It was a long night. Master Chris’s disgusting turd really did stink out my windowless toilet-prison and I couldn’t get used to it. Sleeping in handcuffs naked on a bare concrete floor was nearly impossible. I spent the long night in pain, utterly miserable, and terrified of what was to come.
My two teenage masters unlocked the toilet door in the morning, letting in some light from the dungeon. They were both wearing shorts. They marched in and, without speaking, simply opened their flies and pissed on me. Master Eddie concentrated on my face and mouth – the teenager calmly took his morning piss on my face. Master Chris pissed on my naked genitals.
“Five fucking days of torturing you, starting with being pissed on”, said Master Eddie with a smile. “A bit different from your old life, isn’t it, criminal slave!” "Lick up our piss", ordered Master Chris. I licked and sucked up their piss off the concrete, shaking with the fear of what lay in store for me.
“Today it’s mostly clamping,” said Master Chris. “Tomorrow, it’s the canes, martinets and sounds. Day three is ball-torture and a nasty whip I want to use on you. Day four is more caning and burning, including your asshole and dick. Day five can be a surprise”. “A fucking painful surprise, criminal slave”, added Master Eddie.
Then Master Chris lowered his jeans and squatted over the bowl, adding a new stinking turd to the one I’d spent the night with. “Face-up and lick my ass clean, slave”, he ordered, as he sat down on my face. “We’re going to turn the heat up in here a bit so you can watch and smell my shit rot in that bowl over the next couple of weeks. Then you’re going to eat it all – look forward to that meal, slave!”
They tied me up and jet-washed me, focussing on my swollen balls, and then pulled me with a rope attached to my penis to a muddy outside drain, my “slave-toilet”. Master Eddie watched over me: “filthy animal” was his only comment as he made me bend over afterwards and forced a garden hose with freezing water into the top of my asshole. It painfully re-opened the caning cuts from the day before, but he definitely didn’t care about that.
“Crawl over here”, shouted Master Chris from a corner of the garden which we all knew was well used by the dogs. “I’ve got a nice criminal-slave breakfast for you”. He was holding a plastic box marked “Punish your slave with these Slave-Lumps – antibiotic and nutritious, but the slave will hate them!” He emptied five of them on to the ground – a couple fell on to some very old dried-up dog shit - “leave those till last”, he said.
The colour of slave-lumps varies from beige to black and each one is a mouthful roughly the size of large sweet. They are hard on the outside and quite flavourless when you put them in your mouth but, when you bite into them, that changes completely. The inside of a slave-lump depends on the punishment level. The slave-lumps I had to eat now, I later discovered, were not even the worst. But at that time I couldn’t imagine anything worse. After I bit through the outer shell, a vile paste burst out and coated the entire inside of my mouth. It was the paste which had the terrible taste of rotting garbage, and at the same time burnt the mouth, like a hot rotted chilli that had been marinated in shit. The paste itself contained pieces of slime which cling to the inside of the slave’s mouth, making it difficult to swallow and almost impossible to get rid of the taste for hours.
By the end of the first lump, I felt very sick. “Puke any of them up”, warned Master Eddie, “and you’ll eat the puke and five more lumps. Most slaves are only punished with slave-lumps for a few days, a week at most. Apart from our piss, shit and puke, these will be your entire diet for the foreseeable future. Be miserable, criminal slave!"
“You can eat that bit of dog-shit with the last one, because you haven’t thanked us for your meal”, said Master Chris. My teenage masters smirked as I said as clearly as I could with my mouth filled with that cruel vile taste: “Thank you, Masters, for giving me the meals I deserve, slave-lumps plus your shit and puke.”
As I desperately swallowed the dried-up dog-turd as quickly as possible, Master Chris commented, “I don’t think our slave is going to look forward to its meals from now on”, and they both laughed out loud.
Then Master Chris pointed to a dirty-looking plastic bowl full of water, spat in it, picked his nose and dropped a nasty-looking boogey into it, and ordered me to drink it all. Master Eddie spat into it too. “You need to ne hydrated for your torture, slave”. I was thirsty but lapping up water from a bowl on the floor, including the masters' spit and snot, was still unpleasant. I did manage to finish it but only with a few hard kicks from both masters along the way.
