Slut Boy Mega Collection Volume 1

Chapter Three-2

The men were delivering a big bondage table and torture plinth. The flat top was an x-shaped cross, built of leather-covered oak. This was covered with what were clearly over a dozen built-in restraining belts. Gears and levers on the side indicated that this padded plinth could be tilted and secured from horizontal to absolutely upright vertical, perhaps even spun through a full 360 degrees.

The tattooed men, all shaved, bald heads and bulging muscles, puffed and grunted and installed this menace right at the nexus of the intersecting mirrors. Then they turned to look at me, squirming apprehensively in my ridiculous Slut-boy outfit, with my throbbing erection upholding and even bobbing its weight of pearls. Both big men were grinning, shifting themselves to come between me and rest of the house.

They both wore denim coveralls, with a long zipper down the front and patches with their names on the breast. The one called Bull was sprouting an impressive tent behind his as he reached out and swung shut the door. “Melinda said you’d have a tip for us,” grinned Rod, fiddling with his zipper and popping his own straining tent. He and his partner closed in on me from either side. “She said you’d want to show us your appreciation personally.”

How could she do this to me? And how was I supposed to do it to myself? I wasn’t gay! Yet I had no choice here. Mistress Melinda wouldn’t tolerate a refusal. And neither would these big hard men presumably, who were already pulling down their zippers to reveal furry chests, hard bellies, and finally those even harder up-jutting fluid-filled s*x organs. It was either willingly acquiesce or be forcibly raped here, and despite my still-reluctant horror, my own inexplicably urgent erection willed me to comply. In one last attempt to avoid my worst nightmare, I pre-empted the situation, opting for the lesser of two evils. I dropped to my knees as Rod approached me, and when he grabbed my head and forced it to his prick, I opened up and accepted him.

Right away he thrust deep into my gullet, both men laughing as I gagged helplessly. Brutally Rod f****d my face, reveling in my first-timer’s distress. For over five minutes then he skewered me, until I at last began to accommodate myself to his size, heat, and rhythm. But then Bull began clamoring for his turn.

“Come on, Rod! Either blow your load or move on over! My monster thinks it’s feeding time too!”

And at that point the nightmare overcame me. Rod pulled out of my mouth, and he grunted, “Oh all right. I guess I’m wet and slippery enough for the other end now anyways.” As if my weight and being were negligible, Rod and Bull suddenly picked me up and swung me over facedown onto the bed. Then before I could even protest they were stationed at either end, and forcing their way into my vulnerable opposing holes.

I was at least partially adapted to having a c**k shoved down my throat, so when big Bull replaced Rod’s throbbing rod with his own even larger one, I wasn’t that traumatized – comparatively speaking, at least. But when Rod’s hard, pointed wet prick pushed through my panties’ slit and into my ass, I almost swooned with conflicting shame, self-hatred, agony and disgustingly perverted arousal. Then with the two of them f*****g me from both ends I soon suffered more simultaneous pleasure and anguish than I’d ever dreamed possible, until at last they each built to a pounding crescendo and ejaculated inside me.

My throat couldn’t taste it, nor could my ass. But neither passage was so bruised that it didn’t feel that slimy wetness spurting, spurting, spurting so hotly up into me. I was in a daze of shamed satiation when at last the two men pulled out, slapped their hands, zipped up and coerced my signature. Then they chuckled at a job well done, and left me sprawled out on the once again disheveled bed to await the return of my mistress.

***

I meant to get up and straighten things out before she got back. I remembered well her many threats. Yet what punishment could possibly be worse than what I’d just endured? I was so wrung-out physically and emotionally that I actually dozed off for a while. Mistress Melinda’s screech of fury jerked me back to life.

“Look at this bed! Slut-boy! You lazy piece of contemptible s**t! I thought I ordered you to get all the housework done! And here I find you napping on a messy bed? Look what’s happened to your hair! Explain yourself, slave!”

“I...I...I did have the housework done, Mistress. But then the deliverymen came, two big bald men, bringing your present, and they...they...they pushed me down and raped me!”

“Raped you, did they? Fought them tooth and nail, did you? The way I hear it, they just gave you what you wanted – begged for, even. They said you sucked them off like a professional sissy-slut, and squealed like a virgin piglet while they double-f****d you silly. Isn’t that the real truth, Slut-boy?” Once again I hung my head. But once again my c**k belied me by stiffening and rising. So emphatically did it soon stick up that no verbal answer seemed necessary. Nevertheless Mistress demanded one. She dumped her bags and packages on the bed next to me and then smacked me hard across the cheek.

“I asked you a question, slave!”

“Yes, Mistress!” I cried. Utterly conquered somehow by what I’d recently been through, I told her what she wanted to hear: the entire shameful truth. “I did it for you, Mistress! I knew it was what you wanted and expected. I sucked on both of their c***s and let one of them f**k my ass. And I was horrified and disgusted by it, but also aroused. I just had to obey you! Obeying you and serving you is what gets me hard. See how big I am for you, Mistress, just talking about it? Please won’t you forgive me already, and use me for yourself, my wonderful, fabulously beautiful mistress?”

“No! I won’t forgive you, Slut-boy! I don’t care how badly you just got your sissy little brains f****d out. You loved it and you admit it. That’s no excuse for failing to do your housework. Before you get any more undeserved s*x, you’re going to have to be most rigorously disciplined. It’s time for you and me to break in all the new gifts you just bought me. Get on that cross, Slut-boy! Lie back and spread your arms and legs!”

