Master Wang made me go on my hands and knees to clean up the blood and cum on the floor. He gave me a few paper towels but made me lick it mostly. If I stopped for a second, he kicked me in the balls or on my ruined ass, and a couple of times he stamped on my hands.
Master Wes came in with the spike-mat and placed it on a small plastic chair in the corner of the room. When there was no more cleaning up to do, I had to crawl to that chair.
I was ordered to sit again on those horrible spikes – each little plastic point seemed to chew into my ass-wounds. My wounds had been crudely and very painfully soldered and had stopped bleeding, but I could feel some of the wounds reopening when Master Wang tightened the straps which went across the tops of my thighs and under the seat of the chair forcing my ass down hard on to the spikes. “Did you enjoy those hooks, criminal slave – how does your ass feel now?” I knew I had to answer: “Thank you for asking, Master Wang, my ass hurts a lot but that's okay because it's getting the punishment it needs. I am grateful to you, and to Master Wes, and to the whole Frat, for my punishment. The hooks were very painful. I can still feel severe pain from the hooks – the pain is deep inside both of my buttocks, Master”.
“Are you giving it shit to eat or diarrhoea?”, asked Master Wes, like it was the most normal question in the world.
“Neither now – it'll learn about eating and drinking in the fucking filth bucket tomorrow – those boys are bringing stuff from Charlie’s farm.”
“Fuck, that was so disgusting last time.”
“Yeah, they’re going to make it eat pig-shit, that’s for sure – and that’s just the beginning. It’ll probably be worse than last time.”
Masters Wang and Wes left the room, still talking about the horrors of tomorrow, the I would have to face, but soon they were out of earshot.
I was just left, tied tightly to a plastic chair, and with spikes giving increasing severe pain to my tortured ass. I tried to sit absolutely still but, whichever position I chose, those little plastic spikes found cuts in my ass to torture. I was there for about an hour when the Frat leader and Master Charlie finally came into the room.
“Bedtime, criminal slave!” said Master Charlie.
The Frat leader took three fearsome-looking metal screw-clamps from a shelf and casually attached them to each nipple and the tip of my penis. As he tightened them, I screamed from the new intense pain.
“Shut the fuck up, filth! I was going to take them off upstairs but now you’ve made all that noise, you can keep them on all fucking night.”
I knew better by now than to plead so I said quietly “Yes, Master, Thank you, Master.”
“That one on its dick should certainly stop it playing with itself”, Master Charlie laughed. “Yeah, that plus the fact that we’ll cut its dick off, slice by slice, if it does try to wank!”
At last, they untied me from the chair and the spike-mat. I was marched upstairs and literally shoved into my dog-cage. “I’m sure you’ll get some visits in the night, criminal slave. Jacoby and Paul have gone out drinking. I expect they’ll come and see you when they get back, to piss or puke or stub out their cigarettes. Don’t forget: whatever they give you to eat or drink goes into your stomach, criminal slave – a mess here in the morning means extra and severe punishment. If one of them pukes, you eat it. If we find any puke in the morning, because you haven’t eaten it all, I’ll use Wang’s hammer and you’ll lose at least three of your teeth.” I started to shake – I couldn’t face eating puke but I definitely couldn’t face Master Wang’s hammer again.
Master Charlie stayed behind to make sure I ate my horrible slave-lumps, and repeated the Frat leader's instruction to eat any puke and drink any piss. "Paul always overdoes it", he chuckled. "You'll hate it, criminal slave!"
It was two or three hours later when I heard drunk voices coming up the stairs. “I shouldn’t have had that fucking pizza”, said Master Paul, as he and Master Jacoby lurched into my room and over to my dog-cage. “Let’s piss on it together, Jacko”.
“Open your fucking mouth, criminal slave”.
Master Jacoby had started to piss on my face and into my mouth, but Master Paul was still fumbling with his zip. Suddenly, Master Paul shouted “I’m gonna puke. Fuck!”. Horrible stinking yellow bile-covered remains of a garlicky pizza started drooling from his mouth, a little at first and then lumps of it. Then he lent right over me. He vomited into the cage. He vomited in my face and on my head. He moved away a bit, and I thought he’d finished, but then he lurched forward and vomited another even bigger load on to my thighs and genitals.
“That stinks, Paul. It's gross”.
Master Paul looked straight at me: “It’s your midnight feast, isn’t it?”
“Yes Sir, thank you Sir”, I said quietly. I was covered in his puke.
