Gay Erotic Stories

I started calling him a "prick" over the beginnings of our long distance relationship. Since we lived on opposite coasts of the United States and only got to see each other every three weeks, we spent lots of time on the phone between visits. Master enjoyed graphically describing what he wanted to do to me when we would find ourselves physically together again, and if the scene were particularly nasty, I might let out an expletive. And one time, I told him he was a prick. The first time it happened, he told me in his most domineering voice that he didn't like it, and he warned me that I should not do it again. Being the cocky boy I was, I just kept it up. Since I knew that he particularly disliked this name, I endeavored to find any opportunity to say it. Of course, I continued the game in hopes of a particularly creative and painful punishment, and eventually that is exactly what I got. So back then, Master was in Florida and I was in California. The only way we got to see each other was on travel, and the first time we were physically together again after I started this "prick" business was in Detroit. We stayed an Embassy Suites outside the city proper; the room had a bedroom separate from the living room, the usual for this hotel chain. In the living room there was a fold-out sleeper sofa to accommodate guests, but when folded out and with the mattress removed, it made quite a nice (and very uncomfortable) torture rack. READY TO PLAY As soon as we entered the room and dropped our luggage on the floor, he pulled me to him and gave me a very strong embrace. His tongue ran deep into my open mouth. My erection began to take life. "That's the last bit of tenderness you'll get from me in the next few hours, boy. Strip your clothes off; unpacking can wait until I'm finished with you." I'm of course anticipating some absolutely incredible sex because it was usually three weeks or more between each physical encounter. My heart raced with anticipation: I had packed some toys in my bag and as he had in his, so he had a small but powerful assortment from which to choose. NAKED I stood naked in the middle of the living room having shed my clothes. He instructed me to stand still, and he circled me around a few times, slowly, looking me over from head to toe. Master loved my body from the first time we met. I was in my mid twenties and in excellent shape. I swam and lifted weights, so I was very muscular and defined. My chest was shaved, so this accentuated my lean body even more. My blonde hair was cut short. To complete the package, I also had (and still do) piercing blue eyes, a nice medium tan, and boy-next-door good looks. With a 30 inch waist at 5 foot 10 inches weighing 185 pounds, I was quite stunning. I could easily tell he adored me more every time we were together. I always knew, however, that there was an ulterior motive for the adoration: he checked for marks or bruises to see if I had been with another Master while we were apart. There was, however, no need for anyone else. Despite the long distance and the length of time between physical encounters, no one in my young life had ever pleased me to the extent he did. I continued to hope that one day we would find ourselves together for many years to come. I was Master's property, and he knew it. He liked it. He reveled in it. He stood in front of me know: "Are you here for my pleasure, boy?" "Yes, Sir, I am here for your pleasure, and your pleasure alone. What would you have me do, Sir?" "Spread your legs, boy." He came closer to me and grabbed my balls in his right hand. He squeezed them tightly, but only tightly enough to make my erection grow a little more, not enough to cause me too much pain. "Let's begin." LEATHER I have this leather jock-like garment of which I'm rather fond. It has a "triangle" of leather with a hole in the center. On the outside of the hole are three small straps of leather which snap in place to hold a heavy metal cock ring. The ring's opening is the exact same size as the hole cut into the leather triangle. All of your equipment goes through the hole in the leather and then through the metal ring. There are four leather straps above the hole, each with buckles. When fastened, they hold your cock in place tight up against the triangle of leather. A leather "belt" runs around your hips and another that runs up your crack -- jock strap style. The ultimate configuration -- once tightly in place around your waist -- is one that pushes your balls out presentation-style and keeps your cock out of the way. This ingenious device makes testicle torture all that more easy for Master. RESTRAINED Sofa bed extended, mattress removed and leather jock in place, he tied me face-up to the wire frame -- quite playfully with little indication of the punishment that was to come. In fact, I really wasn't expecting to be punished for calling him a prick -- it had almost become commonplace since I called him this name so often. I had 3-inch