Enslaved on Vacation, Chapter 9 (Gay, authoritarian)
"That was fucking hilarious," Master Drew said with a bellowing laugh. "You should have seen yourself, fucking hopping away from that maid bitch. You looked so ridiculous. That might have been the funniest thing I have ever friggin seen." Drew patted my head and tussled my hair like a dog. "You did real good, bitch."
I lit up with a glow at Master's touch and compliment. It is embarrassing how much this little thing could excite me. "Thank you, Master."
"That was so great I think I will even lessen what I had planned for your fifth ordeal." As I knelt in the middle of the living room, Drew walked to the fridge and got himself a can of Coke as he spoke. "For the fifth challenge, I want you to prove that you are willing to physically work hard, work your fucking ass off even, in order to earn the right to serve my cock." Drew had plopped back down on the couch, and he suggestively rubbed his package through his baby blue nylon shorts to tease me. "So I figured making you do a thousand push-ups would be a reasonable test. But since I am so fucking generous right now, and since you have pleased me so far, I will cut it down to 500. But you better have good form or I will make it worse. Now get started, faggot...right here in front of me where I can watch. Count `em out."
I got into position in front of Drew's couch and started pumping push-ups. I knew this was going to be beyond awful. My arms already were pretty sore from doing 200 push-ups earlier, and another 500 would certainly ruin me. Like I have said, I am in really good shape...I have done a hell of a lot of push-ups with the soccer team in my day, but rarely more than 150 or so in a day.
By the time I got halfway through this set, my arms felt like Jello. I was having to take a lot of breaks. What made it even worse was seeing my young Master sitting lazily on the sofa above me, sprawled out comfortably, his feet propped up on a pillow as he flipped through the channels. The buzz of MTV and Sportscenter highlights flickered in my ears, occasionally interrupted by Drew barking at me to speed up.
When I got to around 400, I was REALLY struggling. My pace had slowed to a creep, and Drew was eating up my suffering. He got up off the couch and started to circle me, taunting relentlessly. "What's the matter, fag? Hairless little boy isn't even man enough to do some push-ups for his master?" He lightly kicked me in the ribs a few times, adding to the incentive. At the 430 mark, he had his foot under my crotch and was teasing my cock head with his toes as I continued to struggle. He continued this for a while, torturing me with a mixture of pleasure and an intense need to cum. After I had done 475, he stopped and came around in front of me, sticking his right foot right in my face.
"Your bitch cock leaked drool all over my foot. I suggest you do something about it, you fucking cunt." At that, I was forced to lick my own pre-cum off of Master Drew's feet. Despite all my agony, I was really falling in love with his beautiful feet. I have never really thought I had a foot fetish, but there was something about the silky smooth, beautifully tanned skin on this boy's feet that made me melt. Still, the taste (and idea) of eating my own pre-cum was not particularly pleasant, and I struggled to get it down. Drew announced that for the final 25 push-ups, I would have to kiss both of his feet every time I went down. It took me several minutes to get through these, and when I finally did, I collapsed in a heap of worthlessness on the floor.
I literally didn't think I could move. Never before had I experienced such an overload workout. My arms felt like they could use some Ben Gay, but I didn't dare even make a mention of that god awful substance. I think I may have momentarily passed out, or at least zoned out, on the floor, but I was brought back to reality by a tug on my collar. Drew had me by the neck and was pulling me to my feet.
"Get up, you lazy sack of shit. This isn't a fucking day spa," he quipped with his famous smirk.
I staggered to my feet, trying to shake some feeling back into my gelatinous arms. Master Drew circled me, as if performing some sort of rough inspection. "You worked up quite a sweat, bitch. And you smell fucking terrible. You should be ashamed of yourself for stinking up my fucking condo."
"I am sorry Master," I managed.
"Damn right you are. But you are in luck. Your sixth ordeal lets you take a shower. A really fun shower."
I had heard of "golden showers," and figured this meant he would probably be pissing on me. But I soon learned that this was not what was in store. Drew went into the other room and soon came back with a small bucket, almost like a small pail that little kids use on the beach for building sand castles only a little bigger. He then went to his supplies area and retrieved some thin rope. "Spread your legs apart and put your hands on your head, cumbreath."
I was puzzled by all of this, but (obviously) complied.
Master knelt down before me (which seemed like a nice change) and started tying the rope around my nutsack (NOT a nice change). He wound the rope around and around, more times than I could keep track of, and tied a few knots. He then tied the end of the rope to the handle of the small bucket. My balls were now bound and being stretched and weighted down. I didn't like where this was going.
"Get your fucking ass in the bathroom, fag," I was quickly ordered.
