Eddie had flogged me with the martinet between my legs before, and I knew the whip would be even worse. It did more damage and I realised Eddie was going to flog me with no mercy from my face to my shins. He had come to see me an hour before I was made to crawl over metal tacks to the Frat’s punishment room, carrying Eddie’s boxers with his vomit from after he’d drunk Master Wang’s diarrhoea and mixed with the Frat Leader’s shit.
“Master Paul’s put down some sharp metal tacks”, Eddie had explained, “for you to crawl over, criminal slave, so your hands, feet and knees will all be bleeding, and causing you fucking misery, when we set you up for frontal flogging. I’m planning to make it your worst torture yet. The Frat will all be watching and I’ve been practising, you cunt. Each stroke will cause its own special damage to your disgusting body.”
He explained that I’d be tied so that my dick and balls would stick out with my dick somehow pushed upwards by a spiky piece of metal above my balls. “Every bit of your dick will be whipped. If I don’t actually whip it off, I guarantee every bit of it will bleed. I will remove lumps of your dick-flesh with the whip, criminal slave. If you still have a dick, it’ll be fucking useless.”
“I’m going to use the Frat’s bullwhip. It’ll smash into different bits of your worthless body at a hundred miles an hour. Apparently, you’ll feel three tortures with each of my strokes – the worst pain, which will build and build, will be where the heavy leather end of the whip lands, but it also has two little knotted leather strands at the end which will bite into your flesh at incredible speed like two little serrated knives. Imagine, criminal slave, a direct hit on the top of your dick followed by those sharp little strands wrapping themselves round the back of it and slicing in. Imagine the destruction of your horrible nipples – there definitely won’t be much left of them, just swollen little bleeding fucking nubs. When my whip smashes into your ballsack, it will be much worse that when I used that martinet – it will probably cut right through to the balls themselves – if I whip one of them off completely, they might make you eat it. And I’ll whip your face, slave – you'll be so ugly when I’ve finished with you, and I can assure you that the pain you’ve had from Wang’s hammer will be nothing compared with a whip right across your mouth.”
I decided to risk all and answer back with a speech I’d prepared in my head - “Eddie, Master Eddie, I’ve known you since you were a kid. I know I had it too easy and you’re right to bring me into line, and to discipline me. But this is going too far. And I overhear things about what they’re going to make you do, filthy things, Eddie, and they’ll blackmail you for life. They won’t let you be a student. You’ll get trapped. They’ve lined up so much pain and degradation for you, Eddie. Painful things ...”
Eddie, who had expected one of my usual confessions and begging for more punishment, looked completely shocked. His mouth fell open. At least he hadn’t just kicked me or pissed on me and left with a promise of more tortures.
I had one more try - “Eddie, we’ve both got to get out of here. I promise, if you take me with you, I’ll always be your slave ...”
Eddie seemed to be paralysed. His mouth opened and shut but he didn’t speak. He said and did nothing for a full minute. Then he started quietly - “When did you hear this stuff about me? Who ...? Look, I ... I guess we’d both get out ... erm ... together... erm ... where ... ?”
Master Wang and the Frat leader appeared at the door.
“Wrong answer, sub”, said the Frat leader with a smirk. Master Wang was carrying handcuffs and moved towards Eddie. Eddie cowered and then just collapsed on to the floor, broken, scared and on the edge of tears. Wang laughed as he handcuffed him and pulled him up: “Where’s the brave whipmaster now, sub-boy?” Then he pulled out a knife and cut through Eddie’s tee-shirt. He pulled down Eddie’s shorts. Eddie meekly stepped out of them, kicking off his flip-flops at the same time. He was shaking now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry”, he whimpered.
“Too late, naked boy”, said the Frat leader. He grabbed Eddie’s balls and squeezed them hard. Eddie doubled over with an agonised squeal, as the Frat leader kneaded his balls. “We’ll deal with you downstairs”.
