Storm Discovery, Part TWO "Training"
Bamaboi2serve@charter.net
My ass burned from the repeated blows by the whip, and I worried there could be permanent damage done. I screamed as much as I could with the gag filling my mouth, and tried to twist my body away from the path of the punishment, but it did little good. It seemed to last forever, and even the boy tied on my left seemed concerned. I could hear his moaning and there was a look of worry in his eyes.
Eventually I must have passed out, awakening strapped facedown on a high table...like the kind a masseuse uses, including a rubber lined depression that my face had fallen into. There were straps holding me down every foot or so, ending with one forcing my head into the rubber. I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon!
"I suppose I need to thank you for saving my boi...even though I was there myself a short time after the storm hit. So thanks!" His voice was extraordinarily deep, making his words sound like growls. He punctuated his comment with two sharp slaps to my ass, which was still burning from the previous beating. It hurt like hell!
I was still gagged, this time with some kind of smelly cloth, so I could do nothing to complain or acknowledge his comment.
"The way you've taken your discipline so far tells me I did the right thing when I took you with us last week. I could have just left you with your little ambulance."
Last week? I thought. Had I been here that long?
"My fuck slave thinks you're hot, by the way. He hasn't actually told me that, but I can tell by the way he looks at you. I've been thinking about letting him take out some of his hidden aggression and anger with me on you, but we'll see. That`s one of his old jockstraps in your mouth, by the way. If you are really, really good, you may earn a promotion to one of my socks."
The voice had been coming from behind me, but then he came over and stood in front of my tied down face then, and I could see his thick black boots and his muscular black legs too.
All was quiet, and then I felt the warm liquid hitting the back of my head and filling the leather pouch holding my face up. It a matter of seconds the rubber cup was filling up and I was in danger of not being able to breathe once it covered my nose. I was able to push the jockstrap-gag out of my mouth, and I start slurping up his piss as fast as I could. It worked, and he eventually stopped pissing. My chin sat in a cooling pool of the little bit that escaped my mouth.
"Good slut! Very good! My fuck-slave-boi almost drowned the first time I put him to this test! Here's a reward for you!"
Again, my ass was slapped, this time with his bare hands, over and over, about a dozen solid slaps that had my ass burning!
Then he seemed to get down on the floor, reaching under the table. Solid steel clamps grabbed both my nips at the same time through the holes that had obviously been drilled for that purpose. Then there was a solid pulling that stretched them downward. Another chain was connected to the ones holding the weights, and the end of it was clipped to a large cock-gag that he then forced into my mouth, strapping it around my piss-soaked head. Any movement of my head pulled on my tits.
I was left alone for a while then, and despite the position I was strapped into, I managed to sleep for a while.
I woke as I felt bonds being losened, then the tit clamps came off. Then my gag was taken out, and finally my blindfold removed. I was still loosely tied down, but able to move a bit.
For the first time I spotted my abductor. He was a towering black man, at least 6'5" and about 220 pounds; all of it as far as I could see was muscle. He was completely shaved, and was inscribed with a series of intricate tribal tattoos on his upper body. Black and red ink had been used, and the combination on his coffee colored skin was very exotic. He was naked except for a black leather vest and a white jockstrap.
"Good morning, cunt!" he bellowed.
"Good Morning!" I responded.
He bent down, grabbed my head with both hands and forced me to within an inch of his face. I kept my eyes slanted downward.
"That's SIR to you, slut! Say it again!" he yelled.
"Good Morning, Sir!" I replied.
"Better, boi! Now's time to let you know some of the rules of this place...and the first one is you never, ever speak unless it is in answer to my questions...and my questions only. If fuck-slave comes to you and asks if you want a blow job, what do you say?"
"I would say...nothing, err, Sir."
"Very good, slut. Second rule: your cock is mine. Your ass is mine. You little-boi tits are mine. Your entire body is mine and I will do with it as I please. Do you agree?"
I guessed I really did have a choice here, but I knew I was tremendously turned on by this scene. It was a real-life version of most of my masturbation fantasies...down to the fact that my Master was black. I didn't exactly have a Mandingo kind of thing going, but the idea of a black master appealed to me, something about the tables being turned on me, this skinny white boy of privilege. I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but decided they could wait and answered with a simple "Yes, Sir."