After my punishment food and drink, Master Eddie dragged me back into the torture-dungeon by my penis-rope. He held the rope deliberately high so my dick was stretched painfully upwards. Meanwhile, Master Chris walked behind me with a small cane, beating me over yesterday’s welts.
“Up on the torture table”, came the next order. “Face up”.
They were all business as they attached my wrists and ankles to the corners of the table. I noticed that there were ratchets for stretching me, but for the moment they were apparently not planning to torture me on the rack.
As usual, Master Chris explained – it was clear that going through the tortures he and Master Eddie were about to practise on me turned him on - “Well, criminal slave, you’re going to experience some very serious and well-deserved pain today. We’re going to apply lots of different clamps to different parts of your body – we've got small sharp-toothed alligator clamps which are tightly sprung enough to penetrate your skin and make you bleed – we've got skin-crushing surgical clamps – we've got little stationery clips which sound innocent but, believe me, they bite when applied to sensitive places – and we’ve got good strong clothespegs for putting all over your face and causing you pain there. I doubt you’ll stop screaming when they’re all attached to your naked body but, if you do, don't worry, we’ll play with them and move them around to keep you alert and in the worst possible pain ... fun for us!”
I thought Master Chris had finished. Master Eddie saw I was shaking. He spat in my face and laughed – “Master Chris hasn’t finished yet, slave – you won’t like what’s coming”.
“We’ve decided to prepare you for your clamping too – after all, you’re a criminal slave and we want things to hurt as much as possible. So we’re going to sandpaper your nipples and dick until they bleed. Then, when we put on the clamps – well – you know those little seeds and pith you get with chillis that makes them extra-hot – we’ve got our domestic slave to grind them into a super-hot powder which we're going to mix with burning athletic cream and rub in where your skin’s broken – your naked tortured body is going to suffer so much when the clamps are torturing it and that mixture's rubbed into it! Your dick and tits will take days to recover. Oh, and Master Eddie's going to rip out your pubes and armpit hairs - imagine how the surgical clamps will feel on the exposed skin!
“Then we’ll clamp the rest of your whole nasty fucking slave-body. And by the way we haven’t forgotten about your swollen balls – Master Eddie’s got a big heavy vice for them!
“Beg for your torture, slave”, Master Chris ordered, “and we’ll get started”. “Don’t forget your balls when you beg”, added Master Eddie as he heaved something heavy on to a nearby table.
“Masters, I have had an easy time and I’m so grateful for your punishments, especially ripping out my pubes and crushing my swollen balls. Sandpapering my dick and nipples is such a great idea – please don’t go easy on me ...” and my voice broke and I couldn’t say any more.
“Let’s just start”, said Master Chris. “You’ll get a kicking later for stopping half-way, slave”. “Teenage kicks”, said Master Eddie as he waved a piece of nasty-looking sandpaper in my face, and they both laughed. “Heavy-duty, just for you ...”, said Master Chris.
The sadistic enjoyment that my punishments were giving my two teen masters was obvious as Master Chris started sandpapering my left nipple and Master Eddie started pulling out my pubes.
The sandpapering of my nipples didn’t hurt much at the beginning – nipples are tough - but the pain soon built. Master Chris sandpapered each nipple a few times pressing down hard; then he stopped and grabbed the nipples together, digging his nails in and twisting; then it was back to the sandpapering, and so on. By the third sandpapering, both my nipples were red and raw, but he carried on just as vigorously; even when they started to bleed slightly, Master Chris decided they still needed more ‘preparation’ as he manoeuvred the corners of his industrial sandpaper around the edges of my nipples, where the nubs meet the darker skin around. He made the whole area red and puffy – and a hundred times more sensitive than normal nipples. Master Chris effectively removed in the most painful way possible virtually all the protective outer skin from the nubs of both nipples – the raw under-skin, red and oozing blood and damp with serous fluid, was ready for the clamping which would now be incredibly painful.
Meanwhile Master Eddie was pulling out my pubes a few at a time. His method, for maximising my pain, was to pull the hairs straight until the roots resisted and then, instead of just yanking them out, pulling them slowly out through my skin. Although the pain wasn’t as bad as the sandpapering of my nipples, it still hurt a lot, sometimes making me yelp, which made Master Eddie giggle. Having your pubes slowly extracted by a teenager felt at least as humiliating as anything done to me till now. There was something so degrading about it, as Master Eddie pulled out my pubes leaving them in a small pile at the side of the torture table.
