On the way downstairs, the Frat-boys largely ignored me. Instead, they were teasing Eddie about the night he’s spent with Master Quentin. Eddie had been caned by Master Quentin for not sucking and rimming him enthusiastically enough and he had had to show his welts to everyone while he was serving breakfast naked – it had been the second morning of his ‘breakfast’ punishment and someone had apparently spat in his cold porridge.
Master Quentin told everyone that “after I caned him, our faggot boy changed his attitude and showed some respect to my dick and ass, and even pretended to look happy when I told him to drink my piss”. Eddie was totally embarrassed and humiliated. He had been allowed a tee-short, shorts and sandals this morning, but the shorts he’d been told to wear were tiny – even I could see a couple of the stripes from his caning on the back of his thighs.
We finally arrived at the flat roof above the hell-hole, the room that had been cut off from the rest of the Frat-house interior. The Frat-boys were waiting with their gas-masks. Except for Eddie. There was a gas-mask for him but the Frat leader had said he should “smell the punishment-dip first”. And then he could have it.
Master Quentin noticed Eddie’s unhappy look and decided it was time for a lecture:
“Eddie, you’re the Frat’s sub – you were always going to be – we can enjoy your body when we want and how we want – we're never going to destroy it like the criminal slave’s body – you were quite good last night, which is why I only gave you a light caning – I know it hurt but you have to accept that your punishments are going to hurt or be embarrassing. Otherwise they wouldn’t be punishments. Spending most of the night with my dick in your mouth was a privilege but you could have worked them better.
The rest of the Frat were smiling now and there was some laughter.
“Also, Eddie, you’re a lousy ass-eater – you're going to have to get used to the odd bit of shit – we’re not always going to clean ourselves – what's your sub-tongue for? You gave me a reasonable tongue-bath after my run, but you complained too much when I trampled on your dick. I was only wearing running shoes. As you know, I’ll be trampling the criminal slave in my metal cleats. So, get over yourself, sub!
Then, to humiliate him more, he said:
“Drop your pants and stick your ass in front of the criminal slave’s face. Let it examine your cane-marks and see what happens to the ass of a naughty sub.”
Eddie looked around like he wanted to kill someone, but he knew he had no choice. He dropped his shorts and stuck his ass an inch from my face. Then he smiled and farted loudly. I was taken by surprise as my face was covered in Eddie’s ass-dampness and his gases went up my nose. I coughed and sneezed. The Frat laughed, even Master Quentin. A couple of the boys congratulated Eddie for “a good reaction – put the criminal slave in its place too,” one of them said. Another said “That was gross but funny.”
Eddie had recovered the situation but remembered his place. He turned towards Master Quentin to ask if he could please now pull up his pants. Master Quentin smiled, spanked Eddie’s dick hard enough to make him gasp, and nodded. Eddie knew not to complain, or to touch his bruised dick (as that would have looked like resentment), so he just said “Thank you, Quentin”, and pulled up his pants.
Now the Frat’s attention turned to me. Everyone but Eddie put on their gas masks. A large colour monitor showing the hell-hole at various angles was switched on.
The Frat leader unlocked the manhole cover and lifted it. The stinking gases coming from the opening were so strong and so disgusting that I immediately started choking. Eddie pulled right back and looked away. I thought he was going to be sick again.
I was told not to move and just stood there stupefied, as waves of nauseating gases surrounded me, filling my mouth and nostrils, invading my whole naked body. I wasn’t even in the room yet. It would be impossible, I reckoned at that moment, to survive being pushed into that hell-hole.
The Frat leader handed Eddie a gas mask and he gulped as much fresh air as he could before putting it on. Then the Frat leader looked at me. His voice was muffled but I could hear enough. He cuffed me with my hands behind my back and my ankles were cuffed to a short spreader bar, one which, I realised, would fit through the open manhole. Someone switched on the bright hell-hole lights but I didn’t look inside. It was almost too much to face that room. I definitely felt warm air coming from the manhole, a kind of relief in the freezing outside conditions, but the stench that came with that air outweighed any benefits. Then I was pushed to the ground and a small overhead gantry, which I hadn’t even noticed until then, swung until three chains hanging from it scraped over me. One of the Frat-boys – it was difficult to identify them in gas-masks – attached the two side-chains to the ends of my spreader bar. The central chain had an attachment which fitted tightly around my dick and balls, and had a bar extending to a heavy metal ring which fitted round my neck.