leather cuffs that wrapped around the wrists and angles. On the interior of each was some cushion to protect the skin underneath, and on the exterior was a D-ring that allowed you to fasten down the limb. I was stretched tautly, each of my four limbs attached to each of the four corners of the wire frame. As I said, it was not all that comfortable since the wire frame dug into the flesh of my back and butt. The open wire frame also yielded the added bonus of allowing master to bind my body in other strategic places. He wound two other cords around each leg, another couple around my torso, and one additional band at each elbow. Now fully restrained, I noticed a little gleam in his green eyes, and I began to grow just a little concerned and somewhat anxious. And that's when he gave me a little hint of his plans for me. He reminded me about calling him a "prick:" He asked me if I remembered that he warned me that I would be brutally disciplined if I ever called him a "prick" after that first time. I remembered all too well. Of course, I had repeatedly called him by this name -- just to be a little shit -- in the sincere hopes for a very nasty scene. "Well, boy, you need to learn that, when your Master tells you not to do something and you do so anyway without heed to your Master's commands, there are consequences to be suffered. I told you that the punishment would be severe and it will be." "First we will start with some *very* intense ball torture. Your balls will be swollen and sore when I am through. And after I have taken my pleasure busting your balls, then I have a surprise planned that will teach you a lesson that you won't soon be able to forget." Out came the first toy. I had two kinds of whips: one was fairly expensive and handmade for which I paid well over $100. The leather was fine grade and the strips were wide, each one cut square. It didn't "bite" you -- you could be whipped for hours and no marks would remain -- yet you still felt all of the impact because of the weight of the whip. The other whip was not nearly as expensive or as well-made. The leather was not as fine and the tips of each strap were cut along the diagonal, so this one did leave marks if used too long, and the diagonally cut tips "dug" into your flesh: it had quite a nasty sting. To my dismay, I only brought the cheaper of the two, and that was the one with which he began my punishment. With Master, there was no "build up" -- he just started right in, and this time was no exception. He flogged me on all areas surrounding my ball sack -- hard hits --, but he never connected with the ultimate target for a good 5-10 minutes. He whipped my stomach and my inner thighs where the flesh is *very* tender. I was hard as a rock in anticipation of what was to come. With my leather jock on, I knew it was only a matter of time when I would feel the sting of Master's whip on my tender balls. My cock strained against the leather buckles that kept it firmly in place. The buckles were fastened at the very early stages of my hardon, but now my cock was completely engorged with blood. The leather buckles brought a significant amount of discomfort. Then he did it. He brought the whip down square on my balls. Perfect shot. The entire end of the whip connected. With may balls pushed out for easy access, they had no choice but to take the full impact of the blow. This was a full force hit too, and it was followed repeatedly by many more. I kept trying to sit up: your natural reaction to good shot in the nuts is to contract your abdominals. The restraints made this impossible, so squirming was all I had left, and there was little point to it -- I wasn't going anywhere. No place to retreat; my bonds were very tight. He gave me at least fifteen rapid shots, all full force, all square on target: my poor, unprotected balls. When he stopped briefly, I relaxed my muscles and caught my breath, but I knew that this was only the beginning of the exercise. The anticipation of the whipping, before he began connecting with my nuts and then the brutal aftermath of the last several blows, had me dripping precum, and I was *very* hard. But my erection was also becoming intensely painful as the buckled leather straps restraining my cock became tighter and tighter as my dick grew harder and harder, the cum building up deep inside of me. Master just smiled, and told me there was more whipping to come: 30 more lashes in fact. He told me that I had to count: "one, thank you sir, may I have another..." If I missed a beat or didn't get the whole phrase out before the next time the whip connected with my defenseless balls, he would start over again. Believe me, keeping up amid the pain given the rapid speed at which each lash connected was very difficult, but I wasn't inclined to take more than the 30 lashes. I kept up, beat after beat. The pain was excruciating. Had I been unrestrained, I would have retreated to the fetal position allowing no access to my sensitive jewels. The precision of