant.

"Good morning Greg," I answered, raising my head, but keeping my eyes
lowered.  Not only did I know I wasn't supposed to look him in the eye, but
frankly, my nerves were shot and I was too frightened of what might be coming
down the road.

"You look like you had a bad night Wayne.  You really need to get more rest."

"Yes sir," I whispered hoarsely.

"I'd like to see you in my office at 10:00 Wayne.  10:00 sharp.  See you then
boy."

"Yes sir," I whispered again, knowing that he was already out of earshot,
knowing full well that he didn't need my reply; all he needed was my obedience.

I tried to go back to my work and managed a few transactions, but it was
impossible to focus.  At 9:55 I rose and walked to Master's door.  I entered and
told Derrick I had a 10:00 o'clock with Greg, said I knew I was early, but didn't
want to keep him waiting.  Derrick smirked and nodded toward the corner.  I
looked over to the corner and looked back at Derrick questioningly.

"Wait there," was all he said.

"Shall I face into the corner, or face out?", I asked, trying my best to be sarcastic.

"I really don't give a shit cock-sucker."  And he turned back to his work.

I felt slightly sick and flushed deeply.  So Derrick knew; who else knew?  Had
Master sent around an e-mail copying everyone but me?  Was I to be the office
bitch?  Realizing that Master had probably instructed Derrick to stand me in the
corner if I arrived early. I walked over.  I couldn't bear to look at Derrick, but
neither did I want to be found facing into the corner if someone else came in, so I
faced out, trying to look like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Why not
wait in the corner?  It's as good as any other place.  Except for a chair or the sofa,
of course.  But I knew that if I'd had the balls to sit when I'd clearly been
instructed to stand, those balls might soon be parted from me.  So I stood there,
flushed scarlet and trying to look casual.

The small clock on the table chimed ten.

"Go in faggot.  He's waiting for you," Derrick said without even bothering to
look up.

Yes, I'd become a thing.  The humiliation cut through me and cut away another
layer of my now fragile self-esteem.  I was being converted from a man into a
cock-sucker, useful only for a man's pleasure.  My remaining self-esteemed tried
to raise itself saying "at least you can try to do that well... fa..."  No, even my
inner voice couldn't say that word.  Not now at any rate.

I knocked and entered, closing the door behind me.  Going to the bathroom, I
commenced stripping off my clothes.  I reapplied the tit cups, folded my clothes
and placed them in the closet before standing at parade rest in front of Master's
desk.  The slight movement of the air over my now smooth skin sent shivers up
my spine, as much from the humiliation as from the cold.  I waited.  And waited.
It seemed like forever.  After a time, Master cleared his throat and spoke.

"Go to the bathroom faggot.  You'll see two handles above you on the wall.
Grab hold of them and place your feet on the yellow tiles.  Wait for me."

I went into the bathroom and immediately spotted the handles.  I reached up for
them and took hold of them.  My arms were now raised above my head and
spread about three feet apart.  Then I looked down for the yellow tiles, which I'd
not noticed before.  They were worked into the pattern in the floor in a way that
made them almost invisible unless you were looking for them.  But there they
were, about a foot and a half out from the wall and around two feet apart.  I
placed my bare feet on them and found that my feet were now spread and my butt
was protruding.

"Oh god," I thought.  "I know what's coming next."  My posture, slightly bent at
the waist, butt sticking out, arms raised and hands gripping the handles didn't
leave much to the imagination as to the intent of the placement of these fixtures.

My arms were beginning to fall asleep when Master finally came in.  He was
wearing a plastic apron.

"Good faggot; you're learning your place.  That's excellent.  Now, let's get you
prepared."

He unlocked the cock cage and slide it off of my dick.  Then he pushed my dick
and balls back through the ring.  He massaged my dick a little bit, making it
jump.  It had been confined so long, that it was eager to become erect and having
Master handle it was just what it needed.  I sprang to a full erection.

