I was left in my cage till the Frat started coming back after morning classes. A young Frat boy called Wes, did come in earlier. He had evidently had a late night drinking and no classes this morning – he was a slight boy with unbrushed wavy brown hair and a bit of acne. He was wearing just the shorts he’d slept in. He strolled over to my cage, got out his dick, and pissed on me. There was no ceremony about it. I was just a convenient urinal. He farted, making a bad smell, but made no attempt to shit on me. Then he spat on my face and just meandered sleepily back out, presumably to go back to sleep.
My hair and face were wet with Wes’s urine and spit. Wes’s piss had been a smelly morning piss and the drops on my lips and in my mouth were acrid with an alcohol back-taste. Compared with what had happened to me in the Frat and before, it was an unpleasant but not a torturous experience. It was just the utter humiliation which made me break down sobbing at that moment. A teenager needed a piss. To get to the normal toilets, he needed to go downstairs so, to save himself trouble, he had pissed on me. I was a toilet, nothing more. It wasn’t particularly cruel. I hadn’t even had to do anything. It was so simple but also so degrading. I sobbed but, of course, no one could hear me sobbing and no one would have cared anyway.
Wes and the rest of the Frat left me alone, cramped, filthy with dried piss, in pain from the burning, the dildo, the double-fucking and the caning. I just lay there on bare metal waiting for the horrors I was sure were coming in the afternoon and evening.
At last the door flew open and Masters Charlie, Wang and Chris came in. Master Wang told me “You’re getting out of there, criminal slave, and going one floor down to clean the toilets and shower stalls. Masters Wes and Charlie will supervise you. You’ll do it well. They both have whips and Master Charlie has his hot cigars. You’ll be given some cloths but you’ll use your tongue when instructed. Got it?”
“Yes, Master, thank you Master”. Master Chris picked up a cane, and I took the hint: “Masters, thank you for giving me the honour of cleaning the Frat’s shower-stalls and toilet. I appreciate it.”
“When you’ve finished cleaning, you’ll be shown the hell-hole. The last criminal slave collapsed when he entered the hell-hole. The hell-hole stinks so much that we sealed the door from the washrooms, so you’ll have to enter from the flat roof outside. We lift the manhole cover and you enter head first and handcuffed – we wear gas-masks and stay outside but of course you get no protection and work inside. All your work in the hell-hole will be with your mouth. There’s no point in it – it's pure punishment – but there are cameras so we’ll know if you’re slacking. Your job is to pick up the stuff we’ve thrown in there for the last couple of months and sort it out. There are shelves and you’ll separate out the different kinds of shit (dog, horse, human and so on) and there’s vomit which will need a shelf of its own. Then there’s the rats – there are definitely one or two live ones and probably some dead ones. There’s plenty of food garbage in various stages of rotting.”
Master Chris laughed and joined in “You’ll enjoy sorting that lot out with that mouth of yours, slave, a good punishment. Of course, we’ll make you mess it up again afterwards, so you can spend more time there. Maybe we’ll make you spend a night there in pitch dark – that would be fun for you, wouldn’t it, filth-slave?”
“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I deserve to spend time in your hell-hole. It would be an honour to work in the Frat’s hell-hole”
“And”, Master Charlie added “We can piss, shit and spit on you from the flat roof, while you’re working. And you’ll learn what it’s like to eat from the filth-bucket ...” They all started laughing. I didn’t want to think about what might be in a filth-bucket.
“OK”, Master Charlie continued. “Let’s get it moving”.
I half-squirmed and was half-dragged out of my cage and ordered to stand. Master Wes handcuffed me and pushed me towards the door and then stood clear while Master Chris caned me twice “Get a fucking move-on, criminal slave, or you’ll feel more of this cane and more of Charlie’s cigar.” I walked out and didn’t know where to go. “OK”, said Master Charlie, clearly irritated, “Wes, can you attach the dragging rope super-tightly round its dick? It obviously has to be fucking pulled everywhere.” Master Wes dived back into the cage-room and came back with some very rough-looking brown rope.
