"Please Sir"
He could hear his heart beating in his ears. Every muscle wanted to be this man's slave. His fuck toy. His lowly pig. His dog. His broken slave.
"So you want to be my slave, do you cunt?"
"Yes Sir, please S........". His words were strangled in his throat as the wind was forced from his lungs as his master thumped him in his stomach. The blow was completely unexpected. It came from nowhere. He couldn't breathe. His mind was exploding with shards of colour appearing everywhere. Tears were stinging his eyes as he fell to his knees on the ground.
Finally he could start to breathe again and he felt the intense pain in his innards. As if somebody had punctured his stomach with a hot piece of iron. The gulping in of air was the only sound in his ears except his thumping heart screaming for oxygen.
"What do you say cunt?".
His mind was racing. He couldn't think. His mouth was dry. Panic. Suddenly he could feel the bile rising up his throat. He tried to swallow to keep it down, but his stomach spasmed and the contents exploded up his throat and onto the muddy path.
Again and again he puked until he was just retching. The acrid taste of bile burned his throat and nostrils. He was shocked and scared. Scared of what his Master would do. He hadn't been told to or had permission to puke. He had tried to stop but he couldn't. He hoped his Master would understand that it was just an involuntary reflex after his master's fist to his stomach. Would he be understanding? Be merciful?
But he didn't want that. He didn't want his Master's mercy. He wanted to be treated like the lowly piece of shit that he was. If he fucked up he should be punished for it. That was the only way. He needed to learn. If that meant learning the hard way then that is what he had to take. What he needed. He didn't want a soft Master. He needed a man to teach him and mold him into shape. Into the real slave he could be.
Next he felt the rough sole of a boot at the back of his neck. He could feel the rough tread scraping at the skin of his neck as it pushed neck and head down. He tried to resist for a little but the boot just pushed harder. Pushed his face towards the contents of his stomach lying on the muddy path. He could see it coming nearer and nearer.
The smell hit him first before he felt the still warm vomit on his face. He closed his eyes, whilst the boot kept on pushing. "Keep your mouth open, cunt. I want you to taste it. This is what they do to fucking animals when they foul the place." He could feel the lukewarm vomit mixed with the cold mud fill his mouth as the boot pushed his face down further and further. 'Disgusting' is what his mind was shouting. 'Don't do it.' But he knew he had to take it. Take whatever his Master gave him. It would make him a real slave. He had made a mistake and he had to pay for it.
His dick was rock hard in his combat trousers and pulling painfully against the cock and ball torture device that he had been forced to wear at the pub. This is what he wanted. A Master who knew how to deal with him. He had had a few Masters before but he had always been able to get around them. To get them not to punish him or not too harshly. But he always got bored with them in the end. He was looking for somebody who could handle his pushy dominant side. To put him in his place.
The boot now pushed his head from side to side, wiping his whole face in the vile mixture of vomit and mud. This is horrible. I can't believe this is happening. These thoughts were racing through his mind. This was happening because this is the way he should be treated. He should be degraded and humiliated. To be shown that his body and life did not belong to him but to his master. To do with as he pleased. To break the arrogant little twat that he was and to mold him into whatever he wanted.
"Close your mouth!" his master shouted. The battle still raged in his head. Should he obey or just tell his Master to fuck off? He had done it to so called Masters before. But this time......
Slowly, he clenched his jaw. Closing the vomit and mud in his mouth cavity. His stomach spasmed again with the bile rising in his throat. But this time he controlled it. He could taste the acid of the vomit at the top of his mouth and the earthiness of the mud. He could even feel the coarseness of the rough mud in his mouth.
The pressure of the boot eased on his neck. This allowed him to raise his head out of the mud by about two to three inches. He couldn't really see anything clearly as he flickered his eyelids to try and clear the muck.
"Now swallow, pig!" What? No, absolutely not.
But he deserved it. He had done something wrong and his Master was taking the time to teach him that it was wrong. He wanted to learn so badly. Again slowly, he gathered his willpower together.
His Master smiled as he saw his new slave's Adam's apple move up and down as he fought to swallow the contents of his mouth.
"Good boy. We might make a fucking pig slave out of you yet." Although his mouth stank of vomit and mud, he was happy. He had passed. His Master was happy with him. He had not been sent away.
"Thank you, Sir," he stammered.
Next he felt the cold of leather replacing the boot on his neck. His master closed the collar tightly around his neck. It wasn't a small dog collar, fit for a poodle, but a large four inch thick collar fit for a mastiff. Although cold to begin with, the leather soon warmed up, becoming as warm as his own skin. It felt so natural. But he was disappointed when there was no padlock to keep it in place. He did not deserve a padlock yet. He would have to earn that. So far, he only deserved a collar that could easily be removed and be placed on another more deserving slave.
His Master attached a heavy chain to the collar. Just a simple thick chain. It was heavy enough to pull on his neck. To remind him it was there and why it was there.
Next came the cold steel of handcuffs, as his arms were cuffed behind him.
A sharp tug on the chain told him what to do. He struggled to his feet, not easy with his arms handcuffed behind his back. His Master was already walking. He was dragged. But he got his feet underneath him and stumbled after his Master. His clothes dirty. His hands cuffed behind his back. A large collar and chain around his neck. His face covered in caking mud.
And the imprint of his Master's boot on the back of his shaven head.