Slings and Shackles - Chapter 7
Slings and Shackles
© 2021
by
Jonathan Longhorn
Copyright © 2021 by Jonathan Longhorn (jonathan_longhorn at yahoo dot com). All rights reserved. Except for the use of less than two pages in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means is forbidden without the express written permission of the author. Express permission is granted to The Nifty Erotic Stories Archive for storage, indexing, retrieval, and display of this work.
Disclaimer: The material in this work is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and language. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older. All of the characters in this work are assumed to be at least 18 years of age.
Warning: This story contains scenes of intense BDSM domination and submission. Please read another of my stories if intense BDSM bothers you.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. In the real world having sex without using a condom can be very dangerous to your health. Don’t ruin your life or your future. Slip it on before you slide it in.
All trademarks used in this work are the sole property of their owners and have been used without permission or endorsement.
Chapter 7
So, my first infraction—as a short time later it would be called—was that I looked up, and up, and up until I was staring incredulously into Kelly’s eyes. A sub—even a one-time only, one-night only sub in my case, ‘does not’ look into his Dom’s eyes unless directed to do so. He gazes downward if they are in the middle of a scene and maybe even outside of a scene if directed by his Dom.
“Kelly! What are you doing? We’re in the middle of a scene! You need to get off the stage before….”
Yeah. You guess it. Infraction number two.
My cock and balls suddenly lit up. Like, lit…fucking…up.
That fucking electro-cage!
Aarrgghh! Aarrgghh! Aarrgghh!
Infraction number three? I somehow fought through my cock and ball frying and jumped up to my feet to look directly at Kelly face-to-face.
“Dude…Kelly,” I gasped as I tried to recover from those zaps. “Kelly, seriously. We’re in a scene. You have to get off the….”
“A Dom should establish his superiority and control over his sub from the beginning,” Logan said as he handed the remote to Kelly.
Oh. Shit. Wait. What? Dom? Superiority? Kelly wasn’t a Dom. Kelly wasn’t a superior. Not in this realm of reasoning anyway. He was a complete submissive.
“Your first infraction,” Kelly said quite matter-of-factly. “Is that you looked into my eyes without permission.” Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap.
I’ll spare you these five ‘aarrgghh!s’ You know they came right behind each thumb-to-remote button.
“Your second infraction,” Kelly continued. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. “You addressed me by my first name rather than by ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ or ‘Master Longmont.’
Sir? Master? Master Longmont?
WTF!
“Your third infraction,” Kelly continued on. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. “You stood up and confronted me face-to-face.” Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. “And then, you continued addressing me by my first name rather than addressing me by one of the titles I deserve.”
Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap.
My eyes crossed and then rolled back into the dark recesses of my skull for a moment, and I felt hands grab my biceps on either side to keep me from falling on my face or backwards and probably cracking my skull open.
As my breathing and my wits—scrambled as they were—partially came back to semi-not-so-normal, and my eyes rolled back into place, Kelly stepped back and then sat on the bench behind him. He patted his knees.
Oh. Hell. No! He was not gonna….
Master Logan handed Kelly a paddle that had holes in it. Holes that allowed the air to whip through it and made impact much more painful. Err, effective. Yeah, that’s the word. ‘Effective’.
Double. Oh. Hell. No! No way was I gonna….
Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap.
“If you keep pushing your luck, boy,” Master Logan said sternly. “We are not only going to castrate you, we’re going to leave what’s left between your legs smoking like a cheap cigar.”
Gulp.
What the hell have I done? What have I volunteered for here?
Fuck.
I could ‘feel’ the rabid attention of those five hundred plus guests. I could ‘sense’ them licking their lips. I could almost hear the comments: ‘Would he actually?’ ‘Is he gonna?’ ‘This is hot as fuck’….
And I did.
My face was flushing with the humiliation of what I was about to do. What I was about to do in front of Master Kent and Master Logan and all…of…those people in the audience. My humiliation of what Kelly was about to do to me.
I stepped forward and then dropped to my knees and then crawled up and over Kelly’s legs and positioned myself draped over his thighs. My feet—toes actually—and my fingertips balancing me in place.