The way Master Wes tightened that rope round my dick. which had been tortured with the match in it all night and then been trampled and crushed, was truly cruel. He reduced the width of my dick-shaft, where he tied the rope, to little more than three or four millimetres. As he tested it, to make sure it didn’t slide or move, I fell to the floor and begged him to loosen it. “Fucking slave,” said Wes “I was going to take it off when we got to the washrooms, but now I’ll leave it for an extra five minutes. Learn, criminal slave, we don’t care if your dick falls off and we don’t care how much pain you’re in. Got it?”
He yanked the rope upwards pulling me on to tiptoes. I screamed, and somehow managed to say breathlessly: “Yes, Master, I get it. I am so sorry I made a fuss. I fully deserve to have my penis in terrible pain. Please make it worse by dragging me, burning me, and finding other ways to torture me.”
“Does it matter if your dick falls off?”
“No, Master, not at all”, I said quietly as I started feeling weaker.
“Get down the stairs, bitch”, said Master Chris, and hit the back of my legs with the cane. Master Wes tugged on the rope and I followed my tied-up and tortured dick to the top of the stairs, down the stairs, screaming in pain with each step-jerk, and finally along a short corridor into the main Frat washroom.
Master Charlie issued the instructions. “Most mornings, criminal slave, you’ll do washroom duty. As you can see, there are lockers, a tiled floor, 4 showers and 6 toilet stalls. You’ll have 90 minutes to make sure the whole place is spotless and shiny. Some of the boys aren’t so clean and we usually keep a couple of the stalls as punishment-stalls for the slave – you'll have to use your mouth and tongue in them. The whole place is kind of grimy because we haven’t had a criminal slave capable of working here for nearly a month, so you’ll have an extra 30 minutes this morning. You’ll be supervised by two of us from the Frat, and they have the freedom to beat you, piss on the floor for you to clean up, or do pretty much anything they want to you. It’s Wes and Chris today.”
The washroom hadn’t seemed too bad when I was pulled into it by the rope which was still crushing my dick-shaft. A bit musty but not filthy. I soon realised that a couple of the stalls did smell gross and that the whole place needed a good clean. Compared with the horrors of the last couple of weeks, it wasn’t too bad. Just normal, rather unpleasant, slave work. I was told to go to a cupboard and get a scrubbing brush, a pail, some detergent, and a big mop with a bucket and a big floor-cloth and to stand to attention.
A boy who’d been using one of the stalls walked past me and casually pulled on my dick-rope making me lose my balance. Then Master Chris gave me two hard cane-strokes on my ass for moving. I was soon back in my position and at attention.
“OK”, now it was Master Wes’s turn, “You’ll start by scrubbing this floor clean and then the showers. Then it’ll be the ordinary toilet-stalls and finally the dirty ones. Two hours back-breaking work, slave, and no rests. I’ll take your dick-rope off now – we don’t want your dick falling off yet – but it’ll go back on even tighter if you slow down.” I couldn’t see how it could be tighter, and I shrieked in pain as the knot crushing my dick was roughly untied and the blood flowed back. My reward from Master Wes for that was a punch in the balls, which made me double up.
“Start now”, ordered Master Chris. “You have exactly two hours till this place is inspected and demerits are awarded! On your hands and knees. Now.”
I was on my hands and knees naked. My penis was still in serious pain where the rope had crushed it and there was a wide purple band on the shaft. Master Chris was still holding his cane and I noticed that Master Wes had picked up a nasty looking rubber flogger.
“Start by scrubbing the floor, every bit. Then wipe it with the cloth. I want you on your hands and knees the whole time, cunt. Good discipline!” I reached for the pail of water and added detergent to it, put the stiff scrubbing brush into it, and maybe hesitated a second. Master Wes’s flogger smashed into my balls and ass-crack. Strands of it smashed into my overused asshole and sliced into my perineum. I stumbled forwards and started scrubbing hard. I scrubbed like my life depended on it. “Work, fucking bitch-slave", Master Wes yelled. I scrubbed that whole floor while my Masters sat on a comfortable chairs in a corner and alternately watched me and played some game on their phones.