Eddie was ‘sentenced’ by the Frat half an hour later. I was pushed downstairs and brought into the Frat’s punishment room, to hear the sentence and to watch it being carried out, presumably to increase Eddie’s humiliation.
I was certainly not going to observe in any comfort. They had tied the spike-mat on to a wooden chair for me. I had to sit on those spikes, and then they used handcuffs and ankle-cuffs to keep me in place with my welted and torn ass aching and sore, and chewed continuously by those hard little spikes. Since they hadn’t had had time to put out the tacks for me to crawl over, they had wedged a few of them between some of the spikes. The tacks were bigger than the spikes and they stuck out further – the ones near my asshole dug into the raw wounds in my torn anal ring. To stop my yelping, Master Wes attached a cloth gag, which was damp and stank of piss, over my mouth. Master Wes said quietly “It looks like you’ll have a working dick for an hour or so longer – we're still going to whip you, and especially your dick, but we have to deal with the sub-cunt first – hope your ass is hurting as dealing with the sub-boy may take some time ...”
My beaten ass was heating, itching and in constant pain from the spike-mat, but of course I said “Thank you, Master Wes, for preparing the spike-mat for my ass – I deserve spikes and tacks in my disgusting torn hole and on my cane welts.”
Eddie was standing attached to a metal pole which ran from floor to ceiling. They had attached him by his ankles and by his balls (which looked red and a bit swollen from the Frat leader’s squeezing and probably by an additional kick or two). Also, they’d stretched his arms uncomfortably high above his head and tied them to a rope hanging from a hook in the ceiling. He looked utterly defeated and miserable. He was still naked of course and waiting to hear his fate.
The Frat leader started “This fucking cunt, attached to the punishment pole, ought to have that pole shoved straight up his traitorous little asshole. Our criminal slave begged for him to let it out of its cage and run away and our sub-boy here fucking agreed and was going to run away with him.”
“No, it’s not true, I never ...”
The Frat leader walked across to Eddie, who cowered but couldn’t move from his pole. The leader punched Eddie in the mouth and then very hard right in the solar plexus. “We have the fucking proof in the recording and, on top of that, Wang and I heard you, you disgusting little cunt. One more word and we’ll dip a rag in the shit in the blocked toilet and shove it down your mouth until you choke. Got it?”
Eddie nodded, shaking and terrified.
“I propose that we tie Eddie down so that anyone who wants, here and now, can fuck his ass or mouth for the next hour or so. Hard sub-work for an hour or more. We don’t want him to enjoy it, so no one should use any lube. You can even use the ridged punishment condoms in his ass if you want. We’ll also keep him in tight tit-clamps and keep his dick and balls covered with Icy Hot – we’ll put some inside his dick too.
“The second part of his punishment should be tying him to the fuck-table the other way around and take it in turns giving him ten on his ass with one of the heavy paddles and then ten with any cane the individual Frat member selects. He’ll get 200 full-force strokes, which should be a reasonable lesson – particularly on a raw fucked-stupid ass”, the Frat leader concluded.
“Last night was my turn with him” added Master Jacoby. “slut-boy complained about sleeping on the floor – can you fucking believe it? - I finished with him and threw him off my fucking bed – reasonable or what? – I disciplined him by pissing on the floor and making him spend the next hour licking it up.” The Frat liked that and laughed. “So I’d like to add an extra punishment: make him lick my muddy cleats until they’re fucking spotless and then I’ll put them on and give him 10 kicks in the balls.”
Master Charlie added his own idea “Before you put the Icy Hot on slut-boy's balls, we should rip out his ball-hairs – another good lesson in soreness!" Everyone agreed to that and then Master Chris said “Back home, Eddie ripped out all the criminal slave’s pubes as well as its ball-hairs – it was pretty effective and caused a lot of screaming – I think we should do that to Eddie too and then make him squeal and beg by putting extra dollops of Icy Hot on his new bald patch”.
“Sounds good”, agreed the Frat leader. “Wang has an idea about what comes after all this to keep the sub-boy down and in his place for a while.”
