A Piercing Aquaintance

When Paul awakened in the morning he realized he was shackled upon his limbs, and his waist too this time, to the steel frame of the bed. The bonds were lined nicely with sheep skin or some white furry hide, but securely designed with locks upon each cuff; so, he wasn’t going anywhere till his keepers let him.

He at first didn’t know where he was, looking about the room with sunny morning light, as the deep sleep wore off. He slowly pieced together the previous night and past few days, and he contemplated his situation and what his own mouth had gotten him into. 

He cursed himself for not just going to the police, but then thought of Master Charles and how he’d actually felt toward the man before all this began. How he’d actually been seduced into agreeing and desiring with a hard on, much he was experiencing; as, the guy did turn him on. 

He pulled upon his morning wood a few times just thinking of His solid big body and leather jacket, masculine self assured attitude. 

He wondered if Master Charles had anything to do with those who raped him at the sex store on the freeway. Certainly it was suspicious to Paul that the first guy seemed to be expecting them. He also wondered what web site it was that the Muslim guy found, that collected such slave information. ‘Could there really be such an open means for these leather ‘Masters’ to keep control and ownership of  their slaves? Or was it just the criminal network in these parts sticking  together? 

He was hit with a pang of hopelessness as he contemplated  the response of the two police persons, and those claims from Master Charles that he’d already gotten his mother’s permission to keep him; but mostly from  the recollection of his being returned as a 'slave’ of all things. 

Paul had  thought he’d successfully been emancipated from parental authority a year earlier after release from the state juvenile detention center for selling fake identification and drivers licenses, and after he moved in with Todd the meth head.  

His mother had just remarried, but to a man no more supportive of Paul than his real father, who had actually done nothing to help him out of jail. 

This new ‘father’ had told him he planned to send him to Anniwaki, a camp to rehabilitate gays and delinquent boys. Rumors were, among some of his friends, that it was run by a Bible thumping pervert who routinely molested his new inmates by butt banging  them on their first night. He’d never gone back home after that. 

Paul recalled the scorn of the officer while in the van; and he fantasized getting vengeance if he should see him again. He balled his little hands into fists, and gnashed his teeth. He told himself he needed karate lessons, first thing, once he was out of this mess.   

The chains leading from his bonds were liberal, so that he could turn left or right on his sides into a fetal position, but he could not leave the bed.

His condition as a prisoner was re-established along with his nakedness — but, Paul felt really quite satisfied as one having had great sex, even if it was not of his choosing. He was conflicted  and marveled he could actually want his current position; somewhat affirmed by his boner for Master Charles. It hadn’t abated.

Excepting his sore anus, he had a feeling of pleasure, of exhilaration even. He thought in recollection of that movie Gone With the Wind’ he’d seen with a girl friend, Janice, of Scarlet O’Hara stretching that final morning in bliss before Rhett left; Rhett not giving a damn, of her change in heart. 

Paul was in bondage in contrast, and Master Charles then entered at the door way with out so much as a good morning.

‘’I’m sorry I took Your Harley, Master!’’ Paul meekly offered. 

That he was bound wasn’t really an issue, as Paul understood that bondage is a common practice with Master/slave relations — and punisment.

Master Charles pulled up a chair, but before he sat he ripped the comforter and top sheet from  the bed covering Paul. 

Naked, hairless and vulnerable, Paul curled up.

‘’ Stretch out and Lay flat’’ commanded Master Charles, and Paul did so.

He grabbed  the boy’s penis and directed the cock to Paul’s face and told him to pee into his own mouth if he could, otherwise he’d have to lay in his own wet pee all day — ‘his choice.

‘’ I can’t even get any out’, complained Paul. His sense of boundaries had locked his bladder’s valve, even though it was hurting with a need to pee. He was also flustered, not expecting this activity at all. But what could he expect?

‘’ C’mon faggot, don’t let me hold it up.’’ 

Paul almost entered a protest to being called ‘faggot’, thinking he’d tell Master Charles that he was bisexual, and ,in fact, planned  to stop being gay altogether. 'That he planned to finish high school, go to college, and get married; but he thought it'd be better if he’d do that later, looking upon Master Charles expression -- that scared him.