It must have taken me almost an hour to do the floor and then I moved on to the showers where I was instructed to use a softer brush. They kept me on my hands and knees all the time, periodically standing over me or finding small faults. They gave me double or triple strokes of the cane or the flogger, very hard, at least a dozen times.
When I finished the final shower, Master Chris walked across, I thought to inspect. His shoes made marks in the shower which I knew I’d have to scrub off. Then he took out his dick and pissed all over where I’d just cleaned. Some of his piss splashed into my face and hair.
“Suck it up and then lick the floor, criminal slave. Then re-clean that whole fucking shower. You’ve got 5 minutes”.
I sucked and licked at that big yellow puddle and was still licking when Master Wes said “Five minutes up”. He came over to me. “Right foot in the air, slave. Sole upwards.” I couldn’t think for a moment what he meant and put the wrong foot up. “Double now, right foot”, he said. His horrible flogger smacked into the delicate soles of my right foot and then my left foot, twice each. “Now, fucking get on with it”, he yelled. I licked and wiped, scrubbed and wiped again, and that shower was spotless a few minutes later.
By this time, my knees were raw, and I longed to stand. But these young Masters kept me kneeling, and gave me no breaks. I cleaned the four ordinary toilet stalls. Master Chris made me lick the well-used toilet seats and rims. The taste of mixed piss made me retch, but I managed it. Both Masters made me use my fingernails to scrape off dried shit from deep inside two of the toilets, and made me lick up some piss-spills. I think it was coming up to two hours when we moved on to the dirty toilets.
When I entered the first one, still on my hands and knees, I put my hand straight into a pile of very old-looking puke-remains. It had obviously dried up but then somehow been saturated later by a big and spreading puddle of piss on the floor. The toilet seat actually had a turd stuck to it, and a quick glance into the toilet itself revealed more vomit and turds piling up. “This toilet’s blocked; You’ll have to carry the solid waste into the next toilet to flush it. Use your hands, except for that turd which you’ll put in your mouth” said Master Chris.
Master Wes lifted his flogger. To avoid further punishment if possible, I lurched forward and took the turd off the toilet seat. I was too quick this time because the turd broke in two. Half went into my mouth and half fell into the toilet. I tried not to bite into it but the half-turd in my mouth started to disintegrate. That old rotted half-turd crumbled in my mouth and turned to paste. “Fucking idiot,” said Master Chris. “Get out here and put your ass up for caning”. I got six strokes while the half-turd entered every corner of my mouth. My mouth filled with the taste of some Frat-boy's gut-rot while Master Chris caned me.
Master Chris’s final stroke was low and vicious. I spluttered. I couldn’t help it. A few pieces of rotted shit sprayed on to the clean floor. “Six from Master Wes too for that”. Somehow, I kept from spluttering more during that severe flogging.
And so it went on. Picking up filth from one toilet and depositing it in one of the toilets I had already cleaned and would now need to be cleaned again. Always on my hands and knees, which was now becoming agonising. Mostly they allowed me to move the filth with my hands but sometimes, just for a laugh, they’d make me carry the disgusting Frat-boy waste in my mouth.
A couple of Frat-boys came through to use the washroom. One deliberately spilt his piss by one of the toilets I’d cleaned. The Frat leader was next and he satisfied himself with giving me a kick in the balls and telling me to put my face in some fairly recent vomit in the second dirty toilet, to fill my mouth with it, and keep it there while Master Wes gave me another half-dozen on my balls and ass with his flogger. “Swallow it, criminal slave”. I forced the disgusting vomit down but half of it came up and I puked it into the toilet. “Hey Wes, just give it another six on its balls.” I collapsed and writhed on the filthy floor. Another kick, this time in the ribs, from the Frat leader, and then it was “back to work, cunt” from Master Chris.
In the end, I was over four hours on my hands and knees in that washroom. It was utterly degrading and disgusting, and I knew it would be repeated regularly. There was also, I knew, much worse to come. Everything about the hell-hole sounded unbearable.
