Master Eddie
I had been a slave for five years now. There is no escape. I had been enslaved for a serious crime and I was made a slave for life.
Master Eddie was only a kid when I was tagged, chipped and became his parents’ household slave. He was the youngest and the family favourite. From the day I arrived, he asked questions about what he was allowed to do to me. Eddie always tried to be around when I had to clean his room. He would leave the worst mess possible. If there was no one else around, he would make me strip and wear his worst dirty underpants over my head or suck on his crusty football socks, jockstraps or cum-rags while I worked - and he watched and laughed. He didn’t dare to beat me, but he managed the odd face-slap and even an occasional kick in the balls.
Eddie also took an interest in canes and whips and loved looking on the internet for every kind of story about the torture and humiliation of slaves. I know because he delighted in showing me things that he said would one day happen to me.
At 18, he was slim, over six feet with a mop of dark brown hair, smooth-chested, quite muscular, and with a face that was as handsome as a Greek God. His beautiful mouth became a frightening sneer when he told me “I know what I’m going to do with you when I get the chance – you’re a criminal slave – I'm going to do what the fuck I like to you. I’ve got my soft Dad, who never even beats you, to give you to me for my 18th birthday. Me and Chris are going to make you suffer ...”
Eddie’s little blond friend Chris was much worse. If he was visiting and the adults were out , he would piss on the floor in the bathroom and make me go in with him and lick it up, while he and Edie watched. I think it was Chris who guided Eddie on to the worst websites.
On his 18th birthday a few weeks later, I was given to Eddie. His mother thought it was a bit risky but his Dad shrugged: “If he kills him, so what?”. They had two other slaves anyway, who had helped Eddie and his friend Chris convert the big outhouse into a dungeon. “God help anyone Eddie drags in there”, said his Dad.
Master Eddie waited in the small ante-room at the entrance of the outhouse. He was holding handcuffs. “Strip naked”, he sneered. “You’re going to get what you deserve”.
Naked and handcuffed, Eddie grabbed my dick, twisted it painfully, and dragged me by it, still twisted and now with Eddie’s fingernails digging into it. We entered the dungeon. I was close to fainting. Everything smelt new but looked terrifying. In the centre, a spanking bench. Along the walls, spanking implements, canes and whips, paddles and prison-straps. There was a group of terrifying small martinets, and I guessed where they would be used. Electric batteries attached to sharp-toothed alligator clips, dildoes of all sizes and what I could only make out as a whole sexual torture section. There was also a big yellow hook attached by chains to the ceiling which looked like a hoist you might see for lifting concrete blocks. There was more, much more. “Sit down, slave”. Master Eddie pointed to a metal chair with straps to keep me from moving. It was hard and uncomfortable but Eddie made it worse. He attached my ankles to the spread front legs, making my cock and balls protrude obscenely and he attached my cuffs behind to the back of the chair.
Master Eddie sat in front of me in a comfortable armchair and smiled at me. “This is the first time I’ve seen you naked, slave. You’re a criminal slave and you deserve to be beaten naked all the time.
“Even the young couple in the house opposite beat their criminal slave naked, in front of their kids as an example, almost every day – his ass, thighs, calves and shoulders are always a fucking mess – sometimes, if he’s done something more wrong than usual, he can hardly walk. I guess you’ve heard his screams. They’ve got the right idea.”
Master Eddie by now could hardly keep a straight face. He was enjoying himself and his new power and I could see the stirring in his shorts. He talked on in his calm way: “You’ve had it so fucking easy. Serving meals, sweeping floors, mowing lawns. That stuff is for the ordinary slaves. You’re a criminal slave. Now you’re now under my total control and you’ll get what you’ve always needed. Punishment, torture and humiliation ... “
“Please, Master”, I eventually managed to say. “Please don’t do this. I’ll serve you – you're my Master ... ”.
Master Eddie got up from his chair and simply grabbed the shaft of my flaccid dick. He pulled it hard and right up so the tip was level with my navel. I screamed – I tried to beg him to stop but the pain made me incoherent. Then he twisted it at least one and a half full turns – it was like he was trying to unscrew my dick from my body. Finally, fully twisted, and with an unbreakable hold on my shaft, he smacked my sensitive tip at least a dozen times.
When he finally let go, he raised his voice a little and told me “The only begging you’re allowed to do in this place – and you’re not going to leave this dungeon for a long time – is to beg for more, harder, and more painful - ‘thank you Masters, I am a criminal slave, please beat me harder’ - stuff like that. You will accept that what we give you is never as bad as what you deserve – and what we give you”, he added with a chuckle, “will be fucking painful and fucking disgusting.”