Then Eddie appeared, masked up now but still in his ridiculous tee-shirt and now-tented shorts. He re-fixed the spiked O-gag from the night before. He smiled as the spikes went in.
I knew of course that I was going to enter that hell-hole, and probably the filth-bucket itself, upside-down through that manhole, and I also realised that anyone controlling those chains could choose whether to suspend me by my legs or genitals or some combination of both, depending on how they wanted to punish or discipline me.
Someone pushed a button and I soon found myself suspended upside down over the manhole. Now I dared to open my eyes. They stung from the toxic air or the hell-hole, but I could now see where I was going to go.
The huge bucket was straight underneath me, perhaps six feet below where I was suspended at the entrance to the manhole. All around it looked like five or six piles of raw human sewage, open bags of dog-shit, and piles of very old rotting food. An alarmed rat moved across some of the garbage and disappeared into a hole at the side, and now I could also see several dead rats, skin falling away, rotting on some of the food waste. The worst of it was the huge filth bucket to which, very slowly but inevitably, I was descending head-first.
My eyes and nose were running, dripping into the bucket. My head was heavy from being upside-down but I was totally focused on the terrible bucket. I realised that the rigid metal bar connecting my dick and balls to my neck meant that I couldn’t pull away from the bucket as I approached it. There was almost no flexibility. If the frat-boys lowered me head-first right into that horrendous mixture of pig-shit and dog-shit, that was where I was going.
My head hit something on the surface of the filth. The warmth had evidently caused the shit in the bucket to form a kind of crust. As I was pushed down, the top of my head cracked and then broke the crust. I was undoubtedly descending upside-down into this seething heated mixture of pig-shit, dog-shit and piss.
I felt a dampness as the vile mixture seething under that crust wet my hair and the top of my head. One of the urinals in the wash-room had been directed into the shit mixture so it would be more liquid for easier dunking. I felt that wetness as the filth reached my forehead. Automatically, I tried to pull away but my neck-iron held me in place. Shaking actually pushed the first bits of the shit-mix into my eyes – I shut them hard but too late to avoid the mixed filth going into them.
My nose went under next. The liquids seeped into it. I blew my nose frantically but it achieved nothing. One of my nostrils was blocked by the disgusting shit-paste and the other by what seemed to be a small hard turd. It was impossible to avoid breathing these in. Then my nose was under and I could only breathe the polluted air through my mouth. I must have begged and screamed but no one heard or, if they did, definitely no one cared.
They stopped my descent at that point. It was only going to be temporary. I was trying to take some big gulps of air to avoid drowning, but the Frat wanted to enjoy my fear of the final part of my head-first descent into a big bucket of animal shit and human urine. They played with my chains, pushing my legs down and yanking my cock and balls up. My nose went in and out of the filth. Then they let me go a bit lower than they’d intended and a small amount of indescribably vile paste rolled into my mouth. It just stayed there, spreading its gaseous taste. I was upside down and my mouth was forced painfully open with the spiked O-gag. I couldn’t close my mouth even one millimetre without torturing myself. Nor could I swallow properly. The filth just swilled around the inverted roof of my mouth and up and down my nostrils.
Then it happened. They submerged my entire head. My mouth immediately filled with the pig-shit and dog-shit mixed with frat-boy piss. They pulled me out, putting as much strain, as they did so, on the chain holding my dick and balls as possible. Then they dropped me back in, deeper this time. Now, I could feel more pressure as noxious paste filled my ears. I think I must have been dropped in and been pulled of that bucket at least a dozen times. I was in constant dread of drowning and in constant horror of the stench and filth. The torture was increased by the use of the genital chain by whoever was controlling me and, even more so, by never knowing how long I would be kept under. Frat-boys were apparently taking it in turns at dunking me in the shit, laughing and ragging each other, urging each other on, and watching me on the big colour monitor. Sometimes they submerged just my head, though I never knew for how long. Other times I went in upside-down almost to my waist. The filth mostly stuck to me like clay.