Master Jacoby finished pissing on my face and moved away. Master Paul then also pissed, but more randomly – he was quite drunk.
Then they both just left the room and I knew what I was supposed to do. I had until morning to lick up all the piss I could reach and to eat the puke, if I was to avoid Master Wang’s hammer. My broken teeth had been constantly hurting since my first encounter with that horrible hammer. I hated it. I told myself that I had eaten puke before and I could do it. But Master Paul’s puke was disgusting and there was so much of it.
I had in fact eaten Eddie’s vomit back at the house and I’d somehow managed to keep it down. But there was much more of Master Paul’s vomit and it was all over me, and it stank terribly. Also, just yesterday, I’d been unable to keep down the pile of old vomit they tried to make me eat when I was cleaning the Frat washroom, and I'd been punished for it - but a beating was one thing and Master Wang's cold metal tooth-hammer was quite another.
For an hour, I just sat there, breathing hard and weeping. My mind wandered. There was simply no end to the horror and no good way out.
I was brought out of my trance by Master Wes needing a night-time piss, but he just came into the room, looked at the mess and noticed the smell. He just said “Fuck” and went downstairs to the washroom.
I shook my cage in frustration and despair, accidentally also shaking the clamps on my nipples and dick, and so they again made me yelp with the sudden extra pain. No one woke up or I probably would have been beaten there and then. One tiny bit of luck in this terrifying frat-house.
I decided what I had to do. I would somehow force myself to eat the puke.
Yes, I started slowly to eat what Master Paul had thrown up an hour before. I sucked, licked, chewed and swallowed that cold Frat-boy puke. I tried to swallow without tasting or even looking at what I was being forced to eat in the half-light of my room. I wanted to lick, suck and swallow as quickly as possible. But unfortunately there were quite a few big lumps of thrown-up pizza, which I had no alternative but to bite and to taste thoroughly. I tasted Master Paul’s bile, his regurgitated alcohol burnt my mouth and I couldn't avoid the taste of his regurgitated garlic - I guess he'd used garlic dressing which had blended with his bile.
Master Paul’s stomach probably wasn’t as unhealthy as Master Wang’s with its endless supply of diarrhoea or Master Chris’s with its shit that had even made Eddie recoil (and he didn’t have to eat it). In fact, Master Paul’s main problem was that he had obviously got drunk and eaten too much. Pieces of his pizza had sat in his stomach and marinated there. He couldn’t hold it in because he was drunk, so he had puked out of his mouth. It had gathered a nasty coating of thick salty mucus, which I also tasted strongly, on the way back up through his throat. Now I was covered in that pizza and was eating it, second-hand and embellished. I tasted distinct half-chewed pieces of tomato, undigested pieces of anchovy and indeterminate green vegetables full of bile and covered in mucus. The whole experience was horrendous in every way. I scraped Frat-boy sick from my hair and from my arms, and even from my dick and ball-sack. I pushed every bit of that stinking sick into my mouth, and I swallowed it.
It took me an hour, maybe more. By the end, I had eaten all the solids and most of the runny bile, but my dog-cage and my body still smelled of vomit, so I knew there was a chance I’d be punished for that, but I couldn’t go on licking. I also licked up as much piss as possible, although some of it had fallen outside my dog-cage and I couldn't reach it - in the world was in now, I would probably be punished for that too. Hopefully, I had done enough to avoid an encounter with Master Wang's hammer.
With puke and piss tastes in my mouth, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the bare metal of my dog-cage.
In the early morning, the lights in my room came on abruptly, and I quickly remembered – and definitely still tasted – everything from the night before. It was the Frat leader. “It stinks in here, criminal slave. We’ll punish you for that. Eddie wants to whip you so, when Ahmed’s finished with him, that’s what he’ll do. I don’t think he’s ever used a whip before, so it’ll probably get you everywhere but, knowing Eddie, he’ll probably aim for your balls.”
The Frat leader looked down at me with disgust, and then smiled “Your balls are swollen anyway, so Eddie will have some fun if he whips you down there. He’ll have spent the night serving Ahmed in every possible way, and I think Ahmed spanked him again too, so he’ll be ready to take it all out on you and your balls.”
Master Jacoby came in next “Fuck, the stench! Paul puked on it. Uurgh!” He opened the windows to let in the freezing air.
“Yeah, let’s get it down to the shower”, said the Frat leader. “Cold shower time, slave.” He opened my dog-cage. “Out – I’m not touching you – get down the stairs – on all fours.”