"Oh my, my, boy.  That's a hungry little dick isn't it faggot?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir," I answered, remembering that this was really about the
only verbal response he permitted.

"Would you like me to jack you off faggot?"

I started to say "oh please sir," but caught something in his tone.

"Sir, whatever please you sir," I rapped out.

"Very good faggot.  You're doing well.  I was beginning to wonder how long it
would take you to catch on.  Well it doesn't please me right now, so you'll have
to wait.  Who knows?  Maybe you'll have to wait forever.  And never, ever
forget: faggots need permission to come.  And if you come, believe me faggot,
I'll know it."

"Yes sir," I said, and I did believe him.

"Now," he said, "let's get you ready.  Now that I don't have to be concerned
about what Elaine will say or think, I can really do what I want."

My heart lurched when he mentioned Elaine; what was going on between them?
Obviously, he'd told her what had been going on, both about my, shall we say,
extracurricular use of company funds, but also he'd told her what he was doing to
me.  But to use her name said to me that there was something deeper going on.  I
wondered what it was...

I heard him opening a cabinet and craned my neck to see what he was doing.  He
pulled some tubing off of the shelf and then a large red rubber bag.  It looked like
a hot water bottle, but I couldn't imagine he was going to warm me up.  And
what was the tubing for.  He took the tubing and applied some lube to the smooth
tip attached to the end.  Then he slapped my ass, both cheeks, hard.

"Get ready faggot."

He pushed the tip into my ass.  I grunted at the sudden penetration.  Then he took
the bag and unscrewed the plug.  He took out his cock and began to piss into the
bag.  He must've been holding it a long time, because he just kept on pissing.
The sides of the bag began to bulge outward as he sighed contentedly.

"There, that's better," he exhaled.

He screwed the plug into the top of the bag and attached the end of the tubing to
it.

"Time for you enema faggot.  I want my faggot clean inside and piss is a great
cleanser.  You know, Mongolian women used to wash their hair with mare's piss.
Nothing goes to waste," he chuckled.

He hung the bag from the coat hook on the door and took my chin in his hand,
looking intently into my eyes.  I quickly dropped my eyes, remembering he'd
told me not to look him in the eye.

"Look at me cock-sucker," he growled, slapping me.  "I want you to look at me
right now, while I explain the rest of your life to you."

I gulped and raised my eyes slowly to meet his gaze.

"Tell me what you are," he ordered.

I swallowed hard.

"I'm a cock-sucker sir," I answered quietly.

"And what else?  What else are you?"

"I-I... I'm a faggot sir," suddenly feeling the deep truth of the statement; the truth
of what i was becoming and already had become.

"Excellent," he said softly.  "I'm glad you've come to acknowledge that.  So
now, I'm going to start in earnest with you.  I'm going to break you faggot.  You
will become a complete faggot.  Your only purpose is to please men.  You will
lose all self-respect.  Your only pride will be in making men happy.  You will
obey without question and do things you never even conceived of being done, let
alone doing them yourself.  You will continue to live at home with Elaine, if and
when I permit it.  But you belong to me, body and soul.  Do you understand
faggot?"

I stood silent for a moment, trying to absorb what he was telling me.  Then I
realized he was waiting for my answer.

"Yes sir," I answered.  "Yes... Master."

"Good boy."  And he squeezed the bag.

I felt the heat of his piss entering my rectum.  As he squeezed the bag, with his
other hand, he massaged my belly, which was begining to swell with his piss.  I
flushed with the humiliation of being filled with his urine.  I hung my head and
wept for what I'd lost and for what I was being turned into.

The bag must've been empty; Master let go of it, slapped my ass cheeks again
and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there, hands gripping the
handles, feet spread, ass plugged with the enema nozzle and Master's piss
washing inside my colon.  He hadn't restrained me physically, though there was
no reason he couldn't have.  But, in fact it was even more humiliating because he
had not restrained me; he simply knew that he had complete power over me and I
was so degraded that I would no longer protest or disobey.  The tears welled in
my eyes again.  I was his cock-sucking faggot; that was all and that was the end
of it.  I didn't realize that I hadn't yet sunk as far as I would eventually sink.