Then I heard what I thought was good news from the Frat leader who had come back to inspect my work. I was still on my hands and knees. “Kiss your Masters’ feet, criminal slave, and thank us for letting you clean our washroom. Beg to do it again!”
I kissed all their shoes with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “Thank you Masters, for the honour of allowing me to clean your washroom. I am a worthless slave and only deserve to be beaten. I am not even worth one of your turds. I am not worth a drop of your piss ...” I tailed off. I was exhausted and in pain. My knees were in agony, and my ass and balls had been beaten constantly.
“There isn’t time now to go to the hell-hole, slave”, said the Frat leader. “You’ll be well-punished by the Frat for taking so long here. Masters Wes and Chris will take you out the side door into the yard for jet-washing – the water should be fucking freezing and I expect they’ll use full-power on your nasty swollen-up testicles. Then you’ll be tied to the spanking bench in the Frat’s meeting room, judged, and punished. You’ll get extra time in the hell-hole tomorrow.”
The two Frat-boy Masters didn’t want to touch me, which I couldn’t blame them for. “We’d better wash the cane and the flogger too”, said Master Chris. “You can stand up now, criminal slave. Walk between us but keep your distance, filth. Touch either of us and whatever you touch us with gets fucking chopped off, got it? Finger, dick, whatever.” “Yes, Master”.
Master Wes led the way, I went second, and Master Chris came behind. We went into a narrow corridor and exited through a side door of the Frat-house. It was very cold – I'd guess not far above freezing. As we came into the yard, which seemed to be completely unkept, the wind got up too. I definitely wasn’t looking forward to being jet-washed.
Master Wes pointed to a drain a few feet from the house and picked up the jet-wash. There was a big metal post behind the drain “Turn round, legs apart, and hold that post. If you fall down, it’ll take twice as long.”
A moment later, the full force of freezing water hit me. A jet-wash is simply not designed for human beings, but for dirty concrete or for cleaning a road, but this jet-wash was being used on my naked body. I somehow held on to that metal pole while my back and well-punished ass were pummelled and sliced by thick jets of icy water. When the water hit my balls with full force, I lost my balance. In fact, I nearly lost my mind from the intensity of the pain.
It didn’t stop.
I was rolling helplessly around on the ground. Jets of water hit my face, went up my asshole – the Frat-boys laughed at that – smashed into my tortured dick and hit my balls repeatedly and deliberately again and again.
Once, when I tried to protect my balls with my hands, Master Chris stamped on them so hard that my knuckles bled, and then he kicked my balls, increasing my agony. Master Wes washed the flogger and cane and told me to stand up facing him for a final washdown. Shivering with cold and shaking from pain and shock, I managed to stand, and Master Chris pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed me to a hook at the back of the pole. It was too high for me and I found I was standing facing the jet-wash on tiptoe. Master Wes let rip for a final time.
Then they just left me there.
“We’d better go and see if they’re ready for it”, I heard Master Wes say to Master Chris. “Yeah, anyway, we’d better let it dry off a bit before bringing it in, although they’ll probably wet it before its paddlings anyway ...”. They disappeared back inside the Frat house, leaving me naked and freezing, attached to a metal pole, expecting me to “dry off” in the biting wind.
I must have hung there for twenty minutes when Master Wes reappeared with my penis-rope. Another frat-boy unlocked my handcuffs, while Master Wes reattached that horrible rough rope, as tightly and painfully as before, taking care to attach it to exactly the same – and now very sore – place on my shaft where it had been attached before. When I shrieked in pain, Master Wes said “Yes, criminal slave, I’m going to crush the same place every time.” Then he tightened the knot and yanked it to make sure it was secure, and he started leading me to the side-door and into the Frat’s meeting room where I was to be judged and punished some more.
I yelped each time Master Wes deliberately jolted my penis-rope. Even the short walk to the Frat meeting room was torture. When I was pulled into the room, there were some surprises.