Aching everywhere, I crawled out, and made it down to the washroom. I was told to go into the dirtiest shower and stand up. The Frat leader squirted soap all over me and switched on the cold water. I had to position myself directly under that ice-cold shower. “Wash, cunt”, Master Jacoby ordered with a smile spreading across his face as he watched me squirm in the freezing water.
No towel afterwards of course. I was now ordered into the meeting room where I’d been paddled and fucked the previous evening. The Frat leader tied me by my balls to a metal pole in the corner of the room and tied my hands to a metal loop high on the other side of the pole. Finally, he attached an uncomfortably wide leg-spreader. “Right, you’ll stay there until Eddie’s ready to whip you.”
He turned to Master Jacoby “I’m letting Eddie off having to be naked outside today – I'm allowing him shorts, sandals and a tee-shirt – no underclothes so he’ll still hate it. I’ve also told him he’s got to prepare everyone’s breakfasts for three days, starting this morning, and clean up afterwards. He's only getting cold porridge for breakfast for the three days. To top it up, Wes is going to make him do naked press-ups and naked running on the spot, to entertain us while we eat. He's a pretty sub, nice and smooth and blond, and he’ll probably still be hard from whipping the slave – it’ll be a laugh and a turn-on to see Eddie running on the spot, and sweating away, with a big erection, while we eat the food he’s prepared and relax!”
“So when’s he whipping the criminal slave?
“Oh, he’ll be down in about ten minutes – Ahmed might come with him. The slave’s screams will tell everyone it’s waking-up time.”
Sure enough, Eddie, still compulsorily naked of course, showed up a few minutes later. Master Ahmed, Master Quentin and a couple of others also came along to watch my whipping, and to stare at Eddie. The Frat leader took down a four-foot whip from a high shelf. “This one’s vicious, Eddie, a dragon whip. The main whip is platted leather – it thuds and bites the flesh, leaving thick welts and bruises. The twelve-inch leather tip is flexible and hits the skin at an incredible speed, stinging and biting like only a whip can. The criminal slave will suffer, Eddie. Its punishment is to receive twenty lashes from you, which is pretty severe on top of its punishments yesterday. It’ll definitely bleed – I've got the coagulant spray here, which will solve that problem but add to the stings. Stand out to its left – I suggest ten on the shoulders and ten on the buttocks – you should be able to get the flexible part well into its crack if you aim right – thighs, legs and balls are all decent targets too.”
“What about its front?”
“You can’t really get a good shot with that pole in the way. It’s an amazing torture to flog a criminal slave’s front - wait till you hear the scream when that whip connects with its dick! You can do it for sure some time in the next few days!"
The Frat leader then rubbed his hands in some oil, and kissed Eddie lightly on his mouth, and he worked the oil with slow strong strokes into Eddie’s rapidly hardening dick and said “Enjoy yourself, Eddie”. Then the Frat leader handed over him the whip, and I was shaking because I knew that Eddie would be out for maximum pain.
Twenty from a dragon whip from an experienced whipmaster would be agony, but it would be focused. Eddie didn’t really know what he was doing. Full-force cuts hit my shoulders, lower back, ass, balls (twice), thighs, calves, and even my feet. They curved around my waist and reached my stomach. One slashed my right upper arm and made a nasty and painful cut in the tender muscle there. One cut into my right nipple, which had been clamped all night, and made it bleed, so I shrieked uncontrollably as blood ran down my chest; the Frat leader, who didn’t want too much mess immediately sprayed it with coagulant, which increased the pain ten times; only the pole stopped me from collapsing.
When Eddie finished and rushed off to prepare the Frat’s breakfast, Master Quentin was given the job of releasing me from what he called “the whipping pole”. He made me crawl through to the dining room where he tied me to a hard wooden chair. I couldn't see any particular reason for me being in the dining room - I suppose I’d been brought in there just to humiliate Eddie who hated being punished in front of me. He was frying eggs and preparing cereals and porridge – his own porridge was on the side by a slightly open window deliberately being allowed to get cold as part of his punishment. Soon he would be doing his exercises while the others ate.
Of course, they didn't leave me alone completely. Master Ahmed for no obvious reason came over and jabbed my dick with a fork – it hurt a lot. Master Quentin gave the little bleeding fork-holes in my dick and the whip stripes on my shoulders and nipple a harsh rub-down with some sea-salt, pushing the salt into the wounds and even opening a couple on my back and the cut on my arm, so the salting would be more painful.