each blow combined with the harshness of the whip put me in complete agony. I could see the whip connect each time and watch as my nuts took the concussion. The leather jock ensured my balls could not fall down between my spread legs finding some small amount of protection, nor could they fall to either side of my erection allowing my cock to mitigate some of the blow. The metal ring removed any play from my sack and ensured Master of a clean, crisp shot each and every time. There was little time between when he finished with the whip, and he pulled out what he called a "flapper." It was like a paddle -- about as long -- but much thinner, maybe only about two inches wide. 20 more whacks -- same counting aloud. A short respite filled with some verbal abuse, followed by another 20. He has much more control with the flapper, so the degree of intensity increased correspondingly. I struggled futilely against the restraints. I could feel the pain all the way up inside me, but he could tell I was enjoying it -- precum just dripped from the head of my cock. After a total of 40 hits with the flapper, he stopped. TIME TO CUM "Now you're going to cum!" He removed the leather jock strap -- not all that gently I might add. He undid the buckles holding my erect penis. There were welted marks around the shaft where each had been. The belts around my waist and up my crack were unsnapped, so that the only thing that was keeping it "on" me was my erect cock and swollen balls. All of my boyhood still resided snugly through the leather hole and heavy metal ring. He started to pull it straight away from my body. My balls were painfully stretched as he pulled, crushed up against my hard cock -- the opening much "smaller" now than when I was forced through it still somewhat flaccid. Finally my nuts gave way, *squeezed* to their limit, and popped painfully through the hole. He then put a pillow down between my widely-stretched legs and "kneeled" in front of my balls. The pillow was for his comfort so that his knees weren't cut by the wire frame of the sleeper sofa. "I stop only after you cum. Not before. And I'm going to keep increasing the pressure until you either shoot or pass out." He took my balls, one in each hand, cradling each ball between his index and second fingers. The thumb went on the other side of each, and the pressure began. It didn't take much. It has been days since I came, and despite the ever increasing pain, I shot a huge load. He never once touched my cock, just the pain that spread through my nuts made me unload. Now one thing about me. I can take a lot of ball torture - I love it. But after I cum, I collapse into a complete wimp. My load laid glistening around my navel, but the vice-grip he had on my nuts didn't release. "What did you call me?" More pressure. "And I told you not to call me that again, and you did. Why?" More pressure -- the pain made me see colors... More pressure still -- the pain all the way up inside of me... Fuck! "Now, we really begin your punishment for calling me the P-word." But he left my nuts go, and began undoing my restraints. A SOUND PADDLING My restraints now undone, my real punishment was to begin. But first, a little history: I found a paddle in a leather catalog that was too hot for words. I simply had to have it. The picture was appealing to the eye, and so was the description in the catalog. The implement was leather-clad which gave it a great look, had several nickel-sized holes which gave it a nasty appeal, and at its heart -- beneath the leather -- resided a eighth-inch thick piece of sheet metal. The metal gives the paddle some rigidity while still providing the right amount of flexibility; the resulting sting is appreciated only by the true connoisseur. We played with this paddle before, and even light smacks stung harshly: the metal interior and the large holes were a killer combination. But back to the story. I was delighted to be free from the rather uncomfortable metal structure of the fold-away bed, but I knew damn well that there was more to come. Master made me fold the bed away. Beforehand, I replaced the mattress and neatly made up the sheets -- I did not want to offer any more reasons for punishment other than my p-word indiscretions of the past. He ordered me to go over to my "little bag of tricks" which I brought with me from California. I was to retrieve my collar. I have a 2-inch wide collar that Master dearly loved. It had a nice design; the two ends of leather overlapped and then the buckle overlaid the intersection. You can make it tight without being pinched by the buckle. It had three 'D' rings in front -- handy for all occasions, including those diabolical ones -- as you will soon see. Master put it on so it fit snugly around my neck, the buckle was in back and the three rings were in front -- the middle ring centered directly beneath my chin. He then made me get a parachute which he placed roughly around my sack with little concern for my aching nuts, trapping