I steeled myself for an unbearable ass-beating to begin immediately.
But then something unexpected happened.
One of the Frat – I couldn’t see him because the voice came from behind me – spoke up: “What about our sub? I agree that we should beat the criminal slave – I'm looking forward to it – I’m sitting so I can watch its ass disintegrate! But the sub’s behaviour also needs reviewing.”
It took me a moment to realise that they were talking now about Master Eddie, slim and blonde, currently naked at Master Wang’s feet. There were some murmurs of agreement. Eddie stopped sucking Master Wang’s toes and shouted, “Hey, OK, sorry, but not in front of the criminal slave, right. Please not in front of it.”
Master Wang kicked Eddie away from his feet. Master Wang said quietly “Why the fuck not?” Eddie looked desperate.
Then the complaints about Eddie started. Master Paul said “Eddie doesn’t really know his sub place yet – he was quite uppity when I told him to get on all fours in the corridor because I wanted to fuck him”.
Master Wang said “This is the second time he’s done my feet – still not enough enthusiasm – I had to spank him the first time – I think he could do with a paddling and a dose of my diarrhoea!” This brought some laughter as well as nods of agreement, and a "Fuck, yes" from Master Wes.
Eddie was standing now and almost shouting “Please, everyone, please ...”. Not here. Not in front of that criminal slave. Please – don't humiliate me in front of it..
They ignored him and carried on.
Master Chris spoke next “Yes, Eddie’s been a sub since I first knew him, but he also likes punishing the criminal slave – he's super-sadistic, sure, and he belongs in the Frat, but now he needs to learn about subbing – I think a hard paddling in front of the criminal slave would be a good reminder of his position in this frat.”
“I agree – he needs to be put in his place. He retched when I had him lick my pits, nuts and ass after my run – I think he may be a racist”, said Master Jacoby.
“A racist, yeah", said Master Wang. "Makes sense with my feet – haha, he won’t love my diarrhoea then if he's a racist!”
“I’m not a fucking racist” - Eddie was almost screaming now, and I could also see he was about to cry. “Please – mates – give me a bit more time.”
They were unforgiving.
“Shut the fuck up, sub”, said a slightly older Frat-boy I hadn’t met yet. He was ethnically Indian or Pakistani, “You’re a fucking racist and you need it beaten out of you, sub, before you spend tonight with me”.
“OK, Frat-brothers", said the Frat leader. “Ahmed and Jacoby reckon our sub-boy's racist. Wang, Paul and Chris have also complained.
“Eddie, you’re going to bend over that table right in front of the the criminal slave, and receive double what you were going to be allowed to give it – also, you won’t paddle the criminal slave this evening. You’ll receive 24 strokes of the paddle right now and right here, before we punish the slave, eight each from Jacoby, Ahmed and Wang. Black, Brown and Chinese – that should beat the racism out of you!”
This brought some laughter and general agreement. Eddie, in tears, I think said “Please, please, I’m not a racist”, but his voice was faint. He knew what was coming.
“We won’t tie you down, sub, but, if you don’t stay bent over that table during your paddling, we’ll squeeze you into the dog-cage with the criminal slave for the night. Imagine how humiliating that will be” and someone added "and fucking uncomfortable and smelly". More laughter.
“Also, Eddie, you’re going to have to learn not to plead. It doesn’t work in this frat. You get extra punishment for pleading. This time, your extra is this: when you help with the hell-hole tomorrow, you’ll stay naked, even while you’re outside, even if it’s ducking freezing. No clothes. Stark naked. Got it?”
Eddie was just defeated. “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. I get it”. The erection he’d had since worshipping Master Wang’s feet shrunk to nothing before everyone’s eyes.
“Over the table”, ordered Master Jacoby “I’m going first”. The big black Frat-boy had picked up a long and heavy wooden paddle with about a dozen holes in it. It made a fearsome whistling sound as he swung it in the air. “Count, thank me, and ask for another, Eddie”.
Master Jacoby was fit and well over six feet tall. He was very strong. He stripped to the waist and swung that paddle with considerable force. A resounding crack of wood on bare flesh was followed about half a second later by a high-pitched roar of agony from Eddie. He stood up (big mistake), and started to jump up and down, holding his ass which was reddening fast and clearly showed pale circles mirroring the holes in Master Jacoby’s chosen paddle.
