I don’t think they even gave me 15 minutes before they checked on me to see if I’d done a good enough job cleaning up my own mess in my stinking toilet cell. The dog-shit rag which had been used to gag me the day before had dried so I was able to get rid of the worst of my piss and shit from the floor, but there was no way that the bare concrete floor where I’d been forced to spend the night was going to look anything like clean.
“Filthy criminal slave”, said Master Chris with a smirk, “That’s 20 strokes of the cane from me and 10 with the martinet between your legs and in your crack from Master Eddie.” "And", added Master Eddie, "You've still got a session with the prison strap for spitting out that slave-lump - I don't forget these things, criminal slave".
They made me lick up the last bits of my mess from the night and then made me crawl out to a steel flogging trestle they hadn’t used yet. It was a simple structure which looked like two inverted Vs joined at the top with wide round bars half-way up each side. On one side, where I was made to stand, there were chains welded at ankle level, and I had to stand while Master Eddie attached me to them. I was now standing with my legs spread widely facing into the trestle.
Master Chris selected a long rattan punishment cane from a batch of canes hanging on the wall. “They use this kind of cane for beating criminals in places like Singapore – it's very dense and it hurts, cunt-slave, which is why it’s suitable for you. We got the idea for this flogging trestle from there too, and we’re taking it with us so the frat can use it for your punishments when they want. We’ve made it so you have to spread your legs wide. That’ll help Master Eddie hurt you more with the martinet.”
I thought that they were going to stretch my naked body upwards with my hands cuffed to a short chain hanging from the very top on my side of the trestle. But apparently that was only for flogging with a whip on the back and buttocks. On this occasion, Master Eddie pulled the top half of my body forwards to the metal bar on the other side and chained my wrists on that far side at about the same level as my waist. He pulled me until I was uncomfortably stretched and on tiptoes, with the metal bar on the side where I was standing pushing hard into my nearly bald pubic patch and just above my genitals. Basically, I was just leaning forward from a near-vertical position up as far as my waist and pulled horizontally forward above my waist. My ass stuck out and I couldn’t move it. I was in the perfect position for Master Chris to cane me.
“You’ve still got welts from last time”, said Master Chris as he walked behind me, “so this will hurt a lot. You’ll count, thank me, and ask me for the next one each time. If you don’t do it clearly and politely, I’ll repeat that stroke.”
“Is that clear, you heap of shit?”, asked Master Eddie. “It’ll be the same for me when this martinet flies up between your legs, and then for the prison strap.”
“Y-yes, Masters. Thank you, Masters”
Master Chris wasn’t inclined to waste any more time. He whistled his terrifying cane, touched my ass with it, and the next thing was another loud whistle and searing pain, a line of fire which just built and built. I writhed and I yelled in agony. In my haze of pain, I completely forgot to thank Master Chris or to count.
“You didn't thank your Master. Take it again, slave”, said Master Chris. The pain barely subsided and the same piece of my naked ass suffered again. Once more I screamed and writhed but somehow forced myself to say “One! Thank you, Master Chris: may I please have number two, Sir?”
In this way, Master Chris, the experienced caner, tortured my buttocks, and tortured the area where my buttocks and thighs meet, and tortured the tops of my thighs, with his rattan cane. He was relentless. Each stroke was a line of extreme, almost unbearable, punishment. I pulled desperately at my chains as agony piled on agony. Somehow I counted until 17 when Master Chris caned diagonally from right to left, and made the tip of the cane fly down my left thigh directly on to a mountainous welt which had risen from a particularly severe stroke on the exact same stretch of flesh a couple of strokes before. The welt was already seeping blood from that first brutal assault. This second stroke immediately caused my whole right side to spasm and shake uncontrollably – I shrieked like a banshee and my left buttock and thigh started to shake as if they were made of jelly. I could feel blood dripping down the back of my thigh and on to my calf.
In my overwhelming pain and fear, I forgot to count or thank Master Chris.
“Make it go back to the beginning”, said Master Eddie.