Within seconds, I was situated in the shower. "Now since you have been such a dirty boy, prancing around naked outside and in public restrooms, and then sweating like a pig in my living room, your sixth ordeal is a fifteen-minute shower to clean you up. A fifteen-minute ice cold shower, that is. You will stand there with your legs spread and your hands on your fucking head the whole time. And to emphasize your new station in life, all the time the water is on, you will repeat `Master Drew is God.' Oh, and if the weight on your poor balls gets too painful...tough shit. Got all that, fag?"
"Yes Sir," I managed to whimper. This one really had me scared. For one, I HATE cold water, and fifteen minutes in an ice cold shower would be pure agony. But more scary was a potentially huge weight pulling down on my already tender scrotum. Without giving me any more time to think, Drew turned the faucet knob on high, and I greeted with a freezing blast of icy water. I yelped a bit, an adjusted for a moment before remembering that I had to verbally praise my owner throughout this torture. "Master Drew is God. Master Drew is God. Master Drew is...," I began to drone on.
I can't even begin to describe how that water felt on my body. It was like I was standing naked in a hail storm -- the water almost stung as it seemed to pelt me. My whole body shivered and I thought hypothermia was likely by the end of this ordeal. My skin already felt strange from being recently shaved, and this icy bath was not what it needed to feel normal. Equally bad to the cold was the fact that the bucket attached to my nutsack was slowly filling with water as it trickled down my torso. My balls were aching as they strained to support the growing weight. I was on sensory overload, and all the while my cock still throbbed with horniness.
Master Drew just stood outside the frosted glass shower stall, leaning cockily on the sink and listening to me praise him as a deity. He occasionally chuckled or made a sarcastic remark. God, time was moving slowly. It seemed like I had been under the water for an hour. As the time crept on, I did somewhat adjust to the temperature, although it certainly never got to a level even approaching comfortable. I just tried to block it out and focus on the repetition of the humiliating phrase: "Master Drew is God...Master Drew is God..."
Just as I was thinking that time HAD to be up, Drew informed me that 10 minutes had passed, and that I was two-thirds of the way done. I let out an annoyed groan of agony.
"Don't fucking groan at me, you ungrateful faggot. You will be punished for that," barked my young dictator. It was still hard to believe I was completely owned by an 18 year old kid.
Added punishment was the last thing I needed anyway. By this point, my bucket was completely full, and my balls were being stretched in agonizing pain. I felt like they must have been hanging halfway to my knees. The last 5 minutes seemed like an eternity, but finally, Master shut off the water and asked with a smirk, "How you feeling, bitch?"
"Cold...and...inalot...of pain...Master," I shivered out.
"Good, just how I drew it up. Now, about that business of you groaning at me like a sick fucking cow. You need to be taught a lesson about obedience and respect. Get out of the shower, and try not to spill that bucket."
I didn't understand how a little moan was disobedient. I also didn't understand how the fuck I was going to get out of this shower without ripping my balls off and/or slopping water out of the bucket. But I gingerly stepped out onto the bathroom floor, only spilling a few drops. I was again ordered to spread my legs.
Master Drew squatted down, and tugged a couple times on the rope that connected my balls to the bucket, as if testing the quality and strength of the knots he had tied. It hurt like hell, but I bit my tongue to try and keep quiet. Standing back upright, Drew started laughing at my patheticness. I must have been quite a sight. Next, he circled right behind me, and flicked my ears one at a time, over an over again, sadistically holding his index finger behind his thumb and then letting it snap free in a painful flicking motion. He did this a dozen or so times on each ear, and though it wasn't as agonizing as the pain on my scrotum, it certainly wasn't pleasant.
"I'll bet you like the feel of me flicking you, huh slave?"
"Oh yes, Master. It's great," I replied sarcastically.
"Well good then, you won't mind your punishment for groaning too much then. To teach you a lesson, I am give you just one more flick. But it's gonna be on your nuts. Isn't that a good idea, faggot? Now pick which of your little balls you want to be in agonizing pain."
Holy shit, that would have to be the most painful thing I could imagine at this point. My balls were severely stretched downward and tied off, completely unprotected. "Oh please no Master. Please, anything but that. That will hurt so fucking bad and my balls are already in so much pain. Pleeeaaa..."
He cut me off with a firm tug on the rope. "Shut up you pathetic piece of shit. You just earned a second flick. Which will be nice, so you can have one on each of your little fag rocks. Nothing quite so great as symmetrical pain."
With an evil grin, Drew again squatted in front of me and, without warning and in a single motion, unleashed a firm flick to my left nut that sent me reeling in pain. I must have spilled half the bucket of water with my jerky reaction. I felt like I was going to throw up. Then, without giving me time to recover, he let loose on the right nut with equal force.
As I collapsed in a wreck of pain on the tile floor, Master just laughed at me. "Congratulations, faggot. Your sixth ordeal is completed. Now clean this mess up and meet me in the living room." He strode off. "You can untie your ball sack, but don't you dare touch that worthless cock."
...
Feedback greatly appreciated. This is my first story on Nifty. More parts coming soon!