“One more chance”, said the Frat leader, “or you’ll be tied down, the dose doubled, and it’ll be a night with the cunt there in its cage.”
“Please Sir, it hurts so much.”
“It’s supposed to fucking hurt. It’s a punishment. Grab the sides of the table, stay in place. Thank, count, ask for the next. Any more talking back and it’ll be not be just double but treble.”
Eddie was sobbing loudly now, but he bent back over the table, grabbed the sides, and said quietly: “One, thank you Jacoby, Sir: may I please have another?”
Master Jacoby grinned, said “better”, and swung full-force again. Eddie shrieked, but stayed in position and sobbed “Two, thank you Jacoby, Sir: may I please have another?”
Eddie held on for the whole eight from Master Jacoby. Each powerful paddle-stroke from the muscular black sadist was supposed to 'smash the racism’ out of Eddie. I don’t know if it did that, but it certainly made his light pink buttocks turn to scarlet. The paler circles where the holes in the paddle had impacted at force were rapidly turning much darker, almost purple. Eddie’s ass looked like a patchwork of soreness. His breathing was alternately gulping and ragged.
He moved to stand up. “Back over”, said a grinning Master Wang.
Master Wang had picked up a leather paddle with metal studs. He showed it to Eddie: “this won't feel good, boy, after that paddling from Jacoby. Leather after wood will teach you a lesson about behaviour”. After each stroke, I’m going to ask you a question, which you’ll answer politely, after counting and thanking. The watching frat murmured approvingly – Wang always brought something extra. “Brace yourself, Eddie – hold on to that table”.
Eddie was sobbing more quietly but his breathing was short as a result of the fear he was obviously feeling. Then came Master Wang’s first impact: Eddie screeched and lifted his legs off the floor as the unyielding metal studs smacked into his paddle-reddened buttocks and the flexible leather tip reached the sensitive areas around his crack.
“Do you love Chinese Wang’s feet when they’re dirty”.
“One, thank you Wang, Sir. I love your feet always, especially when they’re dirty and smelly, Sir”
The next impact resounded. Another shriek of agony from Eddie.
“Are you going to drink Chinese Wang's piss?”
“Two, thank you Wang, Sir. It will be a pleasure to drink your piss.”
“Are you going to give Wes and Jacoby nice tongue-baths after they’ve been to the gym?”
“Three, thank you Wang, Sir. Yes, I’ll tongue-bath Wes and Jacoby wherever and whenever they want.”
And so on until Master Wang had delivered seven of his eight. The eighth was going to be the best. Eddie was holding the edges of the table, his knuckles going white, as if his life depended on it. Master Wang smashed the paddle across the tops of both thighs together. Eddie screamed long and hard – it must have stung like a million hornets.
“Are you going to drink Chinese Wang's diarrhoea?” The whole Frat laughed at this. Master Wang was obsessed with his disgusting liquid motions.
Eddie shouted breathlessly: “Eight, thank you Wang, Sir. It will be an honour to drink your diarrhoea.”
Wang took a bow and the Frat applauded. Then the Frat leader said “That last stroke was on the sub’s thighs so it doesn’t count. Please repeat number eight, Wang.”
As the Frat cheered, Master Wang delivered a final solid blow across Eddie’s buttocks: “Would you like Chinese Wang to paddle you every day?” “Eight, thank you Wang, Sir. Please paddle me at least once every day.”
Master Ahmed was very different. He was no entertainer. He just wanted to punish the ‘racist fucker’. He was well built and he meant business. He picked up the heavy rubber paddle apparently made from the tyre of a truck and lifted it over his shoulder to attack the scarlet and crimson, and now swelling, ass. The Frat leader intervened “Whoa, that paddle can tear an ass to shreds. It can do permanent damage, like the slitted paddle, so they’re reserved for the criminal slave – it’ll get both in a minute, a double dose of each if that’s what you want, but they’re too severe for Eddie.” Master Ahmed grunted assent and picked instead a long narrow paddle made from aluminium. I hadn’t noticed it before, and I knew at once that I would feel it soon. Eddie was still sobbing. He looked round and begged loudly “not the metal one, Ahmed, please – I'm not racist – I don’t deserve it.”