On a couple of occasions when my head was forced into the hard bits of dog-shit or pig-shit which had sunk to the bottom of the bucket, , a whole turd would enter my mouth and, horrifically, start to soften in there, releasing its powerful nauseating gases. Then I really thought my dick and balls would be ripped off as I was cruelly jerked upwards again. On those deeper dunkings, the filth would slide off my body, when I emerged, and into into my mouth and nostrils below, before I was inevitably lowered into the bucket again.
The Frat knew they could only keep a person upside down for a limited amount of time. They didn’t want me to pass out and not feel what was happening to me. So they eventually hauled me out, using all the chains but making sure that the chain around my dick and balls was used to the maximum. I stank horribly as I re-emerged through the manhole, and I tasted nothing but shit. Even the fresher air of that cold day hardly helped.
I vomited. Lumps of half-digested pig-shit and dog-shit flowed from my mouth. But, for one of these sadists, this was just an expected opportunity. Master Chris had brought the suction tube he had used on me for his shit back at the house.
“A punishment coming up for making a mess, criminal slave. Remember this tube?”
I was lying on the concrete, defeated and in agony, while Master Chris used the suction tube to pick up most of the pile of vomit I had just chucked up. Then two Frat-boys, I think Masters Thierry and Jacoby, pushed me on to my back and pulled my legs back over my head. Master Chris filled his tube, and, like he had done back at the house, shoved three fillings right up my asshole, stuffing it with my own shit-vomit from my ass-lips right up to my prostate. In the house, he’d then blocked my hole with spike-balls super-glued together, which later had to be agonisingly ripped out. This time, he had devised something even worse. He picked up a thick dildo with vicious-looking barbed wire wrapped around it. The barbed wire immediately bit hard into the soft flesh around my asshole and gouged into it as Chris slowly forced the dildo in. A few final and brutal twists and the dildo was fixed in place. The barbed wire meant it couldn’t be shifted. It was a short dildo but fat enough to ensure that nothing could escape from my hole, which was now stretched beyond its limits and already starting to cramp from the solidifying vomit which was blocking it. I could actually feel my ass-muscles trying uselessly to expel hard pig-shit lumps pressing on my prostate.
Eddie, still naked, stood over me. I don’t know what I expected but I spoke hoarsely from my throat, barely more than an unintelligible whisper through my mouth which was still forced open by the spiked gag Eddie had put there, something like “Please, Master Eddie ...”. I pleaded perhaps with my tearful smarting eyes. Maybe, now he was a sub, I was looking for fellow-feeling. I don’t really know. Eddie didn’t even seem to notice. But the Frat leader heard me. He said calmly “I warned you about pleading, criminal slave. Extra punishment – we'll double the remaining paddle-hits from 102 to 204 and double Eddie’s frontal whipping from 20 to 40.”
The Frat-boys had let go of my legs and I collapsed in agony and despair on to my side. I didn’t realise that my balls were exposed behind my closed thighs. Eddie, probably horrified that anyone should think he was going soft on me, kicked me twice in the balls and then ordered me to kneel. I struggled painfully into a kneeling position on the bare concrete. My mouth was still forced open with the spiky O-gag. Eddie took a long piss in my mouth, and the Frat applauded.
“It’ll soon be re-entry time, criminal slave”, said Master Charlie. “We’re going to attach the chains to your handcuffs this time and lower you feet-first until you’re standing in the filth-bucket. Then you’ll give us a dozen squats – remember that, criminal slave. We want to see your nasty dick and balls covered in that mixture of pig-shit, dog-shit and our piss. Then you’ll climb out of the bucket and sort out the contents of the hell-hole: food waste in one place, dead rats and dog-shit in another, and the pile of Frat shit from the re-directed toilet on another. You’ll arrange it all neatly, using only your mouth. Don’t forget we’ll be watching everything on the monitor”, “and laughing”, added Eddie. “We’ll haul you up when we reckon you’ve finished and we’ll punish any mistakes very severely with a caning and cigar burns”, Master Charlie continued.
“The sub interrupted you, Charlie, and he should asked permission to piss in the slave”, said Master Wang. “Everybody agree Eddie needs a spanking?”