My gut was beginning to cramp, forcing a groan from my throat.  When was he
going to come back and release me so that I could empty my guts?  Shivers ran
through my body, increasing the discomfort.  Please Master, please let me go!
But I knew there was no point in even asking.  I knew that it was better that I
didn't ask, since asking would be a sign of disobedience and an invitation to
retaliation.  He would consider it his duty to punish me if I disobeyed.  So I stood
there in a cold sweat, groaning, guts cramping and struggling to retain the enema
and to not leak.  I felt a dribble running down my leg, making me clutch all the
more so as to not lose another drop.

From his office, I heard him talking on the phone.

"Yes, that's right... Can you come now? ... Good.  See you in a few."

I had no idea who he was talking to, but figured that if whoever it was would be
there in a few minutes, it wasn't going to be good for me.  Master finally
returned.

"Alright cock-sucker," he said, pulling the nozzle from my hole and pointedly
lifting the seat.  "On the toilet.  You can release it now."

I sat on the cold rim, doing my best not to slip into the bowl.  The sounds of wet
farting and splashing echoed through the tiled room, along with my grunts and
groans as my gut clenched in an effort to expel the urine.  I was bent over with
the contractions.  Finally, after a few more farts, it was over.  I sat up, wiping the
sweat from my forehead.

"Good faggot," Master said.  "You did well for your first time with a piss enema.
And you'll get better at it, the more you do it.  This is to be part of your daily
routine.  Not only does it clean out your guts, but it also cleans out your mind.  It
clears away the clutter of believing you're a man, when you're clearly not.  And I
don't want you to ever forget that.  Clear faggot?"

:Yes sir, thank you sir," I responded, almost automatically.

He was truly perverting my mind and destroying my self-esteem.  All I knew was
that I needed to please and obey him to avoid going to jail.  God knows what
might become of me in jail.  Somehow, I instinctively knew that I was now
marked as a cock-sucking faggot pussy boy, and the power-brokers in jail, both
those on the corrections side and the inmates, would take me down even further.
At least here, as the office cock-sucker, I wasn't likely to get wounded or killed.

Master made me stand in front of the toilet and bend over to grab my ankles.
Then he wiped my ass, finishing with a sharp smack.

"Good.  Time for your plug."

He showed me the metal plug, only this one was ever so slightly different.  As he
moved it, I heard a noise, like a steel ball rolling back and forth inside the bullet.
I also saw that it was slightly larger than the plug he'd used before.

"Yes, I got a new one for you.  I thought it would keep you on your toes and keep
you from ever forgetting what you are.  It's called a Rattler (http://www.mr-s-
leather.com/D265/rattler-butt-plug.html).  And yes, everyone's going to hear it,
but most of them won't know what's making the noise.  That'll be part of the fun,
don't you think faggot?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

He lubed the plug and shoved it in.  I bore down, so as to open my sphincter.  I'd
learned that much at any rate.  Something's headed up your ass, push down to
open yourself up.  No point in resisting.  As it says in the movie, resistance is
futile.  And it only makes the entry more painful.  By now, I was becoming used
to having my hole stretched, so the plug slid in without too much burn.

"Pull it in boi," Master said, smacking my butt.

I clenched and felt the base pull against my hole.  The weight felt good; felt right.
Yes, I was being turned into a true faggot.  I wanted this fullness, this weight
inside me.  It wasn't as good as Master's cock; it was different, and I knew that
Master couldn't keep his cock in me 24/7, so the plug was the answer for now.

"Alright boi, let go of the handles and turn around."

I did as ordered.

"Spread your feet; fit them to the tiles and grab the handles over your head.  I
need to inspect my faggot."

Again, I did as ordered.

Master ran his hands over my pits, feeling for stray hairs, then down to my chesg
and lastly to my crotch and between my legs.