“I was going to just deliver your punishment as twenty-five whacks with the paddle and twenty-five with my bare hand,” Kelly said.
Twenty-five with…? Holy fuck!
“But, since you showed me such a complete lack of respect just now,” Kelly said as he rubbed the paddle over my right butt cheek. “I think it would be appropriate to increase that punishment. I think it will increase accordingly. Fifty whacks with the paddle and fifty bare-handed should be a good start.”
A low whistle sizzled through someone’s teeth. I’m not sure if it was Master Kent or Master Logan.
I started to protest but wisely kept my mouth clenched tightly shut.
“You will count off the whacks, boy,” Kelly commanded. “And if you miss a count, we will start over from scratch.”
Oh. Fucking. Shit!
Where did this…. This…. This…‘Kelly’ come from? He’s a submissive!
The first four whacks to my left and right cheeks were sharp and stinging but not entirely tear-producing. They were almost tentative on Kelly’s part as if he was trying to decide on angles, trajectory, power, and—could he actually deliver this kind of punishment to the guy who had Dom’d over him so many times in the past ever since we discovered one another’s ‘tastes’ after running into each other right here, in this club one night.
After those four tentative whacks to both cheeks, someone in the crowd ‘very helpfully’ shouted out that I was not calling out the count. Thanks, dude. Much appreciated.
And of course, I had to open my big mouth.
“If you are going to humiliate me and demoralize me in front of a crowd who knows me as a Total Alpha Dom, Kelly,” I said sarcastically. “You should suck it up and whack and wail the hell out of my ass. Make me feel it. Make me suffer. Make me fucking cry by the end of my punishment.”
Me. And. My. Fucking. Big. Mouth.
“You got it, boy,” Kelly said harshly. “And, by the way, you didn’t count off those whacks. We’ll begin again, shall we?” I couldn’t tell from my position draped over his knees of course, but he looked up to Master Kent and Master Logan. “Hold him down, gentlemen.”
“On it,” Master Kent said as he moved to kneel and grab my ankles. He applied enough pressure to crush my feet into the floor.
“Gladly,” Master Logan responded. I swear I could almost hear a lilt in his voice. He was enjoying the shit out of this. He knelt down in front of my face and grabbed my wrists and hoarsely whispered to me, “Imagine yourself on a ladder that leads down into the pits of Hell. Every ten whacks of that paddle or his bare hand takes you a rung deeper into the abyss. When you get to that last rung, will you hold on for dear life or will your ‘Dom’ self plunge into a submission like you have never imagined?”
Hell? Ladder? Rung? Abyss? Submission like I have never…? Did he take some of that Whoremaker, too?
Whack!
Fuck! That stung like fuck! Kelly chose ‘now’ to listen to me? He let loose with a swing that would have been behind a grand slam homer that won the World Series for the team.
I had to remind myself.
Count off. Remember to count off. Loud and clear!
“One!” I grunt shouted out. The mic picked it up and the crowd hooted and hollered.
Whack!
“Two!”
Whack!
“Three!”
Fuck! This was gonna be torture but I vowed silently not to let it break me. They. Would. Not. Break. Me!
Whack!
Fuck! Grunt and moan.
“Four!”
Shit! He was swinging for the fences here. How many more? Forty-six to go with the paddle? And then fifty bare hand? I hope they remembered that my bare ass had graced the big screen in some of my recent movies—major motion pictures. I didn’t need blood or scars or for that matter the skin ripped to shreds. Of course, right now there were eight 150” screens showing my ass being paddled to the hilt to utter delight of ‘this’ rabid crowd gathered here in ‘The Arena’.
Whack!
Fuck. How many was that? Shit! How many was that?
“Five!” Whew. That was close.
No lie. I swear I suddenly saw that ladder Master Logan referred to. It was taking shape in my mind’s eye and was becoming a little clearer with each strike of paddle to ass. Gazing downward from rung to rung, I could see the ladder sort of disappear into the murky darkness of Hell. Or whatever that was far below.
Whack!