them inside the leather cone. He then told me to get on my knees and to place my forehead on the ground. He pulled both of my arms behind my back and restrained them with rope. My arms were pulled very tight. Each hand rested on the opposing arm's elbow. He wound the rope around my forearms which were side by side on the small of my back. Using another length of rope, he connected the parachute to the center ring of my collar. He left no slack, and applied enough tension so that even with my back arched the pressure on my balls was great, not extraordinarily painful, but not exactly pleasurable either -- especially given the events of just before. He then walked over to the bag and took out the paddle -- the one that he knew I didn't like and could barely tolerate -- the one that I purchased from the catalog. The ingenuity of the bondage was now crystal clear: he wanted to be sure not only that my hands were useless so that I couldn't defend myself but also that they were high enough up on my back so that my ass was a clean shot. He roped my parachute-encased balls to my collar, tightly enough to arch my back: any attempt to pull away from his assault on my ass would result in extreme testicular agony. "Here are the rules of the game:" he said, "1. You will be hit 20 times, mercilessly." "2. Following every whack, you will count aloud and ask for another, and no matter how much it hurts, you will ask to be hit harder." "3. If you lose count, we start over." "4. If you say anything -- including crying out, begging, or pleading -- other than what you have been instructed to say, we start over." "5. If you struggle, you increase the pain on your swollen nuts, but should you squirm so much that you fall over to either side, we start over." "All through this discipline, I want to you ponder how irreverent you have been calling me the p-word. Do you understand?" I responded in the affirmative, "Yes." A pregnant pause. My mind was so preoccupied with the paddle and what was about to come, that I neglected to end my response properly -- I forgot the "Sir." "What did you say, boy? I think you just earned another 10 -- that's 30. Do you want to make it 40?" "No, SIR -- Yes, I understand the rules, SIR." The first whack was terribly painful. This paddle bites *very* hard, and Master was not pulling any punches. He wanted me to welt my ass enough that I would remember the paddling for several days to come. As painful as the first hit was, each subsequent swat was worse. At 25, I was in tears, but I was not about to violate any of the rules that were laid out at the beginning. My ass didn't bleed, but both muscular cheeks were bruised a deep shade of purple before he took the final stroke. He undid my arms first, and then he loosed the tie between my balls and collar. He told me to turn around and kneel before him, and he asked me if I had anything to say, and you better believe I did: "Sir, I will never call you that word ever again, Sir." I started to move toward him, hoping for the reward of a hug... a kiss... a little token of affection..., but I was rebuffed: "You aren't done yet, boy. I haven't cum, now have I?" HANDCUFFS Finally there was some small amount of time to recover. The assault on my hapless balls followed by the intense paddling left me completely drained. I could feel my nuts were swollen and red, but I didn't think they were bruised like I new my backside was. My backside: it still stung, so much so, that I didn't even dare touch it now that my hands were released from the ropes. And there I knelt before Master hoping for some small amount of solace, but I knew none was forthcoming. I could see it in his eyes. I could hear it in his words. There was still more pleasure for the slave boy to provide. Master had a huge load to shoot, but he had plans for some additional pleasure to trigger the shot. "I could come right now if I wanted to, boy. Crushing your balls and beating your ass has me rock hard, boy. Look at how hard my cock is. But cuming right now would be just a little too easy. I'm going to make you work for it." Master's cock was hard. His foreskin was fully stretched, his head totally uncovered, his dick at its fullest length. He was extremely excited by all the pain he inflicted on me. Master reached down and unsnapped the parachute. The blood finally could return to my nut sack which I could see was not bruised, but it had a little tinge of blue due to the tightness of the parachute and the pressure it inflicted while roped to my collar. "Thank you, Sir," I said. "How do those little-boy-balls feel?" "Fine, Sir. I appreciate all the attention you gave them, Sir." "Well, perhaps I'll give them a little more attention later in our session. Are you ready to make me cum, boy? You're punishment is over, but you are still here for my pleasure. The sooner you get me off, the quicker we finish. Understand?" "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. It will be a pleasure making you shoot your