“Extra two for talk-back", said the Frat leader. “Eddie, no talk-back and don’t forget to count and thank”. Eddie bent over again, defeated once more, and presented his stinging, crimson – and allegedly racist – buttocks for ten strokes from Master Ahmed with the aluminium paddle. By number four, Eddie couldn’t take any more – as I later discovered, the metal burns and stings in such a harsh way that, if you’re not tied down, you just can’t take it. Eddie jumped up and shouted hysterically – “I can’t take this. I can’t take it. Please, everyone, I’ll serve all of you but don’t punish me like” (he pointed to me) “like it. Please. Please, please Ahmed ...” he trailed off in tears.
“You’re in big trouble now,” said the Frat leader. “I heard you were supposed to spend the night with Ahmed tonight, right?” Eddie nodded and Ahmed said - “yeah, I won him at poker for tonight – I was going to fuck him and then make him do chores, including cleaning my room – I'd still like to have him, take him to bed, and remind him from time to time about the state of his ass.”
“OK, Eddie. You’re a sub and you’ll learn to do what we say", the Frat leader continued.
“Chris and Paul, please can you hold him down over the table for the remaining six strokes, which I suggest should now be doubled to twelve.
Eddie, you’ll stay with Ahmed tonight. Tomorrow night, you’ll spend time in that little dog-cage with the criminal slave. It won’t be a nice experience as we won’t let it wash after the hell-hole and the filth-bucket. Now, Eddie, fucking behave!”
They held Eddie down for twelve more cracking strokes with the aluminium paddle. His legs flew in the air and stamped on the ground – Eddie was in immense pain, but they held him down and he had to take the lot. He was a sweating, sobbing, pleading mess by the last stroke, and he was told to go and sit on the floor by Ahmed’s feet, and to worship them. There was laughter as Eddie tried, but failed, to find a way of sitting which didn’t make him jump with pain – as Master Wang commented “His face is a fucking picture when that red ass touches the floor.”
My heart started to race. There were probably only seconds to go before my much more severe punishment started. I sensed the anticipation from the Frat. Even Eddie, sore and beaten, perked up at the thought of my imminent torture.
My position on the spanking bench meant that my buttocks, still showing welts, bruises and scabs from recent beatings, were positioned for even harder hits than Eddie had received. I was at the perfect height and angle for maximum-strength paddle-strokes. Also, the two instruments, declared too dangerous for Eddie, were most definitely going to be used on me.
Master Paul was due to go first, and he asked if he could paddle my balls, instead of my ass, on the last of my ten strokes – he had chosen a very solid wooden paddle. “Good idea”, said the Frat leader, “and if anyone else has any ideas as we go along, just say – after all, this is not the sub, this is the criminal slave, so no limits”.
Then the sub himself piped up. Eddie, still a bit tearful, said “I hate that fucking slave so much – I know I’m not allowed to beat it today, but can I please put a put a tight uncomfortable O-gag on it and fuck its mouth – if it doesn’t do an amazing job with its tongue, can I get to beat it another time – I'd like to use a whip ideally – maybe tomorrow?” “Sounds good”, said the Frat leader, and the rest of the Frat murmured approval – “let's get the criminal slave's first twenty out of the way first.”
Master Paul moved behind me. He didn’t even tap my ass. He just went for it. That heavy solid wooden paddle was slammed into the middle of my naked and damaged ass at full force. My whole body tried to lurch forward but could barely move an inch because of the restraints. As I yelled in pain, the second stroke landed. I let out something between a scream and a groan as my ass caught fire, “Burn up that slave, Paul boy”, someone shouted. After seven or eight, I could hardly scream and I was breathing fast and hard. I was trapped in a hell of pain. Each stroke brought new levels of agony. A paddling like this was really torture, as it was intended to be, rather than just a punishment beating like Eddie had received.
I had forgotten about the tenth stroke being on my balls.
That horrible heavy wooden paddle slashed upwards between my legs which were spread by the spanking bench and hammered my balls into my pelvis. I was silenced. My mouth hung open. My brain registered the brutal impact of that last stroke and then it registered the torturing sting of the previous strokes, and then back again to my balls. Nothing, surely, could ever be as bad as this again.
Master Wang grinned with anticipation as he picked up the slitted paddle. “I tortured the last criminal slave with this. It literally pinches your ass-flesh. Each stroke leaves you with agonising blood blisters which the next stroke crushes, leaving new blood blisters. You won’t believe the pain.” He was right.