Meanwhile, the main focus of attention, Eddie, wasn’t having an easy time with so many masters. He cooked and served, knowing he’d be punished if he slacked, but the Frat-boys kept slapping his ass (which was still pretty bruised and red), grabbing his dick, squeezing his balls, and twisting his nipples. He certainly wasn’t allowed to complain. When Eddie had finally served everyone, he was told it was time for his exercise session - right in front of me. He was reminded by Master Wang that any hesitation, reluctance or failure to completewould mean a glass of diarrhoea.
“You’re doing a hundred paces of running on the spot and a hundred press-ups on the floor, right here”, said young Master Wes. “Now! Go!” At that point Eddie's dick was still glistening from the oil and still hard. As the Frat leader had predicted, he looked comical as he worked under Master Wes's direction to keep his knees high. His erection flew up and down. Then it was time for the press-ups. Master Wes told Eddie “Go down low enough to bend the tip of your dick on the floor, and then no part of your dick can touch the floor when you’re up. A hundred. Go!” After 60, Eddie slowed down noticeably. At 68, he collapsed and burst into tears: “Please, please don’t make me drink Wang’s diarrhoea. Please Sirs, I’ll do anything.”
Master Wes shook his head “That’s the punishment, Eddie”. Master Charlie objected “Won’t it make his breath stink when we want to use him tonight?” “No, it’s OK, Charlie”, said the Frat leader, “it’ll wear off in an hour or two. Anyway, young Eddie needs putting in his place. A dose of Wang's diarrhoea will honestly do him good. I need a shit, so we’ll sit Eddie and the criminal slave next to each other in the washroom. I’ll shit on a pair of Eddie’s boxers and Wang can go and get a nice full glass of his stinking diarrhoea. Quent, can you and Wes get the criminal slave into the washroom – that chair will do for it – Eddie, bring another chair for yourself. Put them next to each other and we can watch the criminal slave eat my shit - I think there'll be quite a bit of it - while Eddie drinks Wang's diarrhoea.
"Quent, please can you cane the slave afterwards for leaving a mess around its dog-cage and then put it back in the cage where it can wait for its session with the filth bucket this afternoon.” Then he announced to everyone, “The farm-boys will be here at 2”.
Then it was all business. Eddie looked utterly miserable as he went to get a pair of his boxers for the Frat leader to shit on, and then went back to the kitchen to do all the clearing up. At the same time, I had to crawl to the washroom, dragging my chair. Master Quentin tied me to it. Master Wang went to fetch a glass of his seemingly endless supply of disgusting diarrhoea, for Eddie to drink. The Frat leader took Eddie’s boxers and went off to take his shit on them.
In ten minutes, everyone reassembled in the washroom. Someone had brought a chair for Eddie and put it next to mine. Master Charlie asked “Who’s getting Eddie tonight?” The Frat leader replied that Eddie “would probably have to spend an hour or so with the criminal slave in its dog-cage if he doesn’t show total respect today - no pouting, Eddie! Otherwise he’s due to spend the night with Master Quentin”, and he added “If he does, fucking dominate the boy and fuck his brains out, Quent!”
The Frat leader had produced two solid shit-logs, which now sat on what had recently been a clean pair of Eddie’s boxers. Of course, the order came to "Eat that shit". I had to chew a lot and quickly – there were many hard lumps and I had to swallow some of them whole. The taste swirled around my mouth as disgusting lumps of Frat-boy shit disintegrated as I swallowed them. Coming on top of the vomit I'd eaten earlier, I couldn’t stop burping. The burps filled my mouth with the taste of the Frat leader’s solid waste, and even of Master Paul's vomit, again and again.
When I had finished my punishment feeding, Master Wang handed a big plastic mug to Eddie. I could see small dark brown turds floating on top of Wang’s churning liquid bowel-waste. “Any hesitation means a night with the slave in the dog-cage, Eddie”, warned the Frat leader. Eddie drank down Master Wang’s diarrhoea.
Ten seconds later, Eddie sicked it up on the floor. Everyone laughed. “OK everyone, Eddie did what he was told”, said the Frat leader, raising his voice. Master Wang to more general laughter added, “yeah but puking up good Chinese diarrhoea confirms he's racist.”