It was during these punishments that I realised that the boys were enjoying each other while they were enjoying torturing me. The bulges in their shorts were highly visible, and I saw that they touched each other a good deal. This was new. At one point, when I screamed really loudly when Master Chris twisted my injured left nipple, he gently guided one of Master Eddie’s hands on to my right nipple, and they kissed lightly, giggled and then gleefully twisted and tore at the nipples in their hands. They were really enjoying a new sadistic sexual freedom. They kissed harder with their tongues. I could feel their excitement and I could hear their loud slurping, as they twisted harder. My torture would be sexual fun for my teenage masters. I was very scared.
“What are we going to do with that pile of its pubes?” asked Master Eddie pointing at the pile of my hairs at the side of the torture table. “Pour them over my shit in his toilet-cell", Chris explained - “They’ll make the shit harder for it to swallow so it’ll have to chew it and taste it for longer”. As Master Eddie cupped my pubes and carried them off to put in my shit-meal, Master Chris looked down at me “Now, it’s time to prepare the criminal slave’s penis”, and he picked up a small wire brush.
A teenage master scraping the skin of your dick with a wire brush, which was meant for scraping metal, was a new kind of torture all by itself. This ‘preparation’ of my penis for worse tortures to come involved slowly working up from the root to the piss-hole with that hard brush with unyielding metal spikes. Master Chris rubbed it up hard, up and down my penis, left to right across both sides at each of a dozen stages as he worked his way op my shaft. Very soon it became obvious that I couldn’t hold still. I writhed in the pain of the assault on every square inch of my dick, twisting my body with the little freedom I had to move, so Master Eddie pushed hard down where my pubes had been and on my balls, keeping me still while Master Chris scraped my dick. He scraped and scratched everywhere, taking extra time with the delicate under-side of my dick. The very worst was not, as I had expected, the piss-hole, although that was very painful and I shrieked as my masters took it in turns, while the other kept me still, to move the sharp metal points up and down my slit. Nor was the worst the assault on the glans itself, although that was truly horrible. No, the very worst was in fact the detailed attention Master Chris gave to the ridge on my dick where the glans meets the shaft. He attacked this tiny circle of super-sensitive skin until it started to bleed in several places and all of it was completely raw. “That will be a nice sore ridge for some small tough punishment clamps – you won’t enjoy them much”, said Master Chris in his matter-of-fact way.
“It’s break-time for us now”, said Master Eddie when my dick was 'prepared', and added unnecessarily “You wait for us here – clamping time when we get back – think about what we’re going to do to you, criminal slave”.
When my teen masters came back into the dungeon half an hour later, I was shaking and sweating with fear and dread. I knew that the pain they would inflict on my naked tied-up body would be unbearable, but I also knew I had no choice. I was tied and stretched and completely at their mercy. It was Master Eddie this time who started in their usual way, by involving me in my own torture.
“What do you deserve to happen now, criminal slave”.
“I deserve to be clamped, Master Eddie,”
“Why?”
“Because I had life too easy before you became my Master”.
“What kind of clamping do you deserve, slave?”
“I deserve a very severe and painful clamping, Master.”
“Beg hard and convince me, slave”
“Please, Masters, clamp every part of my body, especially the bits which you’ve prepared, my nipples and my dick and where you’ve torn out my pubes. Please cause me extra pain in those areas, Masters.”
“What about this fucking heavy vice, I’ve brought in specially, slave?” Master Eddie held up a terrifying industrial metal vice.
“Please put my swollen balls in that vice, Master.”
“And then what should I do, slave?”
I hesitated – I couldn’t think what he wanted me to say - “You’ll get an extra caning later for not answering, fucking slave – I'm still waiting”.
“Please tighten the vice, Master.”
“I’m going to tighten that torturing vice millimetre by millimetre until your nasty swollen-up fucking balls are like fucking little pancakes, you slave-cunt – and I’m going to leave them like that for an extra hour because you didn’t get the right answer ...”
“I’m so sorry, Master, I ...”. Master Eddie punched me in the mouth. I immediately tasted some blood. “Shut the fuck up, criminal slave.”
“Punishment time”, said Master Chris.