They told Eddie to strip completely naked, including his gas-mask. He started coughing from the stench that was coming from the hell-hole and off me. Then they made him go over the knees of three Frat-boys in a row. Each one gave him about twenty hard hand-spanks. A few of the spanks were on his balls. There was a ripple of laughter when Eddie jerked his head up and winced when Master Thierry smacked his balls hard at least three times in a row. At the end, Eddie, red-faced, red-assed, and holding his balls, was told by Master Wang to “stay naked until the criminal slave has gone down again. Then no gas-mask – you can operate the loudspeaker, telling the fucking filthy perverted criminal slave what to do precisely, and making sure it earns plenty of cane-strokes when it comes up again”. Eddie seemed to brighten at that prospect and his semi-hard turned to hard.
The Frat leader then pulled out my spiked O-gag and used his torturing spray inside my mouth. I yelped, but knew better than to move till he was done. “You’ll need your mouth to tidy that place up. No hands, criminal slave.”
Then they pushed me down the manhole again and back into the bucket of unimaginable filth.
“12 squats in the bucket, criminal slave”, commanded Eddie.
I managed three. It was horrible as the filth covered what had once been my most private parts, but were now just objects for torture. As I started the fourth squat, I slipped on the shit-slime at the bottom of the bucket. I fell back and really struggled to stand again. I realised that I was exhausted as well as desperate.
“Get the fuck on with it”, came Eddie’s voice on a loudspeaker somewhere above me. I heard some muffled voices and then “10 strokes of the cane for every 30 seconds with no squats. That’s what you’ve got so far. Heading for 20.”
I can’t remember how, but I grabbed the side of the bucket with my cuffed hands and forced myself to straighten up. I immediately squatted again in the filth. My stuffed and tortured asshole, my dick and balls, in fact every part of my naked body was covered in that horrendous mixture of animal shit and Frat-boy piss. I lost count of my squats until I heard Eddie’s voice: “That’s thirteen, you stupid fucker”. Give us three more as a punishment – and you’re up to 15 strokes of the cane. We’re waiting up here with canes just for you.”
“Now get out of that bucket and go to where there’s a pile of Frat-shit on the floor by the end of the broken pipe. Pick up every fucking turd and put it on the shelf to your left. Remember Frat-shit's not just any shit. It tastes and smells fucking good and has to be treated with respect. Some of those turds are fresh from the other day and some were deposited at least a month ago. Mix them, chew them and deposit them, pig-slave”.
I climbed out of the bucket and walked a few paces to the pile of Frat-shit. Some of it was clearly hard and decayed and some of it soft and fresh. It was all disgusting and it all stank. Human shit stinks at least as badly as pig-shit and dog-shit.
Handcuffed, and with the terrible pain in my torn asshole making me yelp as I moved, I knelt in front of that shit-pile and put as much as possible in my mouth, hauled myself up and spat it on to the shelf.
“Kiss those Frat-turds before you put them in your mouth, and chew them on the way, criminal slave. 2 more strokes of the cane for disrespecting our shit. 17 strokes now.”
I knelt again. I could feel every strand of the barbed wire eating into the lining of my asshole, and torturing it. I kissed some of the Frat-turds and picked them up with my mouth. I was instructed to “fill your mouth, slave, we want to see your cheeks bulge with frat-shit". When I couldn’t fit any more in, I started to stand “No, criminal slave, chew those turds and make room for two more turds in your mouth.” I knelt back down and tried to kiss another fresher turd that I might possibly fit in, but shit fell out of my mouth as I tried to do so. “Disgusting filth-slave, three more cane-strokes for that disrespect. Stand up and deposit what’s in your mouth and then kneel back down and clean up that mess respectfully. Chew that Frat-shit, slave!”
I could hear some laughter in the background as this went on for some time. Kneeling and standing, kissing, chewing and depositing, and endlessly repeating, with all the time that barbed wire eating into my asshole. The taste of shit, some of it inevitably sliding down my throat, permanently in my mouth. Finally, after licking the floor of the last turds, and earning another eight cane-strokes for various “mistakes”, I was told “Dog-shit next”, and the whole performance was repeated with a smaller pile of vile dog-shit, mostly quite fresh, apparently from the dogs I had heard earlier. Again kneeling, kissing (apparently even frat-connected dog-shit had be shown respect), chewing, depositing. So utterly disgusting.