load, Sir." "Good! Don't get up off your knees, but crawl over to our bag of toys and bring me the handcuffs." I quickly complied. He knew that I love to touch him. I never minded if he hurts me, but I loved to touch him while he brought me to that threshold of pleasure and pain. I knew that the handcuffs were to prevent just that. He wanted that added amount of control, denying me any satisfaction until he was finished. Of course, I had been very disobedient and therefore had little room to complain. I didn't even bother begging as I knew it would be completely unfruitful. "Stand up, boy, and turn around." He brought both of my wrists behind my back and shackled them together with the police-issue handcuffs. He directed me out of the living room and into the second room of the suite, the bedroom. There, up against one wall, was a king size bed. He quickly stripped all the linens from the bed leaving only the bare mattress and the pillows which he piled one on top of the other. I stood beside the bed as he climbed on and reclined atop the pile in an almost sitting position. His legs were spread wide and his cock was pointing directly toward the ceiling. WORK YOUR WAY DOWN "Get on the bed and come up between my legs, but don't touch me with any part of your body until I give you instructions." I did as I was told taking extra care not to touch Master. This was of course quite a challenge since I could not use my hands for balance. I finally found myself kneeling between his spread legs. "Good, boy. There are only two parts of your body that may touch me until I tell you otherwise: your lips and your tongue. You're going to begin kissing my neck and slowly work your way down my chest. You're going to caress my nipples with your tongue and spend plenty of time with each one. You're going to continue working your way down my stomach very slowly toward my cock. You'll take it in your mouth and you'll take me the whole way in." "If I'm not satisfied with your treatment of me, I will make you do it over until you get it right, but before you have the opportunity to redeem yourself, I will cover your cock and balls with Ben Gay which should make the second time down somewhat more memorable." "If you touch me with any part of your body other than your lips and your tongue, I'm going to tie you to the bed face-up, spread eagle and use your favorite paddle to smash your nuts with 5 very powerful blows. Understood?" "Yes, Sir!" And so I began my journey from his neck all the way down the trunk of his body to his eager cock. Knowing how close he was to shooting his load, I couldn't imagine the will power it took to instruct a very slow decent to his dick. In reality, he wanted the time to calm down, so he could make it last just a little bit longer, and not unload before making me earn it. I took my time over his nipples as he asked, taking my tongue in wide circles around each one, gradually coming closer to the hot pink meat at the center with each subsequent revolution. Each nipple was fully erect and very hard when I was done. I could tell he was very pleased with my efforts; as equally pleased as I was delivering the pleasure. Further down I went, letting my tongue trace a line toward his belly button and further down toward his throbbing head. And all along the journey, never once did I touch his body with any part of mine other than my lips and tongue, just as I was instructed to do. Extra caution accompanied every move I made for fear of the terrible retribution that would be taken on my already aching balls. All the way down now, his engorged head in my mouth. First licking it very gently. Using my lips to stimulate the rim of the head's helmet while I flicked the tip of my tongue around his piss hole. He was moaning in delight. Then I started to take him deep in my throat, all the way back as far as I could without gagging. The salty taste of precum was delicious. I pumped his hard cock with my mouth as fast as I could without jeopardizing my balance in the hopes that he would cum in my mouth and that I could finally rest and recover from my hour of previous torment. I knew better, however: he could control his ejaculation, and so I continued to stroke up and down on his rod for a good five minutes before he gently pushed me up and ordered me to shift my position. DEEPER After he praised me for the beginnings of a wonderful blow job, he ordered me to lie on my back on the bed with my head extended past the edge of the mattress. I knew what was about to happen. He wanted to control the depth and speed of the strokes. Hands helplessly behind my back with my head leaned back, he could now ram his rod as deep, as hard, and as fast as he pleased. Surprisingly, he started out slow to ease me into it. I suppose even he was repulsed by the thought of me tossing my lunch, gagged with his dick. But the preamble was not long lived. He began to get into a rhythm, and with stroke after stroke he built momentum. The head of his dick had to