Wang chuckled in his kind-of evil way, just like he had when he beat me and made me drink his diarrhoea. “We can’t trust the sub-boy now, so I suggest that, after we’ve whipped the criminal slave (if it’s still alive), we should treat Eddie the same as the criminal slave for a while, at least until we feel he’s learned his lesson. So he’ll eat the same filth, clean the same toilets, do the same hard labour, and live in the same little dog-cage.”
Master Quentin looked a bit surprised. “He won’t fit in that fucking dog-cage”, he said. “I think he will, just about, if we force him in the opposite way around to the slave.” “He can lick the slave’s feet”, someone said, and Master Wang added “yeah, he can suck the criminal slave’s smelly fucking unwashed toes for the whole night, every night, till we decide he’s learned his lesson, which might be never.”
“What about if we want to use the sub?” asked Master Jacoby. I fucked him about a hundred times. He’s a good fuck. What happens now?
The Frat leader considered, “He’ll still be available for whatever you want. He might be a bit dirty, so you can just make him take a cold shower outside if you’re bothered. He’ll have to be handcuffed or hobbled to prevent any escape ideas. I’ll get him chipped so he can’t even think about running away for him. ”
“Everyone OK with the slut-boy's punishments?”
Everyone agreed.
Masters Jacoby and Wang released Eddie from the pole. He began to plead again. “I’ll be a good slut – please don’t do this.” The Frat leader grabbed Eddie’s balls again. “No-o. No – aargh – please ...” Eddie’s voice faded to a croak as the Frat leader’s hands did their work on his balls. The two Frat boys held him while the Frat leader penetrated Eddie’s balls with his fingers, poking them, crushing his balls together, squeezing them individually, kneading them with his hands and then digging in his nails. It went on for about five minutes. Eddie writhed in agony. Finally, the Frat leader let go of his balls and grabbed the back of Eddie’s sack, pushing his balls together tightly at the front of his sack. Ten punches later, he nodded to the Frat boys holding Eddie. They let go and Eddie fell to the floor with his mouth open in a silent scream of pain.
“Five minutes rest and prepare the slut for fucking”, the Frat leader ordered.
In exactly five minutes they pulled Eddie up. He was still obviously in considerable pain from the Frat leader’s ball-punishment. They pushed him on to a specially prepared, but uncomfortable looking, raping table. It had a plain hard surface and was long enough to support Eddie from his shoulders to his ass. They secured him with handcuffs attached to two straps pulled cross his chest. The Frat boys who wanted to rape his face could simply penetrate his mouth upside down while his head would be hanging unsupported over the end – his neck would hurt like hell after an hour of that. They could also pull out an extension which would support Eddie’s neck and keep him facing up – several of them would use this to sit on his face while he licked their assholes before they raped him at one end or the other. At the other end, Eddie’s ass was completely exposed as his legs were pulled well apart and buckled into two rigid ankle cuffs, hanging on heavy chains from the ceiling above the table.
Removing Eddie’s pubes and ball-hairs by hand took about fifteen minutes. Just like Eddie had done to me back home, one Frat boy after another pulled hairs until they were stretched to the maximum while they were still embedded in Eddie’s skin, and then they were slowly extracted, sometimes one at a time and sometimes in batches, sometimes with jerky movements to hurt Eddie more.
At some point, I think it was Master Wes who said “Let’s do his armpits as well”, and everyone agreed “and we can Icy-Hot them too – it's fucking agony there when the hairs are pulled out – we did it to a kid in the high school toilets and he screamed so much that two of us had to sit on his face to shut him up.”
Eddie shrieked and bucked, but there was little point throughout all these painful procedures. He wasn’t going anywhere. Master Wang brought in from somewhere a box of punishment condoms with a variety of horizontal and vertical ridges and some horrible-looking ones with what looked like little metal protrusions. A Frat-boy could rape Eddie with one of these unlubed punishment condoms and stay perfectly comfortable while adding to Eddie’s pain and misery.