“Move on to the food waste, criminal slave. Kneel in front of it. It’s Frat-waste. Show respect again”.
I walked painfully to the food-waste pile. The stench was different from the different types of shit I’d been handling. At least two bin-loads of rotted garbage, several feet deep and wide were piled in the corner of the hell-hole. Several dead rats lay on top of the biggest pile and I realised that there were probably a few more deeper inside the disgusting piles in front of me.
I knelt slowly in front of the food-waste pile.
“Eat those egg-shells". Eddie’s voice came out loud and clear. I saw the thrown away shells of a dozen or so eggs. I put my mouth down to them and tried to pick them up. The sharp shells quickly got stuck in my mouth and throat, in particular clinging to the wounds left by the spiked O-gags and causing more bleeding. Eddie had found a little extra way to increase my misery. “Finish those egg-shells, cunt-slave. Enjoy the special mouth discipline!” Eddie’s giggles and obvious satisfaction of the punishing egg-shell idea came clearly through the loudspeaker, and I heard more laughter and someone saying “Nice one, Eddie”.
The shells cut my mouth, tongue, lips and throat. Eddie made sure I licked up every last sharp little piece.
Then the next order came: “Put the rats on the shelf next to the Frat-shit, criminal slave”. I looked at the rotting rat carcasses. I could see – and smell – at least three. I couldn’t move. I vomited again. “You’re disgusting, criminal slave. That’s earned you another twelve strokes – you're on forty now – you won’t have much ass left, filth. You can lick up that puke, later. Get on with the rats!” I had to kneel in my own vomit to reach the first rat.
I couldn’t at first work out how to lift a dead and rotting rat with my mouth. Eventually I settled on its neck. I bit into the rat’s neck trying to keep it clear of my tongue. How was a dead rat worse than the animal shit and then the Frat-shit I’d been made to chew and which still coated my mouth and sat heavily in my stomach, where it was impossible to expel through my stuffed, blocked and tortured asshole. I soon realised it was indeed worse. The skin came away in my mouth and the rotting meat and bones flopped back on to the garbage pile. I spat out the skin in horror. “Hurry up, criminal slave, move that filthy rat. Two extra strokes of the cane for unnecessary delay.”
I bit on the dead rat’s tail, but it came away from the rotting body.
“Stuff your fucking mouth with that decayed fucking rat. Eat the maggots – I can see them. Take all those rotting little bones in your disgusting mouth. Enjoy the rat-meal, filthy criminal slave. Life isn’t so fucking easy now, is it? If you haven’t deposited that entire rat on the shelf in fifteen seconds, we’ll haul you up only by your dick and balls, and give them – and only them – fifty full-force strokes of the cane – I remember you didn’t like the martinet there much. Then we’ll put you back down there. Then you’ll begin again with that fucking rat.”
I did it. Possibly the worst thing I’d ever had to do. I forced all that disintegrating dead rat, full of maggots and stinking. I tasted that horrible rat. I retched but I kept it in my mouth. I deposited the whole thing in pieces on the shelf next to the Frat-shit.
I vomited again, but I repeated it five times with rats in different states of decay.
Moving the rotted food-waste after that was horrible, especially as Eddie had told me I’d be quizzed about what was in it, and caned extra for any mistakes. I recognized chicken bones, carrots and some vegetable leaves, and I sort of tasted bits of pizza and possibly some kind of curry, and there were definitely the remains of a couple of very old burgers, clearly chewed at by rats.
“We’re hauling you up now for your caning, criminal slave. You’ve even failed at this. You’re a useless cunt. You deserve everything you’re getting and more, and you will get more, lots more.”
They hauled me back through the manhole on to the flat roof. The blast of relatively fresh air was icy but welcome. Three Frat-boys in gas-masks were holding canes. Two others were ready with the jet-wash. The Frat leader had a big plastic box – I couldn’t see what was in it, but I could see the writing on the outside “Criminal Slave”.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