“Six!”
Whack!
“Seven!”
Did I just go down one rung?
The crowd was loving this. Hoots. Hollers. Wolf whistles. Applause.
My humiliation was growing here. I was a fucking DOM, damn it!
Whack!
“Eight!”
The sting was exploding in my ass cheeks and growing exponentially with each additional slam of the wooden paddle to my skin. Tears were welling up in my eyes.
By the thirty-fifth whack I was squirming and wriggling and trying to get out from under this onslaught. Master Kent and Master Logan held me with vice-like grips so that I wasn’t going anywhere. Tears were openly streaming out of my eyes and dripping onto Kelly’s thighs and down to the stage floor. I was snuffling at snot trying to keep it from dripping out of my nose, too. My face and my ass were in competition which one was glowing more fire engine red at this point. I have no idea how many of those rungs Master Logan had talked about I had gone down but it felt as though the abyss seemed closer than ever.
Whack!
“Thir…. Thirty-six!” Fuck. Was I getting delirious? My head was spinning. How I was still resisting. How I was still squirming, I have no idea.
Whack!
“Thirty-seven!” I was still counting out loudly and it was being amplified by the mic but my voice was cracking and shaking along with every inch of my body.
“I think we’re witnessing the birth of a baby Dom,” Master Logan chuckled.
“And the birth of a submissive,” Master Kent chimed in.
Like hell. They could do to me whatever they wanted. I had to remind myself that I gave them carte blanche for this scene tonight. It was all about raising money for the LGBTQ+ Center and those kids. But when this was over, and after a long soak in an ice cold bath, come Monday I would be back to being Master Boone, Total Alpha Dom. They could take that to the….
Whack! Whack! Whack!
“Thirty-eight! Thirty-nine! Forty!”
Sweat was dripping from my face along with those tears. My body was glistening. My ass was glowing like some volcanic cap ready to blow. I felt sweat dripping onto my shoulders. Kelly was dripping, too.
And we were only halfway through this torture.
Ten more whacks. Only ten more whacks. Only ten more whacks.
I could do this. I could take it. They would not break me.
Oh. Shit!
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
I was not expecting rapid-fire.
“Ungh! Forty-one! Forty-two! Forty-three! Ungh! Forty-four! Forty-five! Ungh! Fuck! Fuck! Forty-six! Forty-seven! Forty-eight! Forty-nine! Ungh! Shit! Fuck! Fifty!”
The roar from the crowd was deafening. They were eating this up. They were loving the total manhandling of not only a well-known Hollywood star but a well-known Total Alpha Dom. And that domination being at the hands of a known ‘submissive’? Oh yeah, they were going nuts. Hopefully they were dropping additional bucks into collection plates here in The Arena. Surely management was passing around collection plates for additional donations.
I was trying to catch my breath and locate my brains after Kelly had whacked them out of my head and through my ass when the paddle dropped to the floor in front of me. It was soaked. Sweat only, fortunately. There was even moisture up into those strategically drilled holes.
“Turn him around,” Kelly said to Master Kent and Master Logan. “The crowd should get a good view of his hole and that plug during the spanking part of this.”
Master Logan laughed. Master Kent chuckled. They lifted me up and turned me around before draping me over Kelly’s thighs once again. Master Logan kicked one of those foot spreaders into place and used it to take my feet wide out, offering what I could only imagine would be an award-winning view of my plugged hole—said plug pulsating a liquid fire bright, hot pink. This complete, he and Master Kent took their places once again; they vice-gripped my ankles and wrists to ensure I could not get up.
Shit. Did I start at ‘fifty-one’ or did I start back at ‘one’ when the spanking started? I ventured into it with respect.
“Permission to ask a question,” I asked hoarsely. “Sirs?”
“Good boy,” Master Logan whispered in my ear as he held down my wrists.
“Ask,” Kelly said as he ran the palms of his hand over my burning ass cheeks.
“Do I start over at ‘one’ or do I continue from ‘fifty-one’ to ‘one hundred’?”
Master Logan interjected.