“Nah, I’ll repeat that stroke, and give the cunt one more, but we don’t want it to faint. We’re going to start it on its get-well regime tomorrow", and he turned to me "Endless hours of repeated physical exercises so you looks good when you arrive at the frat, cunt. We want you in pain for those exercises. The welts will make it fucking agony doing stretches. You’ll scream as you do your fucking forced exercises and then we’ll punish you. cunt, with electric shocks.”
Then Master Chris said: “Sixteen and seventeen again, criminal slave. Beg now!”
And so I begged and the stroke was repeated – from the other side on to my right thigh – it was agony, but I managed to say “Sixteen! Thank you, Master Chris: may I please have number seventeen, Sir?”
I survived the last four strokes. But I wouldn’t have been able to stay standing if I hadn’t been held up by the steel flogging trestle.
Master Eddie was now caressing the dozen or so hard leather cords of his martinet. Then he held the thick handle and pulled the cords gently over my face. “I’m going to use this on your dick and balls, and up your disgusting crack, slave. Don’t forget to thank me and count, like with the caning. When we’re at the frat, we’re going to tie you on your back with your legs spread out above you – then you’ll really feel the martinet – and they’ve also got two martinets with knots in the leather – nice when the knots hit your dick. For now, I just want flick these nasty pieces of leather on to your helpless dick and balls from underneath. It’ll hurt like fucking hell, and you’ll then be able to imagine the pain a martinet punishment can cause on the most sensitive parts of your body from above at full force. You’ll be terrified of the martinet. Prepare yourself, criminal slave!”.
Master Eddie grunted as he whacked my dick and balls upwards as hard as he could, swinging the martinet from behind him. As the pain spread through my aching balls, my inner thighs and my exposed hanging-down dick, I cried out hopelessly for mercy. “I’m waiting, slave” said Master Eddie. “One! Thank you, Master Eddie. May I please have number two?”
Master Eddie changed position slightly and more of the hard leather strands smashed into my penis this time. One strand definitely smashed straight on to my piss-slit. I could barely speak as the leather tore my super-sensitive slit, ripping the lips of my pisshole. With my head hanging over the front of the trestle, I could see drops of blood hitting the floor under my dick. The blood seemed to come from inside my dick, where the skin and the urethra meet. The leather had cut deep. “Two! Thank you, Master Eddie. May I please have number three?” “Quicker this time, slave – or I’ll start over”.
The next two smashed mainly on to my balls. I managed to croak my thanks and ask for another each time. My inner thighs were raw from the whipping by hard leather, and the lower end of my ass-crack started to bleed slightly. Master Eddie’s final stroke, delivered with all the strength he could muster, saw at least two strands hit my asshole itself, and the whipping leather really roughed up my sensitive perineum. Two or three more strands didn’t just hit the under-side of my dick but wrapped themselves round it. “Five!”, I forced myself to speak - “Thank you Master Eddie. I’m learning my lesson.”
I had momentarily forgotten about the prison-strap. Master Chris held up a thick strap with a wooden handle. It was big. The brown leather was thick and, by the look of it, oiled to keep it flexible. "This fucker is eighteen inches long and four inches wide and it has ten holes, each about an inch across, drilled into it - you can see that each hole has a metal ring to keep it open. When I beat you with this prison-strap, the leather will curve round your swollen caned ass, biting everywhere. That heavy leather will flatten your cane-welts which, I assure you, will be an unpleasant and excruciating experience. The extra torture with each stroke is that those holes will suck up bits of your ass-skin making super-sensitive little red mounds of flesh- I've seen it on slaves at home but never on top of several canings so this will be even more extreme. And then, of course, those torturous little mounds will be crushed on the next stroke and new little mounds will come up. You'll learn to respect the prison-strap, slave. You're getting ten now. Don't bother counting - you won't be able to anyway. Just scream - we enjoy that".
That first experience of the prison-strap made me realise that my punishments so far, even those clamps on my scraped penis, being forced to eat shit and vomit, the brutal canings, could not really be described as torture when compared with the prison-strap. The pain took over completely for those ten terrible strokes. It was my whole world. I don't know if I screamed: I guess I did. I'm not even sure that I breathed. When it came to an end, I was barely conscious, and then gradually the terrible pain in my ass increased until it was like an explosion. Then I definitely screamed and I cursed. I remember asking what I'd done to deserve what they were doing to me, but I think my cruel teen-boy masters had gone by then.
