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, currently naked at Master Wang’s feet. There were some murmurs of agreement. Eddie stopped sucking Master Wang’s toes and shouted, “Hey, mates, not in front of the criminal slave. Please not in front of it.”
Master Wang kicked Eddie away from his feet. Eddie looked desperate. Master Wang said quietly “Why the fuck not?”
Then the complaints about Eddie started. Master Paul said “Eddie doesn’t really know its 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 – 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!”
Eddie was standing now “Please, everyone, please ...”. Not here. Not in front of that criminal slave. Please – don't humiliate me.
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 dominating 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. “Makes sense with my feet – haha, he won’t love my diarrhoea then,” chimed Master Wang.
“I’m not a fucking racist” - Eddie was almost screaming now, and I could 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, ethnically Indian or Pakistani, “You’re a fucking racist and you need it beaten out of you, sub”.
“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 the table right in front of the the criminal slave, and receive double what you were going to be allowed to give it – you won’t paddle the criminal slave now.
“Eddie, you’ll receive 24 strokes of the paddle right now and right here, 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” More laughter.
“Also, Eddie, you’re going to have to learn not to plead. It doesn’t work in this frat. You get punished for pleading. This time, 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. 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”. He 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, well over six feet tall, and very strong. He swung that paddle with considerable force. A resounding crack of wood on bare flesh was followed about 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 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, fast 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 will feel good after that paddling from Jacoby, boy. Leather after wood should 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 shorter from 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 or clean”.
“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 my piss?”
“Two, thank you Wang, Sir. It will be a pleasure to drink your piss.”
“Are you going to give Wes a tongue-bath after he’s been to the gym?”
“Three, thank you Wang, Sir. Yes, I’ll longue bath Wes wherever and whenever he wants.”
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 my diarrhoea?” The whole Frat laughed at this.
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 me to paddle you every day?” “Eight, thank you Wang, Sir. Please paddle me at least every day.”
Master Ahmed was 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 slit-paddle, so they’re reserved for the criminal slave – it’ll get both in a minute, a double dose if that’s what you want, but they’re too severe for Eddie.” 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 “not the metal one, Ahmed, please – I'm not racist – I don’t deserve it.”
“Extra two for talk-back", said the Frat leader. “Don’t forget to count and thank, Eddie”. 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.
“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. You’ll stay with Ahmed tonight. Tomorrow night, you’ll spend time in that tiny 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, fucking behave, Eddie!”
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 real pain, but they held him down and he hd 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, his spanker’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 slightly 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, it’s the criminal slave”. Then the sub himself piped up. Eddie said, still a bit tearful, “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, 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 its 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 piece of wood 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 it up, 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, really a torture, as it was intended to be, rather than 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, exploding blood blisters were 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.
“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 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 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 very nearly passed out and I wish I could have passed out. 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 and annoying him. 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. He kept it there as 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 passed 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’ll enjoy that experience!” Everyone laughed.
The Frat leader said “Its ass probably won’t be solid enough after this to complete its whole punishment 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 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 make it sit on the spike-mat while I’m doing it.”
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 marks on its shaft, Wes. It’ll go in its dog-cage. 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 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 is 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 thick, you’ll discover pain you never yet encountered – we'll pull that cold metal about a centimetre into 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 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 this 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. I shook as I worked out what they might be telling me. Surely not? No, even here. Surely not?
The soldering and the fucking 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 a belt buckle pin 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 what might be in it, that overwhelmed me.
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