Master Paul had left my ass burning and bruised, and Master Wang’s assault with his terrible slitted paddle added dozens of small spots of indescribably extreme pain in different places all over my ass, on the tops of my thighs and at the edges of my crack. My continuous terrified high-pitched screams showed that this paddle was making its impact. It had been deemed too dangerous for Eddie but was going to be used double on me. The pain as each hit of the paddle destroyed a dozen torturing blisters, and created more to be destroyed by the next hit, was just terrible.
At the end of Master Wang’s ten, the promised blood blisters were exploding and dripping on to the floor. “You’ll lick our floor clean afterwards”, said the Frat leader, “yeah, your own blood and our cum leaking from your ass – I'm going to enjoy smashing into your ruined ass with every fucking thrust”, added Master Paul.
“It's had its twenty so I’m going to fuck its mouth now”, said Eddie, standing in front of me. I knew he was going to force my mouth open, but when I saw the gag he was going to use, for a moment I stopped breathing. With all his naked subbing, Eddie had lost none of his master's sadism. He smiled broadly, despite his very sore and bright red ass, as he showed the Frat what he was about to put in my mouth.
“Open up, criminal slave”.
Eddie pushed an impossibly big rubber O-ring behind my teeth, but it wasn’t just rubber. The top and bottom of the O-ring were covered with little metal spikes which cruelly penetrated my gums. There was no way I could avoid those spikes – the ring was so large that I thought it would dislocate my jaw. In fact, it was designed to be as painful as possible even without spikes. I could taste my blood as Eddie, now rock-hard, started to fuck my mouth through the spike-fixed O-gag.
“Use your tongue, criminal slave. If I’m not satisfied, believe me you’ll suffer much worse than this.” I totally believed him. I desperately tried to wrap my tongue around his dick. I licked his piss-slit, I used my throat to pleasure his deeper thrusts.
Master Jacoby picked up the aluminium paddle. I heard him ask “Last one on its balls?” and I heard several Frat-boys approve.
That vicious metal paddle that Eddie had found unendurable was then smashed on to my blistered bleeding ass-flesh. Master Jacoby lifted the paddle high and grunted with the exertion of each full-force hit. Blinding flashes of pain from my ass combined with the spikes which were torturing my mouth – I wished I could have passed out, but I knew that some of the slave-lumps I was forced to eat made that very unlikely. Just before Master Jacoby administered his ninth stroke, he asked Master Charlie to put his cigar out on a bit of my ass which was bleeding too much: "It's fucking annoying", he said. Through all this hideous pain, I had forgotten about the need to pleasure Eddie’s dick. He jammed it down the back of my throat and held it there while I felt Master Charlie’s terrible cigar-burn on my left ass-cheek. Eddie kept his dick deep while Master Jacoby, gave me his tenth and final hit, causing an explosion of agony shooting from my balls, around my whole groin and into my stomach, and then concentrating back in my balls. I literally couldn’t breathe because of Eddie’s dick filling my windpipe.
I think I did actually pass out for a moment and woke to a cheering Frat and a mouth full of Eddie’s warm sperm.
“If you pass out, criminal slave”, said the Frat leader, “it won’t save you from any of your well-deserved punishment. That brown slave-lump we gave you should keep you alert and in pain but, if it doesn’t, believe me, we’ll simply repeat whatever you miss. Got it?” My mouth was still forced wide open with the spiked O-ring, which no one seemed in a hurry to remove, so I couldn’t reply. To make his point, the Frat leader, gave me a stinging slap on each cheek, which made the spikes in my gums move around causing fresh agony there. I managed an incoherent grunting sound, which seemed to satisfy the Frat leader for the moment.
Young Master Wes appeared in front of me with tented shorts and the terrifying tyre paddle. It was a metre long from handle to tip and it looked like it was made from a truck or tractor tyre. Applied to human skin, it would tear and rip, cause deep bruising, and unimaginable pain.
“This is going to tear the skin from your ass, criminal slave”, said Master Wes. “I doubt if Charlie’s cigar will be enough to stop the bleeding – we'll probably need the soldering iron – you won't enjoy that experience!” Everyone laughed.
