Slut Boy Mega Collection Volume 1

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Home Coming

I came home from work (I own and run a fashionable – and highly profitable – fetish shop) to find my husband just as I left him that morning.

Not that I had any doubt about this of course. He’d have to be Harry Houdini to change his extravagantly strait circumstances in a hundred centuries, much less a day. But still it gave me a familiar charge of sadistic satisfaction to see my slave hung there so abject and helpless, and to imagine all the outrageous suffering he’d already endured for me in my absence.

He was still naked of course. And he was still bound upright to the meter-diameter pillar standing alone in the center of the foyer of our unbelievably lavish California villa. But what really got my juices flowing – like always – was the way he dangled there, with his toes over two feet off the floor and his body supported only by the thin, coarse hemp ropes.

Before I left this morning, I placed a small footstool at the base of that big pillar facing toward the door. Then I ordered my Slut-boy to stand upon it with his back against the pillar. Once he complied I picked up the first of many long coils of rope.

I measured out the length until I found the exact middle of it. Then I doubled it over. I found the middle again, and bound the center of this doubled-up cord tightly about the base of my husband’s genitals. Then I ran the ends around the pillar, and tied them tightly together in back.

The back side of this perfectly modified pillar naturally features over a dozen deeply seated hooks, each one six inches above the next. I yanked my first doubled rope up and up until I could slip it over one of these hooks, binding my succulent Slut-boy to the pillar by his waist so tightly that even squirming would be almost beyond him, and so that the ropes pulled his already engorged genitalia upward until they jutted out hard and red and throbbing in front of him. Even if he did manage to squirm, it would cause him intolerable (or maybe intolerably arousing) pain in his entire groin.

Good enough for a start. Next it was time to see to his limbs.

I took one of Slut-boy’s wrists – as always he offered me no resistance – and lashed it up tight. I pulled his arms back around the pillar and lashed the other end of the rope to his other wrist. This time I left a bit of slack in the cord – for good reason of course. I lifted that rope connecting his wrists as high as I could, until both cord and arms were stretched out to their limits. There, a foot above his head I looped that rope over one of the highest hooks, straining his shoulders considerably – although nothing like what was coming next of course. Giggling with a familiar sadistic thrill, I kicked the stool out from under his feet, leaving him hanging by the arms and genitals.

Slut-boy cried out miserably at his sudden suspension, even though he’s had years to get used to this trick. And of course, he’d have another full day to once again appreciate it. Absolutely excellent! Still deliciously thrilled, I bound his legs likewise: pulled back around the pillar, tied together and hooked in place to prevent him from sliding down any more than the ropes’ elasticity would allow.

With just that he was in inescapable bondage and condemned to constantly increasing suffering until I finally saw fit to release him. Three ropes! That’s all it takes a Mistress like me. Still, a few minor touches remained to make my slave’s situation perfect. I pushed a big ball-gag into Slut-boy’s mouth, and buckled it in so tightly that he’d be unable to expel it in the slightest. Of course he hardly even blinked at this.

My husband isn’t allowed to speak without orders in any case. And despite the fact that he hasn’t dared try in years, I keep him gagged as often as possible anyway. I just get off on seeing his painted lips stretched in a wide O, and his rouged cheeks either hollowed out with sucking on my many c***s and balls, or stuffed to bursting with inflatable rubber. In any case, I then picked up a blindfold – one of those heavy leather eyeshades people wear on planes and whatnot for sleeping. This too I buckled tightly in place, ensuring that he’d be helpless to see his surroundings or even gauge the passage of time. Finally I saw to his p***s.

I took a condom, rolled it onto his erection and then taped it tightly to his bare skin (he’s long since lost all pubic hair through tape removal). I snipped the tip off the little come-well at the end, plugged it into a plastic tube and taped it there as well. That tube ran to a bucket on the floor of course, so that if Slut-boy had to urinate in my absence he wouldn’t soil the foyer.

Not that I minded him cleaning it up of course. But who can stand a house stinking of piss, even for an instant? Anyways, good enough! With that my slave was ready to endure all the long hours until my return. Flooded by delight I bit him hard on the n****e, cruelly twisted the other one, and bid him a loving good-bye.

“See you after work, Slut-boy. Or maybe tomorrow morning, I don’t really know yet. I just might want to get laid again tonight. Why don’t you hang around here and think about that?”

Of course, that was this morning. Obviously I decided against cuckolding Slut-boy this night. All day long I was just much more in the mood for penetrating than being penetrated.

I needed something different, that was all, maybe even some true novelty in my life. I mean seriously, I’d been f****d by three different guys and two different girls (in various combinations) in every possible hole and position over the past week alone. And finally seeing Slut-boy hanging there whimpering, gagged, blind, and bound upon my return immediately confirmed my instincts. Excited already, I hailed him as I stepped in and swept the door shut behind me.

“Hello, Slut-boy!”

I cast my briefcase aside and strode up to him. Loving his bleat of pain, I ripped free the tape and yanked the condom off of him with one pitiless pull.

Due to his habitual dehydration the bucket was almost empty. And because of the tight rope he was still mostly erect. I gripped that quickly thickening shaft in one hand and his balls in the other. Squeezing both, I purred up at him.

“I decided I’d rather f**k you tonight than let some other hung guy or hot girl f**k me. Aren’t you just delighted?”

Slut-boy nodded most sincerely, not daring to even garble some affirmative.

“Good!” I declared.

“In that case I will free you now. After you make me my dinner and clean everything up, we are going to f**k like it’s never been invented yet!”

Rope after rope I untied him and let him down. Leaving the gag in place, I then removed the blindfold.

“Now, make yourself pretty! Put on your heels, apron and cap, and get busy!”

Right away Slut-boy obeyed me.

First he tied his long brown hair back with a pretty white ribbon. Then he donned the four-inch pumps I insist he wear at all times. After that he pinned the lacy maid’s cap to his head and hooked long, dangly earrings through his pierced lobes and n*****s. Finally he tied his frilly white serving apron about his waist.

Smirking at the way his raging erection tented out the front of this, I left him mincing toward the kitchen while I unpacked my briefcase, poured myself a glass of wine and settled back to unwind.

As always Slut-boy prepared and served me an outstanding meal. Indeed he was the chef at my favorite restaurant before I chose, seduced, enslaved and married him. