My Body (Different) By bamaboi Bamaboi2serve@charter.net
Before all of this happened, I really knew my body, and I mean knew it. In fact you could call me the world's top expert in it's valleys and curves, it's hairs and textures.
I knew when a muscle had been even slightly overused, and when it was time to use conditioner on the tufts of hair under my arms. And of course I knew my cock best of all...knew the exact amount of pressure on the head that would breach the pleasure-pain boundary, knew exactly when to stop pumping to hold off cuming, knew how to use the internal plumbing to piss on command and to stop equally fast.
That was then. Now, I am an explorer. On those rare occasions when he allows me the freedom to use my finger as a probe, I constantly make new discoveries.
Take this morning, when I awoke to find my right arm shackle removed. A breeze blew from over the garden wall, and there was a scent of new blooms in the air, roses perhaps. He likes roses, I knew. I had felt their thorns.
Knowing my time would be short, I immediately started a journey, tracing my finger along my ribs...feeling each one of them protrude, as distinct as a mountain range. In my previous life I had been quite muscular, constantly turning heads at the gym. Now my bones showed.
Before I got any further in my exploration, my forearm brushed against something cold and my rib-search was distracted. It was metal, about the size of a golf ball, and open, like...like, yes it was a eye-bolt, surgical steel I guessed as I traced its smooth two-inch shaft downward until it ended at the skin over my right hip.
I had no memory of the implant being done, but since he kept me drugged so much of the time that wasn't a surprise. My touch told me the skin had healed smoothly around the bolt, with little scar tissue. I could imagine how it looked, shiny against my unnaturally tanned skin, robotic and mechanical. Slavelike.
I couldn't see it, or anything else for that matter, and before I could stretch my arm across to the other side, to my other hip, to seek a possible eye-bolt's left-side companion, the drugs overtook me again and I was back in the mental darkness.
I know he plays with me during the darkness. But sometimes the mix of drugs is off just a bit...a little too much of one chemical or too little of another, and when that happens I retain a faint memory of events. At those times I am almost always grateful for the drugs that are working.
Last week was one such time. I was tied spread-eagle on the metal table in his garden, the leather and metal restraints had stretched me so tightly I had no room to move, other than shaking my head side to side. My legs were pulled especially wide and lifted up in the air, telling me some ass play was going to occur.
I thought I knew my ass before him, but he has taught me so much! I thought I had stretched my sphincter wide, playing with sex-partners and their big toys and fists. But he had introduced me to an entire new world.
He loved loosening me up so much that he could use his foot on me, no, make that "in" me. In the beginning he had to work up to it, stretching me with dildos and but-plugs of increasing size, then working his toes in one by one until the entire end of his foot would slide in. Now he's got me adjusted so he starts with the entire end of the foot and in a short period of time, he is able to insert it all...with his leg sticking out of my ass and his toes playing with my prostate. He has told me his eventual goal is to have both feet in me, though even after all I've been through I have trouble picturing it.
This time the drug mix was off enough that I could feel him in the room, moving around the table, attaching electric clips to my elongated, almost feminine nipples, using some clothes pins on the tender skin on either side of my armpits. He had already done my daily enema cleaning that day, so I was empty and ready.
The thick leather and steel mask he had welded to me kept out all of the light and most of the sound, the clip-on eye pieces were almost never taken off, and then only in very dim light. He didn't want me blind, just blinded. The mouth piece had a tube that reached far enough inside to reach the back of my throat. All of my breathing took place through two small nose holes in the mask.
The tube allowed him to piss directly into my mouth when he relieved himself.
At first he had taken only little squirts into the tube, to let me adjust to the taste and the process. But now it was several times a day. I was his urinal. Amazingly, I had become addicted to it and every now and then he would piss into a toilet, letting me hear it and getting off on my moans of yearning. Sometimes he would collect my piss and feed it back to me, once doing so for two full days, making me into a piss recycling machine.
As I became aware of him moving around the room, I felt something move against my stretched left leg. Was he caressing me? More movement, cool and rough, as if he was rubbing a hairy leg against me. But in my minds eye I couldn't picture a way for his leg to be in that position.
I felt him insert a familiar appliance into my hole, a metal spreading device that doctors used to examine the insides of people. He had used it on me so often I wasn't even a little alarmed when he manipulated it so my hole was wide open...a good three inch cavern opening into my body.
Now the odd movement was pushing up against my balls, sliding against them as if he had cooled his hand with ice before touching me.
After my initial training weeks, he almost never talked in my presence, letting me know what he wanted by brute force. Grabbing my head and pulling it to his crotch, shoving me to my knees or roughly twisting my arm behind me.
But now he spoke...he must have inserted a tiny ipod-like speaker inside the mask because his voice filled my world, a deep, completely masculine sound that rumbled against my eardrums. My cock twitched in hearing it.
"It's time you learned a new skill, cuntboi," he told me.
"I want you to meet my friend slither."
The touching feeling then moved to the hole between my legs as he urged the snake inside me.
His voice tried to calm me but it didn't work. I felt the serpent touch my bowels and passed out.
Comment? Bamaboi2serve@charter.net