I’d been both resigned to this moment and dreading it since I’d first seen that plinth moving in. The size and permanence of such a weighty piece of furniture suggested that Melinda had plans for using it far beyond just this particular birthday. But what I’d just said had also been true. For some reason bowing to my mistress aroused me madly. And if I could survive being sissified and gang-raped for her, then surely I could endure whatever bondage and discipline she intended, for however long, and even come out more in love with and harder for her than ever. I rose from the bed and knelt at her feet. “Yes, Mistress Melinda. I love and adore you, my goddess. Happy birthday!”

Again Melinda smacked me hard across the face. “Shut up, Slut-boy! I gave you no order to speak! Your amount of punishment just doubled for that!” She grabbed me by the ear and dragged me into the mirrored alcove then. Surrounded by infinite images of myself, I lay down flat on the adjustable X-shaped table and spread my arms and legs out wide. Mistress lost no time in using the many built-in belts to bind me to it extensively.

Strapped out spread-eagled and cross-dressed, still painted-up like a slut and trickling out my first hot load, I waited then while Melinda doffed her jacket and began opening packages. I was distracted for a bit by the endlessly repeating images of myself as a captive torture-slut all around, but when Mistress turned and stepped back up sporting several of her new ‘gifts’ she effortlessly claimed my undivided attention.

Spiked black leather collars now circled her neck and wrists, sparkling against that pale freckled flesh. She wore short black gauntlets and carried a large, heavy whip of many thin, flat black thongs of over a meter long. And although above the tight corset her muscular arms and giant breasts still swelled up intimidatingly huge, it wasn’t the big flogger or the spectacular upper body that powered it that most jolted me about her now. It was what she brandished below the corset, at the junction of her columnar legs. My wife had strapped a long, thick, wickedly ridged dildo to her crotch, a dangerous phallus that curved up like a tusk and preceded even her enormous t**s as she approached me.

I squirmed in my bonds, or tried to anyway, but it was of no avail. I was far more helpless than even when trapped between the two big brutes on the bed. No doubt that was the whole point, for Melinda laughed as she unwound the string of pearls, relishing my fruitless struggles. “Oh, yeah, Slut-boy, I’ve got a big old hard-on for you, too, baby. There’s plenty more of what you got this afternoon coming your way. Just you wait! But first you’ve got some serious punishment to endure, before the sublime pleasure’s allowed. Here are a few more little gifts I picked up this afternoon!”

Mistress produced a small contraption of black leather straps. This proved to be a harness, with spikes on both the in and outside, which she proceeded to secure tightly about my genitals. This cinched my erection up even higher, trapping blood into it and semen out of it, ensuring that I remained constantly pained and hopelessly hard. My balls were separated and restrained as well, and drawn out away from my anus, which was already still sore from being plundered before. Big spring clamps came next, pinching onto each testicle, festooning the veiny shaft, and sprouting in every direction from the swollen head of my tortured erection. Two more clamps were attached to each of my n*****s, and then finally My Lady considered me fit for whipping.

“Now then, Slut-boy! It’s time to revive an old tradition: the birthday spanking – or in this case, whipping. And of course, in this case it’s the birthday girl who does the whipping, instead of the other way around. I’ll teach you to leave a messy bed! Take this, my incompetent new slave-maid!”

She swung the whip, slashing its long leather floggers across my chest and belly. I sucked in a breath and screamed in pain at the impact. Already writhing with agony from the harness and clamps, I felt a fresh infusion of fire at this that temporarily overloaded my senses. I went blank with shock for almost a second, before the full amount of agony flooded through. Then I howled so loudly that I could hardly hear Mistress correcting me as I did so.

“That’s ‘one’!” she yelled. “If you’re going to continue to speak without permission, then you can count for me. I get thirty strokes for my birthday, which is automatically doubled to sixty for speaking out of turn. We double that again, for leaving a messy bed, and you’re up to one hundred and twenty. I’m going to tack on an extra thirty strokes, just because I hear you’re such a slutty little c**k-sucking come-funnel, and that brings our grand total up to a nice round number of a hundred and fifty strokes of my whip. Every time you lose count I’m going to start over, too, so if you don’t want to spend all day waiting for your next brutal-ass butt f*****g, you’d better pay attention. Now yell ‘two’!”

Mistress swung again, scoring me with new welts of red. Staggered by the scale of the ordeal ahead, I somehow obeyed. As my next shriek of pain peeled out, I managed to get my vocal cords around it in order to tune it into an actual word – or even a number, to be precise. Then she swung again, and I found another number, managing to keep them in the right order as both my acknowledging screams and the amount of pain raving throughout me constantly ascended.

Remorselessly Melinda whipped me, methodical and relentless despite my desperate struggles and obviously overwhelming agony. By ten strokes she’d covered my chest in cherry-red, and by twenty-five she’d knocked the clamps from their grip on my n*****s. These teeth flying away were bright spears of pinpoint pain in the raging inferno of my nervous system, and Mistress took them as a signal to move on. My legs and thighs next came under assault, suffering the same treatment as my chest, and then at precisely stroke forty-three the floggers first struck my groin straight on.