The Frat leader next attached, as he had promised, a pair of fearsome-looking clamps to Eddie’s nipples. “Take them off – please Sirs – I can’t ...”. The leader reached for Eddie’s balls again. “Do you want another session with these?” Eddie stopped pleading but gasped and whimpered. The pain in his chest made even breathing agony.
Finally, Master Charlie took a super-size can of Icy Hot from a cupboard and handed out some gloves. “Don’t hold back with this stuff”, he said and four Frat-boys started lathering it on to Eddie’s hairless balls, armpits and pubic area. You could see Eddie’s face redden as he tried to deal with the mounting pain – you could also see his dick and balls spasm with the burning they were feeling. The Frat leader picked up a thin plastic sound - “this has got ridges, slut-boy, so the trapped Icy Hot will be slowly released into your little slutty urethra. We’ll repeat all the Icy Hot treatment half-way through.”
Then it started. A gang-rape of the young Master who was now a sub, and then had thought about escaping from this Frat full of sadists. It was not going to be a pretty sight but I was going to watch Eddie’s destruction from start to finish from my own painful place in the room. I couldn’t forget for a moment my own predicament as little spikes and hard metal tacks tortured my beaten ass, as my tight disgusting gag made my face ache, and as I considered the prospect of my flogging to come, but at this precise moment I felt that Eddie was in an even worse situation than I was.
The Frat leader went first with a straightforward and violent rape if Eddie’s face while it hung upside down at the end of the fuck-table. He fucked with long deep thrusts which meant that he controlled Eddie’s breathing, and he didn’t seem to think that spluttering gasping Eddie needed to breathe that much. I know he lent down to Eddie at one point and said “Wang’s knife is right here – if I feel another tooth, I’ll cut off your dick and balls”, and I could see him pushing Eddie’s helpless head to any angle that suited him. I don’t know exactly who went second or third, but they started entering Eddie from both ends. The burning cream and punishment condoms seemed to keep Eddie alert and wriggling around as much as he could, shrieking, screaming and making weird guttural noises the whole time.
When they inserted a new sound with Icy Hot into Eddie’s pisshole, about 20 minutes into the rapes, it sent him hysterical. That was when Master Wang decided to keep Eddie’s mouth open with a big O-ring (albeit not the one with spikes like the one they used on me). Even that big ring obviously hurt a lot. Master Wang told Eddie “The most important thing is to keep our nice penises from those sharp teeth of yours, sub-boy – maybe I’ll give you some piss or diarrhoea when we’re finished to top you up after all the spunk – it's a good opportunity to teach you your place with that gag in place!”
While the Frat boys were having seconds and thirds with Eddie, they started getting crueller to keep themselves going. Master Wes twisted Eddie’s nipple clamps through a full 360 degrees, which must have been excruciating. Master Paul dug his nails into Eddie’s dick until it started to bleed. But finally they exhausted themselves.
“Leave it for an hour, boys”, said the Frat leader. “The sub-boy and the criminal slave are okay where they are – leave them both gagged – we don’t want any more fucking conversations – and clamp the slave’s dick!” The Frat leader threw a pretty nasty-looking plastic clamp over to Master Paul with a throwaway suggestion that it probably should be “tightened to maximum”. Master Paul snapped it on to my dickhead and tightened the hinge so it crushed me more. Then he spat in my face and left.
In various states of exhaustion and nudity, the Frat slipped away. I was left in agony. It was impossible to get my caned ass and injured asshole even slightly comfortable in any position and now my dickhead was being crushed too.
Eddie was exhausted and degraded after his gang-rape. His asshole dripped spunk and blood from multiple penetrations. It would take weeks to recover, especially after the punishment condoms had been used. He hadn’t been allowed any lube and his mouth had been forced open and raped so many times that his throat must be unbelievably sore. He was drooling dirty-looking cum, presumably mixed with some of his own shit, through his O-gag on to the floor, when Wang came back with his promised portion of diarrhoea and simply poured it through the O-gag and down Eddie’s throat. This time he didn’t puke but just let out a pitiful, and terrified, moan. After all, he still had a terrible beating to come. His life was over.
