Extract 1
“My dad never laid a finger on me,” he snapped. “He wasn’t a sick pervert like
you.”
I noted the past tense and the anger in his voice. Barry clearly had issues
unresolved and it was easy to guess what they were.
“How sad for you!” I continued, provoking him further. “But I’m not talking about
when you were a little boy lusting after your old man’s cock. I mean recently spanked,
properly spanked – by another man that you wanted to tan your ass... as well as fuck you
senseless.”
He spun round, fury in his eyes, his hand raised ready to strike my face – the nerve
well and truly touched.
“That’s enough!” he yelled. “Get out! I’ll call the police if you don’t.”
Most men would back down under such a threat; Barry was a well built lad and could
probably pack a good punch as well as a hard slap. But I held my ground and I held his
gaze then I captured his wrist and held it tight – surprising him with my greater
strength. They were less obvious when covered by a business suit and shirt, but I too had
muscles aplenty, hardened over the years; and I also know a thing or two about arm to arm
combat – Barry was no match for me. I found a pressure point on the inside of his wrist
and pressed down on it with my thumb. Barry’s face contorted in pain.
“No you won’t,” I snarled, showing anger for the first time. “Instead you’ll say
sorry for making fun of me this morning.”
“Fuck off!” was his defiant response.
I tightened the grip and forced down on the point even harder, making the poor lad
squirm – he thought to cry out but the threat in my stare held him quiet.
“Fuck what?” I asked.
“Fuck off!” he replied, less assertively than before.
“That’s not what you mean. Tell me what you want, Barry. What do you really want me
to do?”
He looked at his wrist captured in my hand, paralysed by the pressing of my thumb.
He saw my strength and felt my power and the desire I conveyed through the touching of our
skin. He looked at my face and was captured once again when he saw the certainty of what I
could offer.
“I want you to... I want you to fuck...” he stammered.
“Fuck what, Barry?”
In a whisper he finally answered, submitting to a superior will. “...Fuck me.”
Extract 2
Releasing his nipple and withdrawing the switch, I stood back and admired again his
stunning ass. A moment later the air was cut with a hiss, and the switch came thudding
down onto his already red cheeks.
He bucked with the shock – the sudden change from petting to violence – and
instinctively he raised his hands off of the bonnet in a futile attempt at protection.
“Put those back down! NOW!!!” I snarled.
He obeyed, too afraid, and too excited to resist.
“I warned you already. DO NOT LIFT YOUR HANDS OFF OF THE CAR!”
SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
The switch struck him twice again leaving three angry welts across his rear,
straddling his now tightly clenched crack.
"Spread your legs wider and keep them straight," I ordered.
He automatically did.
I moved the switch to my left hand and pushed my right hand between his wide parted
legs, crushing his balls before grasping his cock and squeezing the shaft with my fingers
and palm; pleasantly surprised at what I encountered.
“You’re still hard, Barry – you’re very hard, my lad. You’re loving every second of
this, aren’t you? This isn’t a trial any more so you can enjoy my cock up your arse. This
is a thrill on its own. Yes?”
“Mmmmmh!”
“Oh sorry, Barry. Let me help you out there.”
I pulled the briefs from his mouth. He gulped in some air then panting was all that
I heard.
“I asked you a question, Barry. Did you enjoy getting smacked? Are you enjoying me
beating you with this switch?”
SWOOSH! SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
Three vicious strokes: one to the right, one to the left and one in the middle
leaving a stripe across his glistening gulley.
“Aaaaargh! Ah! Ah!”
“Answer me, Barry.”
“Yes... No... I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Yes... No... Will you still fuck me if you stop?”
“No. If we stop now – I take you home.”
“Then don’t stop.”
“You want me to beat you more?”
“I...”
“It’s one or the other, Barry. Now what do you want?”
“I want you to beat me more.”
“That sounded suspiciously like some order. Try again!”
“I want you to beat me more, please... Please, don’t stop. Do whatever you want...
just don’t stop.”