“If you start at ‘one’ again,” he said sternly. “Then you are back at the top of the ladder. When you reach ‘fifty’ you will only be halfway down the ladder once again and you will need additional spanks to take you to the bottom of the ladder. I would advise you to start at ‘fifty-one’,” he said with tremendous authority but maybe a sense of compassion buried in there somewhere. “Unless you want an additional ‘fifty’, that is.”
Like hell! Fifty was fine. Not ‘fifty’ plus another ‘fifty’.
“Thank you for the advice, Sir,” I said rather meekly.
Before I was completely ready, and thusly caught off guard, it started.
Slap!
Fuck!
Was the bare hand worse than the paddle? The searing sting seemed to go straight into my brain.
“Fifty-one!”
Slap!
“Fifty-two!”
Slap!
“Fifty-three!”
By the time we hit ‘sixty’ I found myself gazing down those rungs toward the bottom. Was that the bottom rung of the ladder or was it just an illusion created by the murky darkness of Hell? Or whatever that was below. I was unsure at this point.
Kelly made haste to guarantee that my earlier taunt was null and void. There was nothing tentative about the spanking he was delivering. He was smacking the holy fuck out of my ass cheeks.
Slap!
“Sixty-one!”
Slap!
“Sixty-two!”
Geez, my eyes were crossing again. And then they rolled up into my skull somewhere. Sweat was pouring from every pore in my body. Kelly’s, too.
At ‘seventy’ I realized that I was no long resisting. I was no longer struggling. I was simply taking the ‘spankings’. Obediently. Taking. The. Spankings.
It seemed that Master Kelly noticed, too. His open-handed slaps were harder. The sound of his palm crashing into my upturned cheeks resounded and echoed throughout the chamber. A vicious, rabid hush had taken over the spectators. They were awed. They were astonished. They were eating this up.
Slap!
Fuck! Harder still. Fuck!
“Ungh! Seventy-one!”
Slap!
“Seventy-two!”
“This is your last chance, boy,” Master Logan’s voice sounded right next to my ear. I felt his hot breath dripping down from my ear to my shoulder. “Use your safe word now or go down that ladder and into the abyss of complete submission.”
There was another of those flashes of white light bolting around inside my brain suddenly. Everything was whited-out like a blizzard before slowly coming back into shaky focus. I was mere steps from the bottom rung of that mental ladder that Master Logan had told me about.
No. No. No! I would not give it up. I would not cave. Not in front of this crowd. Not with so much at stake for the LGBTQ+ Center. I could take it. I could last out this onslaught and come out on the other side unscathed—once I was able to sit down again, anyway.
“No. No safe word,” I choked out. “Hit me with everything you’ve got. I…can…take…it.”
“You heard the ‘boy’,” Master Logan said to Master Kent and Master Longmont. “Unleash the demons of Hell on him from here on out.”
Demons of Hell? WTF?
Where he got the strength to nearly double the power, I have no idea, but Master Longmont smacked my ass the next time so hard I thought my eyes would pop right out of their sockets.
Wait. Um. What? ‘Master Longmont’? Where did that come from?
Slap!
“Seventy-three!”
Slap!
“Seventy-four!”
Slap!
“Seventy-five!”
Oh. Satan’s Fuck!
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Continuing on for the last twenty-five spanks in rapid-fire succession.
And.
Zap! Zap! Zap! Zap! Zap! Continuing on twenty-five times in sync with those spanks.
And that plug. That enormous, undulating, throbbing, vibrating fucking plug was not to be ignored. I don’t know who was holding the remote for that at this point but the plug jumped into high, higher, highest, and holy fucking shit gear as well. It went into quadruple overdrive in my ass.
“Seventy-six!”
Fuck. My eyes were still rolled up inside my skull somewhere but I swear I could feel them rolling around in there like cue balls being smacked around a table.
“Seventy-seven!”
I could suddenly see the bottom rung. It was only a few steps away now.
“Seventy-eight! Seventy-nine!”
I broke.
I held out as long as I could. But I broke. Whatever Alpha Top Dom in me that had remained until now shattered and was obliterated. It was vacuumed out of my brain like dust.