An hour or so later, the Frat returned in ones and twos for the next entertainments. Of course, Eddie and I were the reluctant stars.
“OK”, the Frat leader started in his matter-of-fact way, even though the circumstances were not matter-of-fact – two gagged naked men were waiting to be flogged. “We’re all a bit knackered with our exertions teaching the sub-boy some facts – ah, I see he’s been crying – he'll be crying a lot more in a few minutes. Anyway, it’s getting late so I suggest that we give half the punishments tonight and half tomorrow after classes. So that’ll be the hundred with the paddles for sub-boy and twenty-five with the whip on its front for the criminal slave. Since Eddie can’t whip the slave, can you do that please, Chris?” Chris nodded. I shook with fear because Chris, unlike Eddie, really knew how to whip – he knew how to handle these instruments and to hit what he aimed for.
The Frat leader continued: “Let’s do Eddie first. Then he can go and fetch those nice boxers from upstairs and we’ll mix in a few treats with his sick and my shit. Wang, what have you got for us?”
Wang produced the freezer-box marked “criminal slave” and opened it in the corner where he was sitting. Even the other Frat boys didn’t want to look inside the box. “Armpits and lips today! The last criminal slave was still very much alive when we cut these off it. They’ll go well with the sick. It’ll be fun to watch Eddie and this criminal slave share such a nice tasty meal.”
“Fuck, that’s horrible, over the top disgusting”, said Master Quentin and then half-smiled.
“Yeah”, Wang replied, “I can’t wait to hear this filthy criminal slave screaming that special kind of scream when a slave realises that it’s irreversibly, and very painfully, losing part of its own body.”
“Didn’t the last one have to eat two of its own fingers?” asked Master Wes.
“And one of its own balls”, said the Frat leader, who then added: “After the beatings and the meals, the slave and the punished sub-boy will be put to bed together in the dog cage. Anyone who needs to shit, piss or puke at that stage knows where to do it tonight.”
Eddie’s paddling was next. Two Frat boys tied him face down on the fuck-table. Eddie didn’t resist, but just looked hopeless. They tied his wrists and ankles to the heavy table’s legs. His bare feet rested on the floor which was still slippery with sweat and cum from the gang-rape. “The criminal slave can lick up the mess before its own whipping”, said the Frat leader.
They laid into Eddie’s ass full force. He had a slim ass. It was no well-padded bubble butt. Each fierce paddle-hit seemed to vibrate right up his spine and through his whole body. They had removed his gag, allowing him to curse, scream, yelp, beg and drool. His fair-skinned ass was bright red after just a dozen - with 88 hits remaining.
They used the worst paddles, thick hard-wood with holes drilled into them to increase the force of each hit. Different paddles made different whistling sounds as they repeatedly covered every square inch from the top of Eddie’s crack to the middle of his thighs. The sensitive line where his buttocks met his thighs was, of course, a special focus. That line, and about six inches either side of it, was crimson when the rest of Eddie’s ass was red. By the end of fifty, the whole of his ass was crimson with big dark blotches where the blood was clotting just under his skin.
Different Frat boys had different paddling techniques. Master Wes, for example was just full-power, quick-fire for his ten, probably producing the loudest shrieks from Eddie as the paddle slammed down on left buttock, right buttock, thigh-buttock line and asshole in quick succession, giving him no chance to breathe or prepare himself. Master Paul was slow and deliberate, all low – two mid-thigh in fact, which produced some extra squeals from Eddie. Others mixed their timing so Eddie didn’t know what to expect, which I think is the worst of all.
As the second fifty ground on, Eddie’s voice got hoarser and quieter. His pleading became more hopeless and pathetic - “Oh God, please – no more there – I can’t take any more – no-o!” By seventy he was bleeding in a couple of places and his buttocks were badly swollen. He was coming out in lumps. A heavy hit with a paddle could break the skin itself when it hit the top of a protruding lump. As his merciless hundred approached, Eddie’s legs and thighs started to shiver, a sign of a boy’s body in real distress. He made much less sound, just little screeches and grunts really, and he was bleeding in about half a dozen places.
