After the shock of the fifth lash settles down, Nick takes pity on me. He comes to stand facing me and gently pulls the tape off my eyes and then off my mouth. Immediately I start crying my eyes out and the way he looks at me only makes me cry harder. He is proud of Himself that He's making me cry this way. He babies me along, even toying with my face and kissing my forehead. "Yes, baby, it's all good. Cry all you want; it gives Me pleasure."
"It hurts so much, Master," I babble out almost incoherently. He shakes His head yes. "I know, slaveboy, I know it hurts. It pleases me to hurt you right now, boy, because I want to make you understand that I own you now. I'm taking over your life and tearing down your barriers. Yes, baby boy, it hurts for you to be reborn as Mine."
The sixth lash is halfway down my right ass cheek and onto my left leg. I go to tear my legs away. I don't remember when the Master bound my legs as well, but I can't move at all.
Silence—well, except for my weeping and wailing and now my mantra is "it hurts, it hurts."
"What hurts the most right now, slaveboy?" Nick asks me in His sweetest and most seductive voice.
"Where the lash landed on my leg, Master."
"That leg belongs to Me, not to you, slave. I have every right to whip it as much as I want. Can't you get it into your thick head just how helpless you are, how much under my power?"
He's conditioning my mind as well as my body. For the first time, I realize that I'm not going to recover from this, that things will never go back to the way they were before. That life of mine is gone now. Now? All there is Master whipping His slave.
. . . Eleven lashes. I'm still at the whipping post collapsed from exhaustion. Twice He wiped my face and nose and still it's wet. Now He removes my legs from their bonds first but I barely move at all. The two lashes that struck my legs were the worst, especially the one that managed to take a bite out of my inner thigh.
He sets my left arm free and tosses it over his shoulder, manipulating me so that when He releases my other arm, it to goes around His neck as well. He's holding me up. I don't have the strength to stand. He slides Himself down to the floor and holds me in his arms, Him on His back, me lying on top of Him with my whipped flesh open to the air. Everything hurts, it seems, and yet the pain is assuaged by the way He keeps praising me, telling me how proud He is of me, congratulating me for "breaking through to slavery"—whatever that means.
All I know is that I simply want to remain in His arms forever, and that I will do whatever it takes to earn more of His praise.
###Sub Protocols: Roles for bois. Number 21: Superiors are often invited to view a slave's body after it's been whipped. Number 21b: A whip-marked slave earns income for its Master by being photographed. ###
It took four full days before I was able to move about comfortably. Nick was so sweet to me as I recovered. He was pleased with the results of the whipping; welts had been laid across my flesh in parallel lines from the top of my shoulders to slightly below my ass. Quite a few Men stopped by to view me, and I spent a great amount of time bound to soft mattress as Nick let it be known that His slave's body was "beautifully decorated by My whip," as He put it. A couple Men were allowed to touch the marks of the whip. Occasionally the pain reduced me to tears once again and, of course, Nick really enjoyed seeing my tear-streaked face and making love to it when no one else was around.
He had me photographed several times over the course of the four days, always making sure that my identity was hidden and my face was not exposed. One day, however, when the tears were flowing, he had individual portraits of my face taken and these proved to be very popular with Doms and Sadists who rarely got to see such a pretty face broken by its Master.
I was thrilled beyond belief that I was able to earn income for the Master even on days when I was still too sore to do any other kind of work.
###Sub Protocols: Rules for bois. Number 89b: A sub seeks every opportunity to can earn income for its Master.###
It turns out that one of the major porn studios offered Nick an impressive amount of money to make a video the next time He decided to whip me, but Nick turned them down. "For one thing, it will be a good long time before this slave will ever need to be punished this way again. For another, anytime I feel a slave deserved to be punished this way, it's something very private between us." As it turns out, the studio doubled the offer, explaining that most bdsm whipping scenes were done with willing actors. A film of a real Master actually punishing a real slave would stand out because it is so authentic. "An actor is willing to be whipped if the price is right; a slave has no choice and earns nothing from being whipped. The authenticity of such a scene is of inestimable value."