"Good.  Nice and smooth, the way a faggot should be.  I want to be sure you're
clean.  Now wait here."

Master turned to the cabinet and pulled out a plastic bottle.  He flipped open the
cap and squirted what looked like lotion into his hand.  Was he going to jerk me
off?  My penis throbbed in expectation.  Oh please, please jerk your faggot off
Master!  But rather than putting the lotion on my cock, he spread it over my
crotch, where my pubes would've been.  Then he coated my balls and finally, my
penis.  He finished and washed his hands, looking at his watch.

"OK, turn back to the wall.  Fifteen minutes.  I'll be back boi.  And you'd better
think about something else so that that dickie goes down, or it's going to make
the next step that much more difficult," he said, slapping my penis from below,
making it smack up against my abdomen.

I waited, and while I waited, in my mind, I replayed the slideshow I'd been
forced to watch while immobilized in Master's closet.  My penis remained hard.
I realized I'd better think of something else, as Master had ordered.  I had no idea
what the "next step" was, but I knew enough to believe whatever he told me.
After all, he owned me now and, although I'd never trust him, or at least I didn't
think I would, I could trust his word  when he gave me an order.  I trusted his
word to convey to me what I needed to do or to know that I'd pay a price for
disobedience.  But what else could I think about, standing here spread-eagle,
naked, something that was beginning to burn slightly coating my privates... no,
not my privates; no longer my privates.  That all belonged to Master now and it
was his to do with as he chose.

My realization of my utter humiliation, paradoxically, only made my dick harder.
It surged upward, seeking a touch to give it release.  Yes, I might have let go of
the handles and jacked myself off, but I knew, as surely as I knew anything, that
Master would take it out on me with a vengeance and the pleasure of the orgasm
would be quickly overidden by the pain it would bring, as surely as the monarch
butterflies migrate to Mexico.  So I tried to think of something else.  I could hear
the business channel broadcasting on the monitor in Master's office, so I decided
to focus on the financial news and, after a couple of fitful detours back into sex, I
was able to keep money on my mind and my dick began to soften.

I heard Master greeting someone and he and his guest moved toward the
bathroom.  I wasn't surprised, but I felt a hollowness in my belly, knowing that
whatever he was going to do, it would mean more humiliation and degradation
for this cock-sucker.

Master entered the room, trailed by a man with tattoos and piercings; he just
looked rough.

"This is Vinnie, cocksucker.  You will call him "sir" just like you do every man.
He's here to get you kitted out so that I don't have to worry about you playing
with that faggot dick, since it belongs to me, along with the rest of you."

Vinnie came over and smacked my ass.

"Turn around faggot," he ordered.

I did as I was told.  That earned me a swift upward slap to my dick.

"I didn't hear you faggot," Vinnie barked.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," I shouted, realizing my mistake.

"Now, let's wipe you down," Vinnie said, taking a damp towel and wiping my
groin.

Because I'd shaved, there wasn't any hair there, so I was wondering why Master
had put the lotion on, realizing it was a dipilatory from the burn.

"In case you're wondering cock-sucker," Master said, reading my mind, "That
was a permanent depilatory.  It's specially formulated to kill the hair follicles.
It'll take a few applications to get all of them, but in about a month, you'll be
completely smooth from the neck down.  I only did your crotch this morning,
because Vinnie was on his way.  I'll apply it to the rest of you when he's
installed the cage.  And you should be glad I don't do your head as well faggot."

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

My mind was bouncing from incredulity to questions to dread.  What did
"install" mean?  What did Master mean when he said he was going to make me
permanently smooth?  I'm a man!  I'm supposed to have body hair, not be
smooth like a little boy.  My turmoil must've shown on my face (I was never
very good at hiding my feelings – maybe that's one of the reasons Master found
me out!)  Master grabbed my face and looked into my eyes.