“By the way, your punishment for that bit of pleading will be 25 strokes of the cane. Next time it’ll be 50. Chris will be here in a minute and we’ll give you the 25 together. You’ll get 5 of the 25 on your dick to keep the pain from the twisting as bad as possible.
“And from today, you’ll be a toilet. Chris’s family’s criminal slave had to drink all the family’s piss and eat all the family’s shit from day one. Even the young kids’ piss and shit. Now, if Chris or me wants a shit, you’ll eat the whole fucking lot of it – and we’ll piss into your mouth. My Dad should have made you lick our house toilets but my soft parents gave you a cloth. All fucking criminal slaves like you should be toilets. Chris says his shit really stinks – I can’t wait to hear you begging him for it, and you will definitely beg, and I can’t wait to watch you eating it and telling Chris how delicious it is ... Chris says that the first time a slave is made to eat shit is the best because the humiliation is so bad and the taste is even worse than they imagined. You’ll never get used to eating shit, he says, so you’re going to do it again and again and again ...”
I pissed myself. I sat tied to that metal chair and was so terrified that I pissed myself. It ran down my thighs and legs, over the chair and formed a puddle on the floor.
Then Chris came in, a slight blond boy, a bit older than Eddie, possibly 19. “Fucking hell! What a disgusting slave!” Turning to me: “We’re going to attach you by the balls to that ring on the floor and you’re going to lick up every drop off the chair and the floor. We’ll attach you with bungee-rope so fucking short that you’ll have to almost pull off your balls while you work. A drop left means a caning.” Eddie chimed in “He’s already got 25 strokes, 5 of them on his dick, for pleading.” “You’re learning a fucking lesson”, Chris exclaimed, “aren’t you slave, and you’ve only been here 5 minutes.” They both laughed.
They put on gloves so they didn’t touch any of my smelly piss, and they pulled me off my chair. Chris ordered me to stand with my legs spread above a ring about a yard from the piss which was still dripping from the chair on to the hard floor. He wound some rope above my balls until they were tight at the end of my sack, and then he attached one hook on the left side of my balls, threaded the bungee through the ring, and then attached other hook to the right of my balls – when he did the right he pinched my ball-sack hard, deliberately I think, and I shrieked. Chris certainly didn’t care about my shrieks and he soon had me tied up. “Start licking, slave”, he said.
I was forced to hurt my own balls just to reach the near edge of the piss puddle. “Do it, you fucking slave – no one cares if you pull your balls off – lick up every fucking drop or I’ll cut them off for you – you'll still have to lick it up but you won’t have any balls.” Eddie just looked at Chris in admiration - “You know how to handle a fucking criminal slave who’s had it too easy”, said Eddie.
Somehow, after about 20 minutes, I had licked up all my piss from the chair and the floor. My balls were tortured and swollen. They ached terribly, and my ball-sack was torn where Chris and Eddie had taken turns to ‘encourage’ me by poking my balls with a sharp and splintery cane that had been snapped in two.
“Shall we cane him now?”, asked Eddie. “Yeah, normally I’d give him his first caning on the bench, but you’ve promised him five on his dick, so we’ll attach him to the hoist. In that position, we can easily cane him on his ass and his dick.
“I think we should use the reformatory cane – it'll be fucking painful, especially on his dick, and he can think about what the bigger canes, like the Singapore rattan cane, are going to be like”. Turning to me, Eddie smirked: “You’re going to be caned every day from now on, criminal slave ... ”
The hoist was directly above the ring, so they left my balls attached to the ring. Then Chris ordered me to stand up “so I can attach you as wide as possible to this nice leg-spreader". But standing up straight was impossible with my balls attached to that horrible ring. I forced myself painfully into a squatting position. Torturing my own balls, I stood as straight as possible, collapsing on to my knees painfully hard while Chris attached the spreader. That made them laugh as Eddie gave each knee a firm kick with his big boots.
Chris asked Eddie to lower the hoist. Eddie pressed a button and the big yellow hook on the end of a thick chain descended towards me. It looked like it could have lifted a car. Chris handcuffed me and then attached my handcuffs to the hook. Then he told Eddie to lift the hook a few inches. I was pulled off my knees into a squatting position. My hands were dragged up behind my back and I was still attached by the stretched bungee between my balls and the ring on the floor. “Another six inches, mate”, said Chris. “No - no – Masters – please". I felt an unbearable strain on my arms and shoulders as my handcuffed wrists were forced up towards my neck. But it was nothing compared with the pain in my balls as the bungee stretched even beyond the furthest I had pulled it to reach the far end of my piss-puddle. The bungee was crushing my balls. The boys were having fun. “That’s about right”, said Chris.