Nick told me about this because He wanted me to understand that even though it was His right to use me for His own financial advantage, there are still situations where He draws the line. He helped me understand that this was one of the ways He's being protective of me while I was under His control.
We never talked about permanent ownership. I don't know whether it was because Nick himself wasn't interested or because He knew that it was much too soon for me to surrender my life into the hands of a Master as intense as Him. I must admit that I was tempted when it came to Nick, so I guess it was just good luck that He wasn't looking to claim me as His permanently.
I have to say, though, that every time Nick favored me with His domination I learned something new about myself, about what it means to live as a slave, about why some of us are destined for that type of existence from the moment we were born. Every time I was serving Nick He took me in directions I hadn't traveled for, He inspired me to break through old limits, and he taught me a lesson that a lot of subs never manage to figure out: that the right amount of kindness in a Master serves to enslave a slave like me even more deeply and more completely.
He took a special interest in my balls, because, as He said, "there's a whole world of pain waiting for you that no Master has wanted to inflict on you. I intend to." And He did. One session with just some ordinary cords binding and separating them and as the pain increased all I could do was lower my head to the ground and want to slither underneath His feet, and once down there, I'd beg for Him to own me. Once night He pissed a little on the floor by my face and I quickly licked it up without even being ordered to because I wanted so much to show Him just how far down He could crush me.
Other than that first "warning," He never discussed it again. Most of the time, He preferred to teach me by what He did to me. His thin paddle that I think was made of teak slapping my balls repeatedly while Nick held the entire scrotum in His hand drove me out of my mind, and He just wouldn't let up until I was choking on my own sobs. One night He brought me to an underground chamber made completely of concrete that served as an echo chamber while I howled in response to the continual thumping of that paddle. As His sessions with me continued, it got to be almost a question of routine that once He gave me a respite from the agony I was driven to beg Him to feed me His piss.
One night He refused to piss in my mouth and I curled up in agony bitterly resenting how cruel He was being to me. How naïve I was, and how stupidly spiteful.
"That does it, faggot. I'm just about done with you."
I begged him not to give up on me.
"Then cancel everything you've got on for the next week. I intend to punish you more severely than I have ever punished a slave before. No safe words."
"Please, Master, please do with me whatever you want. Please, Master, punish me the way You think I deserve. Please, Master, please."
That night was the second time I ended up bound to that whipping post for a dozen lashes while He hung weights from my tortured balls. After I was whipped He made me crawl into a cage where I collapsed on my belly and passed out. When I finally awoke it was in complete darkness. The cage had been moved into a solitary confinement cell. He kept me bound there for two days but then I freaked out because I pissed myself.
He let me get clean then right away put me to work. He found a couple men who would get off on having a recently-whipped slave slobber over them, wash their dirty clothes, and scrub their floor on my hands and knees while they took pictures. It was awful. I was still so fucking sore that every move I made hurt.
Nick had made a prediction: "I'm going to punish you so severely that you probably will never dare come near Me again." And He was right. After I recovered from that beating, I never dared being with Him again.
Word got out that He had broken me. The man who took pics of me scrubbing his floors with welts all over my body sent them around and even had them showing on the tv screens in the clubs. The first time I went back to the Club, Doms were looking at me with scorn in their eyes, not lust. One of them made me look at the film clips of myself scrubbing floors. "You're used goods now, faggot. How can any guy get off on pushing you past limits when it's obvious to all of us that you no longer have any. No one wants to work a total slave. What the fuck is the fun in that? We Doms get off on breaking slaves. You're already broken. Go out in the streets and start blowing winos for five bucks a cock. That's all you're worth now."
A week later I was got on a bus to another state, hoping to outrun my reputation. It worked. None of the guys back home had any interest in spreading shit about me. The only Doms I stayed in touch with were Jack, Major and Ron. And, of course, Danny. Ron promised to let me know when things finally calmed down and the past would stay in the past.
That's the end of this chapter.
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I also wrote two stories with another name. One is "Q sub" and the other "Adoring Devin."