be forcing itself into my esophagus because the length of his cock far exceeded the depth of my mouth. With each stroke, his balls flopped against my nose and eyes and I could feel his pubic bone against my chin. He was the whole way in. At its full insertion, I couldn't breath, so I had to sneak breath between each stoke. I followed his rhythm: as he would pull out, I would breath in; with the next stroke, I would breath out; and so the pattern continued. Eventually, he stopped deep in side my throat. I thought for sure he would cum, and I was a little scared thinking I would choke on the jism. He was so deep inside my mouth. But the brief pause was for him to tilt his torso forward and lean his weight on the palms of his hands which he placed on the mattress to either side of my abdomen. This just made fucking my mouth even easier for him. His cock was so hard, and just as I thought for sure he was reaching the point of no return when he would unload that hot, salty semen in my eager mouth, he withdrew. JUST FOR FUN He moved to the foot of the bed standing in the center of the bedroom. "Get off the bed, and come over here. Stand in front of me." I did as I was told, and came to stand directly in front of him. He was taller than I was, but only by an inch. Our eyes could still meet, and they did. "Come closer." I was about three feet away from him, and so I took two small steps forward closing the distance to about one foot, careful not to come too close and touch him as that order has not yet been disbanded. I couldn't figure out what was going to happen next. I wrongly assumed he would order me to my knees to continue worshipping his cock. "Spread your legs." Oh, god, I knew what would follow... "I'm not through with your pathetic little balls yet, boy. I'm not quite hard enough yet, and I need to give you a little more pain before I can cum." I had to plead. My balls were so sore and so swollen. Even the slightest pressure from my inner thigh, made them throb: "Sir, please, SIR, not my balls. They're so sore, Sir. Please, Sir, mercy..." "Boy, do you want to make your Master happy?" "Yes, Sir. Of course, I do, Sir." "Then, boy, I want you to take it and stop whining like a pathetic little fuck. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." "Now, spread you legs." I did. I spread my legs about 2-3 feet apart where my feet touched the floor. "This is going to hurt, boy." "Yes, Sir. Whatever you want, Sir." "You my boy? "Yes, Sir." "Can you take it, boy?" "Yes, Sir." "Then say 'hurt me'." And as the words escaped from my lips, he lifted his knee right into my poor, already-bashed balls. The impact drove my nuts up into my body and crushed them against my pubic bone. His aim was perfect as always; it was his knee cap that connected with my sack, not the softer tissues of his thigh. The pain was intense. I buckled over from the blow, but didn't fall. "Get back on your feet and take another. The longer you wait the harder the knee I deliver." As quickly as I could I got back to my feet and placed them squarely on the ground about the same distance apart as before. As I prepared for the next lift, he said, "Good boy." And much to my surprise he came closer to me and hugged me. He gave me a deep kiss, forcing his tongue far back into my throat. He caressed my back lightly with his finger tips, and as I relaxed, he delivered the second blow. Since he had his arms around me, he held me up so I wouldn't collapse. This knee was far harsher than the first, and had he not been holding me erect, I would have fallen to the floor. ANOTHER HARDON Well, as you can imagine, I was getting steadily aroused. Licking him from his neck all the way down to his hard dick, then having him fuck my face... After the two shots to my nuts, I was in full blossom again. Another hardon. But Master was not pleased. "Did I tell you to get hard again, boy? I don't recall that. It's my turn now, not yours." He gave my face several hard slaps, and then forced me to my knees. His hands behind my head, he forced his still very hard cock into my mouth. With his cock shoved the whole way deep into my mouth and my head held place by his hands, I simply couldn't breath. Before I almost passed out, he began to stroke. He built the rhythm back up that he had before. I began to keep pace with him again, taking my alternating breaths between each piston-like plunge he made into my wet mouth. Surely, now he will cum... He picked up speed and force, almost so much so that I didn't have time to breath between each stroke. He was gushing precum, enough, that if I didn't know, I would surely have thought he came. His breathing was labored, and sounds of passion issued from his mouth. Recalling the knees to my nuts in his mind's eye would surely now put him over the edge. He withdrew. RIM SHOTS "Get on the bed. Lie in the middle on your back." I did as instructed, and he climbed onto the bed. Standing. He came over me and straddled me. His feet were just under my