"If you're thinking that you're a man, and this shouldn't be happening to you,
you need to get this straight right now!  You are not a man; you're a faggot cock-
sucker.  Do you understand?  You surrendered your pretense at being a man
when you stole from the company... You never were much of a man anyway,
from what Elaine's told me.  Just think of it as coming to understand your true
nature and becoming what you were always meant to be: a faggot whose purpose
is to serve and please men."

"Yes sir," I whispered, dropping my eyes in shame and humiliation.  The added
humiliation of the realization that my wife had exposed my inadequacies to him
made it even worse.  And, oh god, was he fucking her too?  That would give him
a laugh – to be fucking both the cuckolded husband and his wife.  Master
smacked my butt.

"Get over to the conference table and lie on your back.  There's a towel there; lay
on that."

"Yes sir."  I did as he ordered.  What else was I going to do?

As I lay down on the table, I noticed Master's laptop sitting next to me, it's
webcam focused on where my groin was now situated.  Master had placed
another laptop next to my head so that I could view my crotch and witness
whatever was going to be done to me.  Vinnie placed a leather satchel on the
table next to me and pulled out seveal pieces of what looked to be plastic-coated
heavy wire and some tools.

"Now, let's get this on your cock-sucker," Vinnie said to Master, not even
bothering to look at me or address me.

He took a circular band about and inch-and-a-half in diameter.  He took hold of
my ball sac and pushed one ball through the ring.  Then he pushed my other ball
through.  Obviously, there was less room for the second gonad, so it was a little
more difficult.  But obviously, Vinnie wasn't concerned about anything but
getting the job done.  I gritted my teeth, but couldn't stifle the groan and he
squeezed my balls to get both encircled by the ring.  Then he took a piece that
looked something like a yoke, arched at the top, but with curved flanges about
3/8" wide  at the ends.  There was a band across the bottom of the arch, joining
the two sides of the arch.  He pulled my dick through the portal.  The yoke fit
perfectly against the ball ring.  Next, he took a small electric screw-driver and
screwed a screw flanges of the yoke and into the ball ring. fastening  the two
together.  He tested the fit, ensuring that it wouldn't slip off and then ran the
screwdriver an extra amount of time on each side.

"I've stripped the heads of the screws so that they can't be unscrewed.  The only
way to get this off will be to cut it off now."

"Good," Master said.

My dick was now framed by the curve of the yoke above it, which was held in
place by the band around my balls.  I was beginning to understand, but I hadn't
seen the rest of the cage yet to get the full impact of what Master was doing to
me.  Vinnie picked up a cage that consisted of two arches fastened to a bracket at
the top.  There were cross-bars joining the sides of each arch.  He placed this
over my balls, making sure they were well-inside of the cage.  Then he screwed
the cage to the cross-bar of the yoke through which he'd pulled my penis.  Again,
he stripped the screw heads.

"There," he said.  "Next bit."

He took a metal half-ring, pulled my penis down and placed the half-ring over it.
This he fastened to the cross-bar in front of my balls, pinning down my penis.

"Say goodbye to your dick faggot.  At least as far as being able to use it is
concerned," Master smirked, clearly enjoying the process.

Vinnie picked up the front of the cage, which he fit over my dick.  It was rather
like a jock cup, but with heavy gauge wires rather than plastic.  He screwed this
to the top of the yoke with four screws, stripping the head on each, and lastly,
screwed it to the bottom cage.

"Nice Vinnie.  Just like you said.  How much?" Master smiled.

"$500.  No tax," Vinnie laughed loudly.

"Great," Master said.  "Worth every cent.  Look at this faggot.  Just the way he
should be: hairless and permanently caged.  Pretty soon, he'll forget what that
thing between his legs is intended for."

"Just don't forget to milk him regularly," Vinnie said.  "You don't want him to
have problems and need to start over again."

"Definitely.  I'll milk him this afternoon.  By my count, it's been a week since he
came last.

Inwardly, I groaned.  As long as Master owned me, I'd never have another
orgasm.  And I'd remain hairless like a boy.

To be continued