They left me then for a good half-hour. I hung on that punishment trestle – they had left me chained to it, gradually coming back to full consciousness, realising where I was, and hurting everywhere.
When they returned, it was with a small spray-can of their hot chilli oil. “Hold it open”, said Master Chris. Master Eddie then grabbed my torn buttocks and exposed my hole even more than my spread legs already had. Master Chris fixed a kind of plastic straw to the spray can and, without warning, shoved the straw up my hole. I felt a spray of liquid spread through my asshole. He continued for about half a minute until it started dripping out. “Disgusting”, said Master Eddie. Then the oil started to burn, at first sharply and then unendurably. I started to moan then cry out in desperation as the burn turned to agony. “Shut the fuck up, slave,” said Master Chris “unless you want me to spray your face. A proper ass punishment includes your fucking nasty hole as well as your crack and buttocks. Expect pain-inducing oil, sprays and hard sharp objects up your disgusting hole to go before or after every caning in future.”
Then Master Chris turned to Master Eddie and said with a chuckle, “I think it needs more asshole training right now.” “Do you agree with that, filth?” My ass was still in agony and still dripping with blood from where the cane welts had crossed each other. My dick and balls had been tortured with the heavy flogging martinet. My asshole already felt like it was about to explode with burning. But what could I say as Master Eddie smiled and lifted the chilli oil to threaten my face? “My slave asshole needs to be trained and tortured more. Thank you, Masters. Please treat me as I deserve to be treated. Thank you for punishing me severely”.
They released me and ordered me to crawl outside to the drain where I’d previously been allowed to piss and shit. I saw two wooden pallets on the ground, apparently nailed one on top of the other. I was told to climb on top and lie belly-down with my legs trailing on the ground behind me. Master Chris used two long leather straps to tie me to the pallets, one around my stomach and lower back and one below my shoulders and under my armpits. Then he used some thick rope to connect the two straps down my spine. Master Eddie opened a leg-spreader to the maximum. My legs were spread even wider than for my caning – I felt as if my groin would tear if they opened another inch.
Finally, Master Chris got out his spray can again and sprayed more of the horrible burning liquid up my asshole and this time also over my punished ass and balls. “Keeping you warm, criminal slave”, laughed Master Eddie, “while we prepare extra tortures”. I started to shake and then I did a shit right in front of them, from fear.
“Today’s your last full punishment day”, Master Chris told me, as I stopped screaming from the new intense burning: “You’re getting the cane again for shitting yourself. Then it’s your meal of slave-lumps. Then we’ll stick this object up your asshole”. He held in front of me an object a bit like a large screwdriver, but then I realised that the shaft of the screwdriver was different. It was thicker than a normal screwdriver and its shaft wasn’t a piece of straight metal but a kind of plastic tube. Master Chris told me to watch carefully as he pushed the tube into the mud. He pulled on a little plastic lever and the tube filled with the mud. Then he emptied the tube with a kind of thick plastic stick which fitted exactly inside the tube and all the mud fell back on to the ground. Then he took another tubeful of mud, and this time he forced it painfully up my asshole, and emptied the mud inside me. “Do you like mud up your asshole slave? “Yes, thank you Masters, it’s an honour when you put mud inside me”. It was certainly humiliating and made me feel like I wanted to shit again, but obviously I didn't dare to do that.
Master Eddie continued enthusiastically, “Your Masters can use this to pick up whatever we want to put up your asshole and force it as far inside you as we want. Later, the frat boys intend to wrap thin pieces of barbed wire round it for extra torture as it goes in and out. They'll probably do that regularly, because they're cruel bastards, to tear your soft asshole flesh again and again”. “Yeah, we're nice compared with them”, chimed Master Chris and laughed at his own joke.
Master Chris went on to explain to me, giggling at the recollection: “I punish my criminal slaves at home by forcing horse-shit up their assholes. Their assholes get completely filled with horse-shit if they misbehave. It’s a good punishment, super-humiliating and, especially if it’s combined with something like our chilli oil, it's fucking painful because horse-shit's full of bits of scratchy straw and gravel. It's not a nice feeling. They scream for hours.”