The Frat leader said “Its ass probably won’t be solid enough after this to complete its whole punishment sentence tonight, so we’ll use the hooks, nice and deep, for Wes’s final five, and I might give it a couple of extra after that. After we’ve finished, and we’ve soldered its wounds, anyone, who wants to, can fuck it, either end or both ends, so we'll leave its gag for now. The rest of its punishment will be doubled and given to it tomorrow or the following night.”
“Wang, when everyone’s finished, can you make it lick up the mess and then pour some of your diarrhoea into its mouth as an extra discipline? It’s fucking disrespected the Frat by bleeding too much!”
“It will be a pleasure”, said Wang. “I’ll also make it sit on the spike-mat.”
The Frat leader continued “I’ll come back with Charlie later. We’ll probably torture it a bit and drag it upstairs by its dick – thanks for leaving those nice clear marks on its shaft, Wes. It’ll go in its dog-cage for the night. It’s got the hell-hole tomorrow to look forward to”.
Then he turned to me with a smirk on his face - “There you’ll discover a bit of what happened to the last criminal slave we dealt with”, and he crouched and spat in my face.
Master Wes had gone behind me by now and was lifting the tyre paddle. It was massive and heavy. The first blow was even worse than I’d expected. My whole body went into some kind of shock. It didn’t so much sting at first as cause a severe and sudden ache which expanded rapidly into an agonising deep bruising pain. The unbearable sting from my torn ass-flesh registered a few seconds later. At the same time, my inevitable lurching forward made the horrible O-ring rip more into my gums. It was all more than I could take. Yet I knew that I had no way to avoid another nine powerful hits from Master Wes.
My young torturer with his tyre-paddle was determined to make each stroke individually memorable. The thick treads of the tyre bit into different parts of my ass on each of his first five strokes – ripping flesh from my left buttock, right buttock, from both sides of my crack, and from the top of each of my thighs. Absurd high-pitched or throaty gasps and groans came from my throat up through the spiked O-gag. After the first three, Master Chris said “I think it’s trying to say something”, and laughed, “stupid cunt”, he concluded and went on to stroke four.
After five, the Frat leader gave Master Chris two sharp metal hooks. Then, like an old buddy, as if Eddie’s paddling and humiliation had never happened, Master Chris gave one to him.
Eddie, as he always did, taunted me “See this curved hook and its pointy end, criminal slave. The point is super-sharp and the rest of the hook, which is made of steel, is much thicker but smooth, so the whole thing will go through your ass like butter. The point won’t hurt you that much because your ass is a mess already but, wow criminal slave, when we pull through the rest of that metal hook, three to four millimetres in diameter, you’ll discover pain you never yet encountered – we'll pull that cold metal about a centimetre inside your ass-meat and then we’ll attach a couple of pieces of rope and we’ll pull on each hook, exposing your crack and hole. You won’t get used to the pain from the hooks, let alone the pain from the tyre-paddle smashing into your nasty little asshole.” By this time, Eddie was getting hard again: “We’ll tie off the hooks while you’re being fucked – and you’d better make sure you work your ass so they’re nice fucks for us or there’ll be more punishment coming your way with some very unpleasant sharp-edged dildoes.”
Eddie was right that I hardly felt the points, sharp as syringes, but then the rest of the metal hooks were pulled through virgin muscle seemingly deep inside my buttocks. Once again, I shook and struggled and I could barely breathe as this new pain registered. Then the pulling and tightening was cruelly and jerkily done. Master Wes lifted the tyre-paddle again. It whipped into my crack and slammed on my hole.
Each stroke tore flesh from the sides of my crack – in fact, after four strokes, Master Wes actually showed me a piece of skin with some ass-hairs which had fallen off “you’ll eat it tomorrow, criminal slave”.
I thought of those words “you’ll eat it tomorrow”. I put it together with the Frat master saying earlier that I’d discover what happened to the last criminal slave tomorrow. I shook as I worked out what they might be telling me. Surely not? Not even this Frat would do that. No. Surely not?
The soldering and the fucking, which followed the tyre-paddling, were of course tortures for me, but the pain had somehow reached a limit. I was trying to scream continuously, as little extra punishments were added for Frat-boy amusement. They clamped my ears and then my balls, and they pushed the pin of a belt buckle into my dick.
But, all the time, it was my fear of tomorrow, fear of the hell-hole, and fear of the filth-bucket , and fear of might be in the filth-bucket, that overwhelmed me.
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