The Frat leader then dealt with me: “After it’s been caned – a dozen strokes, Quent – the criminal slave will use its hands and mouth to clean the floor. It’ll have to put Eddie’s puke, fucking stinking puked diarrhoea originally out of Wang’s ass, on Eddie’s boxers, the ones I did my shit on. The slave can then carry the boxers upstairs and put them down next to its cage until we decide it’s time for it to eat the stuff. It’ll make it think about what’s to come.”
Everybody except Master Quentin then went off to get ready for classes, including Eddie who looked distinctly pale as he went to get dressed at last. I, of course, stayed naked.
“OK, criminal slave, I’m going to untie you and then you lean over the back of the chair. I’ll re-tie your legs to the chair for your caning. So long as you stay down, I’ll keep it to the dozen. I’m using this cane – it's not super-heavy but it’s got a good sting – you won’t like it over your whip welts, which are really showing up now, but that’s not my problem.” He whistled the cane in the air a couple of times and then got me into position.
Although he wasn’t as aggressive as the Frat-boys who’d paddled me the previous evening, and didn’t seem to hate me like Eddie, still Master Quentin caned hard and it hurt a lot, especially, as he’d predicted, when he connected with my whip welts. After a dozen firm cane-strokes, he actually took me completely by surprise when he said “Fuck-time”, lowered his trousers and boxers and just drove himself into my asshole. He grunted a bit and came deep inside me in a minute or two. Even though I’d been well and truly opened up, this was so unexpected that I moved around more than he wanted me to, so he gave me three more with the cane before I was allowed to straighten up and thank Master Quentin for caning and fucking me.
“OK, slave, there are Eddie’s boxers – they still look shitty from before but never mind. Use your hands to get that puked-up diarrhoea into one place, and then pile it all on to the boxers. Carry the whole lot upstairs without spilling anything and put it next to your dog-cage, near where your face usually goes.” I was then to come back downstairs to lick up anything that was left on the floor. If I spilt anything on the way, Master Quentin said he’d give me another caning, half of it on my balls, so I was very careful. To my great relief, after a bit of sucking and floor-licking, he ordered me back up to my dog-cage, and cuffed my hands behind my back: “I’m not going to be blamed for you wanking, so you’ll have to put up with being cuffed.”
Then he left. They all left. I lay on the cold metal, next to puked-up diarrhoea, and started to think about the afternoon and the filth-bucket.
It must have been three hours before the Frat started to return in ones and twos. For quite a time, they ignored me. I picked up snippets of conversation about the hell-hole and the filth-bucket. Someone talked about getting things out of a freezer.
There was a murmur of excitement when a truck rolled up outside. I heard a dog barking, possibly two or three dogs, and there was evidently something being unloaded and carried to somewhere outside.
They came for me half an hour or so after that.
Two boys came in with Master Charlie. They turned out to be delivering from his farm and were keen to see a criminal slave punished "as bad as possible". Master Wes, the Frat leader and other Frat-boys started appearing in my room as well, including Eddie looking sheepish in unseasonal sandals, shorts and a tee-shirt.
Master Charlie started speaking “There’ll be no mercy for you this afternoon, criminal slave. The slightest disobedience and my burning cigar goes straight on to the tip of your nasty little penis.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re coming out of that dog-cage and going downstairs and outside, still naked and crawling. Then you’ll climb a ladder on to the flat roof above our special hell-hole room. We’ll then tie you to our winch and lower you head-first with your hands tied behind your back, like they are now, into a big plastic bucket we keep in that hell-hole – yes, slave, the filth-bucket. It’s a very big bucket, made for mixing cement. It’s big enough to take the whole of you.
“These nice boys from my farm have mixed a special paste for you and put it in the bucket. It’s about eighty per cent pig-shit and twenty per cent dog-shit with a few human turds and a cowpat or two thrown in. It smells so bad that we’re all going to wear gas masks even on the flat roof, even Eddie who’s on a punishment regime. You’re definitely the only one going into that hell-hole and you’re going naked and head-first.
“When you’re in that filth-bucket, you have a job. It’s not a nice job for you, criminal slave, but it’s one you deserve. You’ll be looking for little souvenirs from the last criminal slave, tasty little souvenirs which you’ll have to eat. You’ll find out for yourself what they are.
“Got it, criminal slave?”
Master Quentin had picked up the cane again, so I quickly replied. “Thank you, Master Charlie, for punishing me like I deserve. I am a filthy criminal slave. I deserve to be put in the filth-bucket.”
“OK,” said the Frat leader, “stop shaking and get out of that dog-cage and down the stairs. Crawl! Now!”
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