“Later I’m going to shove some of my shit from that bowl in your toilet cell up your asshole to join that mud – after all you’ll be eating the shit tomorrow anyway, so it can go into your nasty asshole from both ends.” Master Eddie burst out laughing and high-fived Master Chris at that thought. "It’s quite acidic, which is why it stinks so much, so it’ll be very painful combined with the oil that’s already in there, but we'll top it up anyway”.
“Let’s leave it to think about it for a bit”, said Master Eddie starting to walk away. Then he stopped and turned, walked up to my front, smiled, opened his fly. His dick was half-erect, so it took him a moment. Then he pissed all over my face and head.
They snogged in front of me and then walked away, leaving me with smelly piss dripping from my hair down my neck and down my face, on to my lips and into my mouth, with my asshole in torturing pain, and with another caning to look forward to, followed by more asshole torture.
They returned after about an hour. The agony in my asshole from the hot oil had hardly reduced at all and I was writhing continuously, unable to change my position or get any relief. the mud was becoming more irritating - I guess it had a grit in it. Master Eddie’s piss had mostly dried on my face although my hair still felt damp. My balls and dick, in fact the whole front of my body, were getting more and more uncomfortable rubbing up against the hard splintery pallets – Master Chris had tied me extra tightly: he’d explained to Master Eddie, “That slave has got to learn it mustn’t move a fucking muscle when I’m caning it.” Now the tight leather straps bit sorely into my back and shoulders, adding their own extra level of pain and misery.
“We’re going to cane you again now”, said Master Chris, “ten from me and ten from Master Eddie. Why, slave?”
“Because I was filthy and did a shit when you tied me down, Master”
“Should I cane you extra-hard for being filthy, you cunt?”
“Yes please, Master, teach this criminal slave cunt an extra-hard lesson”.
Master Eddie took over: “After we’ve caned you, you’ll stay tied down while you eat your slave-lumps. You’ll stand up while we jet-wash you – we don’t want your stinking mess in our dungeon. You’ll crawl all the way to your toilet-dungeon – that won’t be nice over the stony ground here. Later we’ll tie you up for the night. It won’t be a nice night for you , criminal slave, because we’re going to shove Master Chris's shit up your asshole and then I've got some steel spike-balls to block the entrance of your asshole to stop any of the shit or chilli oil getting out. It'll all stay in all night, filthy boy”. I looked and saw an innocent-looking bowl and Master Eddie tipped it to show me its punishing contents, half a dozen shiny steel balls about the size of marbles but covered in tiny spikes, each spike only a millimetre or two long, but sharp and strong enough, I realised, when they penetrated the flesh at the entrance of my asshole, to hold the balls in position and block the entrance. They would add horribly to the punishment. Then I noticed that there were also a few tiny balls, not much bigger than pellets but also with little spikes on them. Master Eddie added with a nice smile: “Any hint of resistance or disobedience, criminal slave, and I’ll shove those nasty little things up your dick”.
Master Chris now picked up his cane: “This is one of my favourite canes, filth. I use it on slaves at home – it bends into all the curves of your ass and it stings like hell everywhere – nowhere escapes – especially like this when you’re stretched out and can’t move a fucking inch ...”
I screamed and yelped and begged through their twenty strokes. This time, Master Eddie’s wild flailing with this highly flexible cane, slamming into the back of my legs, my hips and my lower spine was almost worse than Master Chris’s systematic welting and cutting.
I was still tied to the pallets when, after the caning, they forced four of the most disgusting slave-lumps down my throat with a dirty cup full of Master Chris’s piss (with an unpleasant gob spat into it by Master Eddie) to wash them down.
I could barely stand when they released me, and I kept falling as they jet-washed me afterwards “One more fucking time and you’ll get those spikes in your dick”, Master Eddie threatened. I was naked on slippery stony ground where they had ordered me to stand for my jet-wash. As the powerful and freezing jets smashed into my bruised balls and ass, it was impossible to stay upright. I fell twice. In the end, they jet-washed me as I lay sprawled on the ground. I knew that my dick would pay the price with Master Eddie’s horrible spike-balls.