His words were music to my ears, and my cock was throbbing at the plea in his voice
– his total submission to my will. This lad was a revelation! It was so tempting to whip
out my dick and give him a quick fucking, relieve some of the burning lust that I felt.
But I resisted and channelled all my longing into the trashing that then ensued.
Extract 3
Conrad carried on with the flogging; the whip striking Daniel next on his lower
back, leaving a pattern of red welts behind it. The blows were vicious; the whip swooshing
through the air to land on every part of Daniel’s back, cutting the skin and making him
bleed, causing him cry out hysterically. Twenty, perhaps thirty blows rained down on him
until he was hanging limply from the chains, exhausted from the flogging, his hysterics
reduced to a pathetic whimper – he had no energy left to cry. All the while the slaves had
chewed aggressively at his nipples so that they were bleeding as well.
Daniel looked like he could take no more, but Conrad was far from finished.
Another snap of his fingers and the slaves stood back from Daniel and one of them
handed Conrad a crop. A moment later it came thudding down on Daniel’s ass.
WHACK!
Daniel screamed out in utter agony – his mind re-awoken and focused to this new
type of torture. The blow to his ass was not all that severe but the lad seemed
particularly sensitive to it. I surmised that Conrad had rarely beaten Daniel’s ass in the
past, preferring to keep those beautiful buttocks flawless for his visual pleasure and his
fucking. This part of the punishment would therefore be particularly poignant and painful.
Conrad appeared to care little for his slave’s distress as he administered more blows.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
The crop struck repeatedly at Daniel’s twitching buttocks.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
The battering continued until Daniel’s ass cheeks were thoroughly flogged. He was
screaming for mercy throughout. Blow after blow rained down on him from his master whose
wrath seemed to know no limits. Daniel was reduced to hysterical sobbing, and was begging
forgiveness, begging his master to stop, but Conrad paid him no heed.
I was intrigued to know what crime the boy had committed to deserve such a
flogging and public humiliation.
Charles was nearby; I could see he was enjoying the flogging intensely; his hand
was rubbing his crotch, stroking his huge dick which lay under his trousers, looking
forward to the moment he could whip it out and add to Daniel’s distress by ramming it up
his battered ass. I told Barry to go crawl over, so as not to obstruct anyone’s view of
the stage, and ask Charles to come see me. Barry did so, attracting a fair bit of
attention in the process, which was quite a feat given what was happening in the cage.
Extract 4
“You took one hell of a beating last weekend, young man. You obviously can handle a
lot of pain – which is good – your life from here onwards is going to include a lot of
pain!”
Then Roger’s hand was on the swell of Barry’s denim clad ass, groping the mounds.
“I bet this arse took one hell of a pounding as well, if you were the guest of Mr.
Daley. That man does like to fuck; as of course do I. You saw that for yourself in the
club – soon you will be experiencing my fucking at first hand.”
Roger paused to let Barry absorb the stated intent. Then he emphasised the point by
holding him by the hips and grinding his crotch into Barry’s denim covered ass, making
sure he could feel the erect cock.
“I bet he have fucked you like this,” Roger growled, getting well into the part,
“tied and gagged. A game the pair of you played. Games – that’s all Ralph Daley knows...
Me – I play for real.”
Roger came back round to face Barry and in one rapid movement he stripped the duck
tape from his mouth. Barry let out a yelp once his mouth was freed, then glared at Roger,
panting in fear.
“What are you going to do to me?” Barry asked, his voice trembling.
“A lot more than Ralph Daley did, that’s for sure,” replied Roger, his voice now
frighteningly manic. “Silly fool that he is - I saw you walk out on him. What a joke the
man is! You wouldn’t have done that to me, young man. You wouldn’t have dared.”
“This is wrong,” Barry mumbled; then he clutched at a straw. “You can’t do this. I
know about your code. You can’t touch me without permission.”
Roger laughed in Barry’s face. “Oh can’t I?”
Roger emphasised his point by unfastening Barry’s jeans and pushing his hand down to
have a feel at his cock.
“I can do what I like to you!” Roger yelled. “I’m not bound by any code, not outside
of the club; and even if I were – you have no master to say no. Not now.”
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