“Eighty!”
Whoremaker seemed to sense the shift even though it had no mind of its own. It was just a drug. Right?
“Eight-one!”
Once the shattered fragments and the dust of my previous Alpha Top Dom-ness was seemingly out of the way, Whoremaker began rewriting those memory banks with the vocalized assistance from Master Logan, Master Kent, Master Longmont.
‘Your days as an Alpha Top Dom are over.’
‘You will never Dom again.’
‘You are castrated.’
‘You have a boyclit. An adorable but useless boyclit.’
‘You are a complete, total 100% submissive ravenous cocksucker with an insatiable pussy cunt.’
‘Your pussy cunt is built for fucking and breeding by a REAL MAN’s COCK.’
‘Your duty is to service and worship a REAL MAN’s COCK with your cocksucker mouth and your pussy cunt.’
“Eight-Two! Eighty-three! Eight-four! Eight-five! Eighty-six!”
My brain peeled open even further and began absorbing all of this information they were pouring into it. I was broken. I was defeated. My defenses were non-existent. Those shattered and pulverized and dust clouds of my past Alpha Top Dom self were being vacuumed up and spit out and I could see them swirling downward into those inky dark depths of Hell. Or whatever it was. Fading. Fading. Fading. Disappearing far beneath the last rung of the ladder.
“Eight-seven! Eighty-eight! Eighty-nine!”
‘You’re days as an Alpha Top Dom are over.’
‘You will never Dom again.’
‘You are castrated.’
‘You have a boyclit. An adorable but useless boyclit.’
‘You are a complete, total 100% submissive ravenous cocksucker with an insatiable pussy cunt.’
‘Your pussy cunt is built for fucking and breeding by a REAL MAN’s COCK.’
‘Your duty is to service and worship a REAL MAN’s COCK with your cocksucker mouth and your pussy cunt.’
My peeled open brain continued absorbing and accepting the messages pelting me from the three Doms towering over me.
It’s my fault really. I refused to use my safe word even when they gave me the opportunity. By refusing to use it, I paved the way for them to march on in their domination over me. By telling them to throw everything they had at me, I gave them permission to do just that. I gave them permission to destroy me.
And they did. In spades. Spades, pitchforks, graders, front-end loaders, deep sea drill bits….
“Ninety! Ninety-one! Ninety-two! Ninety-three”
‘You’re days as an Alpha Top Dom are over.’
‘You will never Dom again.’
‘You are castrated.’
‘You have a boyclit. An adorable but useless boyclit.’
‘You are a complete, total 100% submissive ravenous cocksucker with an insatiable pussy cunt.’
‘Your pussy cunt is built for fucking and breeding by a REAL MAN’s COCK.’
‘Your duty is to service and worship a REAL MAN’s COCK with your cocksucker mouth and your pussy cunt.’
“Ninety-four!”
Those last few spanks had increased exponentially on top of exponentially. The zaps from the clit cage were frying my junk and transforming it—in my mind anyway at Master Logan and Master Kent and Master Longmont’s verbalizations—into a boyclit.
“Ninety-five! Ungh! Ungh! Aarrgghh! Aarrgghh! Ninety-Six! Ninety-seven! Ninety-eight!”
The last rung on that ladder. I was standing on the last rung of that ladder. The inky, swirling blackness was at my feet. It covered my toes as I stood there, shaking and wobbling.
“Ninety-nine!”
The final crash of Master Longmont’s palm to my ass cracked and sizzled like a bolt of lighting hitting a telephone pole. The final zap of the cage finished off my junk for good. The final plunges and pulses from that plug continued to shape and mold my hole into what would permanently become my pussy cunt when they were finished fucking and breeding it. “One hundred!”
My feet left that bottom rung and I had an out of body surreal moment as I watched myself—Alpha Top Dom Boone—fall away from the mental ladder that Master Logan had described. I plunged into that murky darkness.
Whoremaker was finished with my mind wipe and it was moving on with its plan, with rewiring and rewriting my circuits.
I was done.
END of Chapter 7
To be continued . . .
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