Maser Eddie had been right. It was a long painful crawl back to my toilet-cell, stopping now and again to lick it up when one of my teen Masters spat on the floor. When we finally arrived, they just locked me in till the evening, lying on the concrete floor and inhaling the stink from Master Chris’s shit.
Footsteps – door unlocked – and “Time for night-time screaming, criminal slave”, said Master Eddie with a cheerful smile. They tied me face down with my arms chained around the base of the toilet. Then they used the new torture tool to suck up an asshole-full of Master Chris’s shit and simply shoved it as far as they could up my hole, and released it. They did it twice more. My asshole was ready to explode. It felt like they'd pushed shit all the way up back up my bowels and into my stomach. I was full from the entrance of my hole to my prostate. Nothing more could be forced in.
“Time for the spike balls, criminal slave”, said Master Eddie as he put on some gloves and then did something which made me panic, a cruelty I hadn't expected. He covered four spiked metal balls with super glue. I felt the pain from each spike as Master Eddie pushed them one by one into my ass. They penetrated and tore super-sensitive and already-beaten and chilli-punished flesh. Master Chris laughed and confirmed my worst fears: "The super-glue means nothing gets out and those little spike-balls will have to be ripped out along with pieces of lumps of your slave-skin. I panted and sweated as Master Eddie completely bunged up the entrance to my asshole. The spikes ruined the entrance of my shit-filled hole. There was no way until they released me that I could shit out the stuffed-in mass of Master Chris’s waste which was already giving me painful cramps.
They turned me the other way up, securing the spike balls in place as my ass crunched into the concrete floor. By now I could barely even scream. Master Eddie sat on my stomach and grabbed my dick, forcing open my piss-slit. He took two of the pellet-sized spike balls and used a toothpick to shove them unlubricated into my urethra. I went dizzy and I thought I’d pass out from the pain.
Unfortunately, instead of passing out, I was told to watch as Master Chris added a bit more shit to his pile (replacing some of what had just got up my asshole) and Master Eddie pissed in my drinking water like the previous night. They kissed and fondled each other. They explored each others' faces and mouths as they stood in front of me." As they left, holding hands, turned on by my endless punishments, Master Chris turned to me and said "No sex for you ever, criminal slave, "just pain and dirt. We get off on your torture, so it’s not going to stop – not ever. You'll never get used to it, but there's nothing you can do."
The next morning, Master Chris cheerfully pointed to the big bowl containing his rotted stinking excrement and said “Wake up, criminal slave! Breakfast time!”
Master Eddie looked more serious and said “Listen, criminal slave, after we’ve made you eat all – and I mean all – of Master Chris’s truly disgusting shit, we’ve got a week to get you fresh for the frat’s torture-boys. You’ll stay in the dungeon and we’ll make you do lots of exercises to get fit – you’ll be forced to eat loads of vile, but good-for-you, slave lumps. We’re not going to cane you or whip you for a week, but Master Chris has got an electric prod which we’re both keen to use all over your nasty naked criminal-slave-body. He’ll use it to make sure you do all your exercises. He likes to turn it up to the max, which you won’t enjoy.
“Any hesitations or disobedience won’t just be punished with immediate electric shocks, but will also count as demerits when you get to the frat. There, demerits mean torture, such as severe ass-punishments, unbelievable toilet humiliation, genital torture beyond your worst imagining, brutal and long-lasting punishments in stress positions in front of the whole frat that will keep you screaming in pain – and them laughing – for hours on end.
“Look forward to it, filth, and don’t forget, even without demerits, you’ll wish you were dead within a day or two of arriving in that place. There are eight top-class sadists in the frat who are looking forward to meeting you. I’ve heard about some of their ideas. Remember, you’re worth nothing, criminal slave, so it doesn’t matter what we do to you”.
Master Chris smiled, as he released my arms from the toilet and immediately handcuffed me. “Now crawl over to that nice big shit-bowl, criminal slave, and start eating the food you deserve ... Then, if you’re lucky, we’ll rip some of the spike-balls out of your ass and dick ... or maybe we’ll leave them for a bit longer ...”
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