"Good, faggot slave boi! Rule number three: I can and will loan you out for the pleasure of my friends, and you will obey them just as you obey me. That loaning process will begin tonight, before I've even taken your worthless ass myself. I want them to break you in for me. Is that OK?"
"Sure..."
"SURE? SURE WHAT?" he bellowed, using his open hands to punish my already red ass some more.
"Sir! Yes, Sir! I shouted through my pain.
"Better! Fuck-slave is going to get you ready for you premier tonight. He's going to wash your worthless puny body and remove that little-boi hair and get you dressed for your night of service to my friends at The Garage. OK boi?
"Yes Sir," I almost screamed. I had read about The Garage in Downtown Atlanta, and had actually planned to go there this summer if I could work up my nerves. It was supposed to be a big old former welding shop equipped for S&M enjoyment, with lots of torture devices and toys, and lots of slaves and masters playing.
Apparently satisfied with my level of submission, Master finished untying the belts holding me to the table, and I was finally able to lift my head completely from the piss-filled rubber tub. That's when I noticed that tornado boy...the fuck slave... was in the room with us. Without warning, he walked over and pulled me off the table, pushed me down on my knees, and put his cock in my mouth. I looked out of the corner of my eye and could see Master watching, apparently approving. Fuck-boi started peeing, and again I was taking a stranger's piss, swallowing as quickly as I could to keep up.
Then he turned around and bent over, forcing his ass into my face and ordering me to start licking. He was fairly clean, but it was still humiliating, and he kept up the verbal abuse too, calling me not worthy of the word slave, and mocking me for allowing him to use my mouth to clean his ass.
When he tired of it, he put me on all fours and walked me over to an open stall shower in a corner, inserting the tube-gag in, forcing my mouth open and making it impossible for me to say anything. He tied my hands to chains suspended from the ceiling above the shower, stretching my body to the point that I was standing on my toes.
FS, as I came to think of him, scrubbed by body roughly with a stiff brush, and then used a razor and shaving cream to remove all of the hair on my body from the neck down. He seemed to take special pleasure in removing the pubes around my cock. "Hey slut, where did you get the idea you could have this man hair anyway? You're not a man, are you? Would a real man be on his knees sucking a mere slave's cock? Drinking my cum and piss? Licking my balls? I don't think so! You sure don't act like a man, so why should you look like one?" Repeatedly as he spoke he slapped my cock and balls, also reaching up to roughly pinch my tits. Needless to say, I stayed erect. I was loving the abuse, even when it truly hurt!
Looking in the big mirror across the room, I could see he was right about me. I looked more like a 14-year-old version of myself than a young man. My bush was gone, the pits were stripped of their symbol of manhood...I wondered how I could possibly explain any of this at he ambulance company shower-room! After a single rinse Fuck-Slave left me standing there while he went out of the room for a moment.
When he returned, he untied my hands and said simply, "Master approves!" and pushed me to my knees. Then I was sucking his cock, with him determining the speed of the job with both hands on the back of my head. He was hard almost immediately, and long enough that he hit my throat opening with each thrust, his shaved balls slamming against my chin.
"Come on cocksucker, show me what you can do! Take this cock deep!" he said mockingly. I could tell he was taking out on me the resentment he may have built up being used by Master and his friends. I wondered how much of a true bottom he was. I couldn't imagine ever getting to the point that I would hate what he was doing to me right now!
I grabbed his legs to keep my balance, but he pushed them away and ordered me to keep them behind my back. When I grabbed his them a second time, he got a pair of handcuffs from a nearby table and locked my hands in place behind my back and pushed me against the wall of the shower so prevent me from moving backward against his oral assault. He resumed his pounding, ramming into me over and over till I was tearing up. Then, with one final push, he held me impaled on him and shot his load deep into me. Choking, I managed to swallow all of his jism.
As a chaser, he pissed into my mouth again, washing down the cum lining my mouth. Through it all I was hard, and I found myself wishing he had more piss to give me.
I was being abused by a slave...a fuck slave...one probably younger than me! What did that make me? I wondered. Lowest on the totem pole, for sure. Right where I wanted to be!
To be...continued. Next: the new slave spends the night at The Garage, used and abused by temp-Masters.
Comment? Suggestions? Let me hear from you! Bamaboi2serve@charter.net