Paul slowly let first a trickle; then a flood squirted over his head, shocking Paul at the uncertain staccato release. It liberally splattered upon him.  He stopped as Master Charles continued to hold it and Paul became erect. Paul opened his mouth wide after a few more long moments; as if accepting the humiliation with a new found desire finally; as Master Charles aimed. The flow began again, first missing as at first, but then, with Master’s Charles aim, the flow entered Paul’s out stretched tongue and gaping mouth. 

‘’ Well, swallow bitch!’’ 

Paul gulped and then started coughing, piss everywhere.

Master Charles unbuckled, unzipped, and dropped his jeans, then straddled the bonered boy. He peed first upon Paul’s chest, then face, and holding cheeks tight, pressing cock to mouth, peed till over flowing.

‘’Swallow!’’

 Paul rolled over coughing again; then Charles spread the boy’s ass cheeks and peed upon his pucker. 

Master Charles fingered it, and admired the nice pick color and firmness; then, after furiously slapping upon the slave's butt, became hard himself to nine inches, and using spit pushed his cock in, and then continued peeing into Paul’s rectum.

‘’Ahh, I’ve been holding that!’’ He fucked upon it for a few minutes while pushing Paul's face into  the piss of the sheets.

Paul then turned and attempted to get the Master’s cock in his wanton mouth, but Master C pulled back and got off the bed.

‘’ You are being punished, and it’ll be a few weeks before you get to suck my cock, slave.’’

Paul flushed red, confused. 

‘’Well, you do have some sense of humiliation — for a slave … property.’’

‘’When are you gonna let me go?’’ Paul whimpered.

‘’You still think this is some episode that’ll end, where you can go back to your silly nowhere life and self.  You are a property; MINE, your life, as you thought, is over. There is no ‘you’, or ‘Paul’ anymore! Forever, in fact. It was your choice, boy. I hold the keys now, and your life is all mapped out already, slave — Some one else will forever be your Master!

Actually, you may wind up in Afghanistan as a slave there, if I follow through with an agreement I made to get your thieving ass back here — I was really pissed off with you slave; so, now your life depends on how well your Master can deal with that.  

Some slaves actually come to enjoy their servitude, as a blessing. We’ll see after some years. One thing is certain, ‘Paul’, is dead.

Later today those numbers, still readable on that ass, will be tattooed permanently; so, that young fanny, belonging completely to me, will always have a return postage — as you’ve already seen’’

The new slave began crying. Wailing in fact like a girl. Master Charles put a caboose on that with an abrupt slap across his face. His face scrunched into an ugly mask as from a grecian drama. The teen slave curled again into a fetal position — to which he was even denied that self pity. 

Master Charles easily pulled the slack of the chains to his bonds till the slave was forced, one naked limb at a time, spread eagle, face up. The new property did look very much a tasty treat still glistening from its pee bath. 

The dildo from the night before was then pushed between the slave boy’s hairless naked legs, lubed with a liberal dollop of Vaseline. It was then shoved slowly, though painfully, into slave’s ass. Slave realized he was fucked; but he got another intense erection even while he bawled, red faced, laying in his and Master’s piss.

The tattoo artist arrived late in the afternoon wearing a face mask and himself covered with tattoos; seen upon his neck and forearms. He carried his tools of the trade in what appeared to be a doctors satchel. The slave was aroused from his renewed slumber, unshackled, showered, and ass liberally doused with alcohol, then held over a small table. A ball gag was inserted in his mouth.

‘’What a lovely bubble ass’’. Remarked the tattooist as he gently fondled the soft flesh as he arranged a chair between the boy’s spread legs.

The tattooist made small talk for a few minutes as he freehand drew the numbers in a curve along the crease in the property’s right ass cheek, and encircled the slave identification number with a contour of a penis with crude hairy balls, and other end where the cum spurting big head terminated at this anus. It hurt; so, slave yelped, and he had to be reminded more than a few times to hold still. The slave now had its first tattoo --And official designation as property. 

While there, the tattooist inserted another PA of a larger gauge than first applied. The slave had to be bound spread eagle again; since, the wound had started to mend. He ignored the slave boy’s plentiful tears and never did even ask his name.

He gave some advice to Master Charles upon how to get the smell of urine out of sheets as he looked upon the slave, who was spread eagle; while Alpha attached chain to PA taut to nipple clamps. 

He was paid in cash, and with thanks, he turned and walked out, still masked.

The sheets were changed and the plastic liner of the bed was wiped down by Alpha slave who whistled as he worked.