“What do you say, Eddie, sub-boy?” asked the Frat leader after a hundred hits.
Eddie gave the required answer in a hoarse whisper: “Thank you, members of the Frat. Thank you, Sirs, for your punishment. I deserved it.”
“Right then, so you deserve ten more for pleading during the punishment?”
“No, no, no. Sir. Please. Please no more ...”
“That’s twenty then. Are you going to beg for twenty more or plead some more?”
“Oh God. Please, Sirs, give me twenty more for pleading. Please make them hard so I remember not to plead in future. Oh fuck – fuck – no”
The extra twenty, ten from the Frat leader and ten from Master Wang, were pitiful to watch. Eddie produced some guttural sounds as snot and tears poured out of him. His ass tore up some more and needed the painful spray they used on me to avoid the floor being covered in blood. The spraying seemed to wake Eddie and he started struggling and screaming like he had before.
They untied him and dragged him over to the metal pole, and reattached him by his ankles and balls. He could only stay standing because they also recuffed his hands and attached them to the ceiling rope. I’ve never seen someone who more obviously wanted to pass out or, at that moment, to die. He was in absolute agony and he had been degraded beyond his worst nightmares, and he knew there was still his caning and other punishments to come.
“Chris, how do you want the criminal slave for its first whipping?” asked the Frat leader.
“We’ll get it leaning back with its dick and balls sticking out – but hasn’t it got to lick up the mess first?”
I was finally released from my spike-seat. Master Chris noticed I still had a few tacks stuck in my ass. “Leave the tacks – no, push them in to make sure they stay.”
Master Chris pushed five tacks individually into my ass-flesh. He shook them about to make sure they hurt. Then he pulled them out one by one, dipped them in the tub of Icy Hot they’d been using on Eddie and re-inserted them into me. It was like a succession of agonising wasp stings.
“On your knees, fuckface. Crawl to where Eddie was raped and paddled, and lick that floor spotless – you've got five minutes, filth-slave or I’ll insert twenty more tacks, tear up your asshole and dump a pile of Icy Hot up that nasty orifice. Get on with it!”
I scooted across the floor to the smelly puddles of drying cum, bits of shit and pools of drool and sweat. I licked them up frantically, using my hands to scoop the mess into places where I could suck it off the dirty floor. It was disgusting but I managed it. Now it was time for my frontal whipping.
I shook as they made me stand in the whipping frame. There were chains with cuffs in each corner and Master Chris attached these to my wrists and ankles. Then came Master Chris’s “bit of fun”. He firmly fixed a dildo on to the table they’d used for Eddie’s rape and paddling, so that the top of it was just level with my asshole. Then he fixed a kind of razor wire cap on the dildo. The modified dildo-tip fitted neatly into my asshole and the sticking-out pieces of razor sharp wire started to cut into the wounds already there. Master Chris pulled it out and for good measure painted the razor wire blades with Icy Hot. When my asshole came into contact with those blades, in fact with that whole instrument of torture, I automatically thrust my whole midriff forwards to avoid contact with it. In this way, I seemed to offer my dick and balls for slaughter from Master Chris’s whip. It was the cruellest imaginable dilemma – my injured asshole ripped to pieces or my dick and balls offered to the whip.
“Fuck, that’s nasty”, said Master Quentin.
“That’s the plan”, smiled Master Chris. “Wait till I get going with this”, and he cracked the whip in the air and brought it down on the ground in front of me with such force that I thought he’d sliced the floor itself. I jumped back slightly and a razor cut my ass-lip. I screamed and quickly presented my cock and balls for whipping again.