armpits and he was facing my feet. He then began to squat down on my face. "Lick my hole, boy. I want you tongue all the way up." I began to lick his hole. I started at the outer limits, planning to work his hot hole like I did his tits, making it last. As I gently ran my tongue all around the target, I got a very painful slap which connected squarely with my nearly crushed balls. I howled in pain. But before I could even begin pleading for mercy: "I told you I wanted your tongue in my hole, you little fucking cunt. I want to cum, but first your going to clean my hole with your tongue. Now get your tongue up there, or I'll start pounding your balls again, and the next shot will be with a closed fist." My tongue got an instant erection and shot up his hole almost before he could finish the last sentence. I worked it in and out, and only licked the perimeter when I simply had to take a rest. This seemed to be fine with Master. He seemed to like the complete withdrawal and then the reinsertion. I could feel a drip of pre-cum fall to my bare chest from the head of his cock. He was enjoying himself for sure. HOUSE CLEANING He now stood up on the bed and climbed down to the floor. He left the bedroom, and while I couldn't see exactly what he was doing, I could tell he was in the living room rummaging through one of the bags of toys. He came back toward the bedroom, but stopped short. He was in the bathroom. I could hear sounds, but I couldn't see what he was preparing. After only about 20 seconds, he returned to the bedroom with another order: "Get up, and get into the bathroom, boy." On the middle of the counter was an ordinary kitchen timer, and lined up right behind the timer were three enemas, already unboxed. Only the protective tip remained. "Get on your knees, boy: forehead on the ground like when you were paddled. I'm going to fuck that tight ass of yours, but first I'm going to make sure it is squeaky clean." He started with the first bottle, and squeezed the entire contents into my ass. I could feel the fluid flow into my colon. He then emptied the second bottle. It began to get somewhat uncomfortable. As the last remnants of the third and final bottle entered my hole, I could hardly suppress the urge to empty my bowels. "On your feet." He reached for the timer and set the dial for five minutes. "You hold it in until that timer rings, boy. If one drop of fluid from your ass hits the floor, I'm going to take a shit, and make you lick my ass clean again, boy. You understand?" "Yes, Sir!" The next five minutes seemed to be endless. The enemas began to work their magic and I struggled with my body to fight the urge to evacuate my colon. It was sheer torture, but it simply didn't compare to the terrible thought of having to lick Master's smelly ass after he defecated. Finally, the bell did ring, and without waiting for any approval from Master, I quickly reclined on the porcelain throne and let go. I was definitely flushed clean. FUCKED While I was sitting on the throne, he brought in the leash. And as I sat, he attached it to the collar which he rotated half way around so that the rings were now in the back, centered as before only in the exact opposite direction. When I was done cleaning myself, he led me back to the bedroom by the leash and we got on the bed. I was on my knees, butt toward master. He got the lube and a condom. He undid the cuffs so I could support the weight of my upper body with my arms. We were obviously going to do it doggy style. I could feel his lubricated finger enter my now sparkling clean hole. In and out. Now two fingers. He ensured that I was nicely moist, but took very little time. I could tell he was eager to cum. He would never say so, but his balls had to be aching for release. After the condom sheathed his rod, he forcibly inserted it into my hole. It didn't take long for him to plunge deeply inside me, my ass taking his full length completely. He grabbed hold of the leash and began to plow my ass. I could tell he was reaping great pleasure knowing that he was choking me with each thrust of his pelvis. The pace and force of each ram was far greater than before when he fucked my mouth, after all, he had the leash to gain extra leverage. His cock was hitting my prostate over and over, and even though I wasn't touching my own cock, I shot another uncontrolled load on the unprotected mattress. And just as I did, I could feel that final deep thrust and the agonizing moan of final achievement from Master. After a few moments of enjoying his long-awaited climax, he gently pulled out. He got some towels and wiped the mattress where I came. He also carefully wiped my ass free of the lube, very gingerly so as not to aggravate my bruised bottom. He told me to sit on the chair that was beside by the bed. And while I relaxed, he quickly made the bed. He had me lie down and he gave me a wonderful back rub, and I fell very soundly asleep. Comments about this story are most welcome, Balls2Bash@aol.com.