Least surprising, because I had been warned, was the collection of paddles lying on a side-table. They all looked fearsome and had different designs, I suppose to cause pain in different ways. There were at least ten wooden paddles, some plain and very heavy-looking, some with holes and some with slits – I knew that slits would be intensely painful as my ass-skin and ass-hairs would be pulled into each slit by the force of a blow, then pinched and pulled out violently as the paddle was lifted again. There were also a few black leather paddles, some with ridges or roughened metal studs. Finally, there was a long-handled rubber paddle, apparently made from a car-tyre, it was thick and heavy, and the business end was about two feet long and six inches or so wide: it looked terrifying: I couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to be beaten with that, especially with my ass in its current state.
The spanking bench Masters Chris and Eddie had brought with them was in the centre of the room, and I was told to mount it. My penis rope was, once again, roughly and painfully removed, and I was strapped to the bench. My head faced the Frat leader with the paddles in front of me to my right, so I could see them. I knew that I was positioned so my ‘sentence’ for demerits and perceived misbehaviour would be carried out as soon as it was pronounced by the Frat.
The big surprise was Master Eddie. All the other members of the Frat were dressed. At that moment, none of them even had his dick outside his pants, but Master Eddie was completely naked. When he turned round, I also noticed that his ass was pink where he had obviously been spanked. There were no welts or injuries on his ass or anywhere else – although I wasn’t sure if his balls weren’t slightly swollen.
I was being tied to the spanking bench when Master Wang said “Here, Eddie boy”, and pointed to the ground in front of him. Master Eddie almost ran and took Master Wang’s dirty bare feet in his hands and started to kiss and lick them. He worshipped Master Wang’s feet. Master Eddie was still a sadistic master for me. He was not a slave like me. But he had become the Frat’s sub, and he frankly looked a bit scared of some of his even more sadistic Frat brothers!
The Frat leader stood up and announced “Criminal slave, I’m going to count your demerits and hear reports on your behaviour. Then I’ll propose a set of punishments to the Frat. When we all agree, we’ll carry out the punishments. Right now, I’m going to invite any of the Frat to piss in your mouth, including Sub Eddie. A drop spilt or a tooth felt means all your punishments will be doubled – I’d avoid that if I were you, you piece of filth”.
A line formed of half-a-dozen Frat-boys, maybe more. I swallowed their piss and I kept my teeth off their precious cocks. Master Eddie lied that he had felt a tooth-scratch. “The slave won’t get double because Eddie’s only a sub, but we’ll add 10% which can be administered by Eddie himself.”
“Demerits?” asked the Frat leader. About five hands shot into the air from Frat boys eager to see me punished hard. It was the double-time in the washroom which was the most serious, but there were also complaints about me “not being a good enough fuck – it hardly makes an effort” and my inadequate gratitude for various clamps and beatings when dragging the 10kg ball-weight upstairs. “It showed no real enthusiasm for my cigar burns, and didn’t even ask for more this morning, the ungrateful cunt”, said Master Charlie.
And so it went on.
“This is a long list of failings and demerits, all deserving severe punishment, criminal slave. I propose the following. All twelve members of the Frat to administer ten paddlings each. Each paddling will be administered with a different paddle, except for the tyre-paddle which can be used twice. Full force is to be used and the slave’s ass will be kept wet for more intense pain. Twelve additional strokes, the extra 10%, will be administered by Eddie. That will make 132 strokes.
“The slave’s ass-cheeks will then be pulled apart as far as possible, using punishment hooks, and I will then whip its anus for as long as I wish, after which Master Charlie will extinguish a cigar on the slave’s asshole which should by then be swollen and very painful.
“The slave will then be available for all. A gag will keep its mouth open, and the hooks will remain in its buttocks in case they’re wanted, for example, for double penetration. Members of the Frat will be invited to fuck the slave as many times as they wish in the ass or mouth. The slave will remain in position with a gag to keep its mouth open and a very sore anus for any further fucking or any genital torture that Frat brothers may want to impose.
“Finally, after a night back in its cage, its time in the hell-hole tomorrow will be doubled from two hours to four hours.”
I started shaking. Tears welled. How would I survive this?
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