“Looks like it’s got a choice – I think it’s an ‘it’ now, not a ‘him’ - If it moves during its caning, it’ll either dislocate its shoulders or turn its own balls into mush.” Then he turned to me. He was shorter and slimmer than me but he seemed to tower over me in my miserable squatting position. “We’re going to keep you in that torture-posture while we cane you. It makes your ass stick out nicely which will make the strokes more painful. You’re getting 20 on your ass and 5 on your dick from Master Eddie for pleading and 20 on your ass and 5 on your balls (that’ll be fun the way they must be hurting right now) from me for pissing yourself. As I said, you’d better stay still while we cane you or you’ll do yourself a very painful and lasting injury!”
Chris lowered himself in front of my face, spat a couple of times, and said: “Beg for your punishment, criminal slave. Beg for us to be fucking cruel or we’ll double what you’re getting.”
In agony, in that stretched-out squat, I realised I had to beg convincingly just to survive - “I beg you, Masters, cane me hard, make me scream, torture me and show me no mercy. I’m a pathetic criminal slave who hasn’t learnt its lesson. I’ll stay still for my caning, Masters. I’m learning my lesson from you, Masters ...” I tailed off.
“After we’ve caned you, we’ll give you something to eat, criminal slave”, said Eddie. “What do you think we should give you?” I knew with certainty, with horror, what I had to say now. “Shit, Master Eddie: please feed me your and Master Chris’s shit.” They both laughed at that, and high-fived, while I wept, but weeping did me no good, because Eddie took up a vicious-looking cane. They wanted the weeping to turn to screaming and it very soon did.
With me in that torturing squatting position, unable to move a muscle, Eddie caned me hard. It was the first time he’d caned anyone and he used his strength. His twenty strokes left searing lines of fire across both buttocks and the tops of both thighs, and he managed to get a few into my crack which had been pulled open by the wide leg spreader. His inexperience also meant that quite a few strokes flew around my sides and hit my hip-bones, another level of agony. I sweated and panted and screamed incoherently.
Then it was time for the five on my dick, also to be administered by Eddie. Chris found a pair of thin tongs which allowed him to grab any part of my poor dick. Eddie had recently twisted and stretched it. Now Chris grabbed the tip, crushing it painfully with his tongs and stretching my dick out in front of me as far as it would go. Eddie lifted his cane. If had had any more piss, I would have pissed myself again at that moment. As it was, I farted loudly. “Double it to ten for that”, said Chris calmly.
Eight times Eddie caned the shaft of my dick. The pain was explosive, much worse even than my ass-caning. The first five were on the top of my dick and the next three on the extra-sensitive underside – Chris simply twisted it over for Eddie to cane the underside. Eddie smiled while he caned and obviously enjoyed his work! “You know what’s coming next, don’t you, criminal slave. Where should Master Eddie put his last two cane-strokes?” I hesitated only for a moment. My voice was hoarse from screaming from the sadistic 18 year-old's muscular caning. I croaked out “Please cane the tip of my dick, Master Eddie”. "Hard or with mercy, criminal slave?" "Hard, Master".
Chris shifted the tongs so my poor glans stuck out in front of me. It was so vulnerable. Eddie took aim. He gave the two strokes in quick succession. The first slammed into the meat of my glans – the pain was severe and all-embracing, like a strong electric shock. The second smashed my pisshole, making it bleed. “Disgusting bitch”, said Chris unsympathetically as a couple of drops of blood fell on the floor. I thought I would pass out as I went dizzy for a few seconds, but then the pain hit me. It was so extreme, the worst pain yet. “It’ll have fun pissing after that one”, laughed Chris.
They left me in that position for the best part of an hour. My bent knees cramped, my ass was exploding with pain, my dick felt like it had been completely destroyed, my shoulders were wrenching and my balls were continuously tortured by the short bungee rope attaching them to the ring on the floor.
When Eddie and Chris came back, they’d obviously had something to eat and drink. Chris had a bottle of vodka in his hands: “This is for us, but I thought I’d rub a bit on your ass and dick, especially on the bloody bits – alcoholic antiseptic – what do you think about that idea, criminal slave? Want a bit up your sore little pisshole?” I thought of begging them to stop but then I thought of the likely consequences – I managed to say “Good idea, Master Chris. Please rub in the vodka to give me extra pain. I deserve it”. They laughed and Eddie added “Then Chris is going to fucking cane your ass and balls, and then you’re going to fucking eat our shit”. Eddie was clearly a bit drunk.
Chris, on the other hand, was all business as he picked up his cane. Then he stood in front of me, and faced away from me. His ass was level with my face in my squatting position. He lowered his jeans and boxers and ripped a huge stinking fart in my face. “Inhale it, slave – think about what’s coming after I’ve caned your ass and balls ...”