Master Chris turned to me: “I prefer this whip, criminal slave, to the one Eddie chose – it's a simple very hard leather single-tail – none of the energy will be dissipated into extra strands. His was for amateurs. The whole force of every stroke of this leather beast will hit your skin and slice into it. I’ve got twenty-five strokes right now. That’s five on your slave-penis, five on your slave-balls, five on your slave-nipples, and two each on your filthy feet and shins and worthless fucking thighs. We’ll see about the last four when we get to them. Probably it’ll be back to your penis but, if that’s already dropped off, I’ll have a go at your fucking eyes and mouth – imagine that, filth, my whip ripping into your nasty face.”
“OK”, said the Frat leader. “Number one”.
Master Chris lifted his horrible whip, cracked it in the air, and brought it down with full force on top of my dick. I felt nothing for an instant. I was just aware of a hiss and a thud. It took a second for my dick to explode with pain. As the pain intensified over the next few moments, I yelled uselessly, but I didn’t dare look down. I thought my dick was destroyed and gone. When I eventually looked, I saw a deep red gash, bleeding in places, from my shaved pubic area across the lower part of my dick, starting on the right side at the very root and leaving it about an inch higher on the left side, and continuing to the top of my left thigh. As I screamed incoherently, the pain just spread and got worse for the best part of a minute, when Master Chris lifted the whip for his second stroke.
“Number two”.
Another terrifying crack, whistle and thud and another explosion of pain. This time it was further up my dick, again at an angle starting in the middle of the shaft and leaving it just below the ridge at the base of my glans. This time it penetrated deeper into my penis-flesh. The whole whip-line was bleeding this time, and some drops rolled down my dick and on to the floor. I started to feel very sick. I realised that this was just an incredibly cruel way to remove my a penis. How could I still have a penis after three more hits like this?
The pain was now so intense and all-consuming that I missed the call for “number three”, but it inevitably came. Master Chris had changed the angle of the whip’s approach so it came from the side rather than above. This was the difference between an amateur like Eddie would have been and a professional like Master Chris. He knew how to hurt. He was accurate. His number three slashed just a fraction above my pisshole. My dick flew downwards as the whip made contact with my glans-flesh. I jolted backwards on to the razor-sharp dildo, cutting a new area of my anal ring before I thrust myself forwards again. The searing pain from the tip of my penis was made worse when I looked down and realised that the latest whip-stroke had also actually skinned a section of the under-side of my shaft. A good couple of inches of skin hung loose from the raw under-side of my dick. I puked. “Eddie can clear that up later”, someone said. The pain pulsed. My genitals were going to be destroyed. I still stuck them out for the whip to avoid the terrifying razor-wire dildo poking at my asshole.
“Number four”.
The whip slammed into the whole length of the top of my penis. “I want to make your stinking dick useless, criminal slave.” It produced another indescribable burst of pain. The very end of the hard leather whip, travelling at incredible speed, had bitten into the top of my penis at the root and practically dug a hole there. I screamed from the terrible pain but also from the fear that the fifth and final penis stroke could actually cut off the whole of my dick at the root if it hit the same place again.
“Number five”.
In the event, the fifth stroke more or less went over the line of torture created by the first stroke, creating two or three little fountains of blood, as the whip sliced into my shaft. It also flew across my sensitive bald pubic area and bit into my thigh. The fact that my penis was still attached to my body was a relief, but I knew it was badly injured. There was now quite a pool of blood on the floor which had joined with the puddle of sick I had vomited up a few moments before. The torturing pain was beyond description. It just kept increasing. Every now and again, I stopped thrusting my genitals forward for a second, but a quick cut from the razor-sharp dildo had me offering my sex organs up for the whip again and again.
“Number six”.
“Time for me to deal with your balls, criminal slave. None of us cares if you’re permanently damaged. Your body is filth, not fit feeding to pigs. We just want to give you the punishment you need.” He lifted the whip and bent his legs slightly so he had a direct line to my balls.
I heard the crack of the whip. I heard the whistle and the thud. I felt unbelievable pain radiating from the area of my balls. What of the balls themselves? Had I been castrated with one terrifying stroke of Master Chris’s whip?
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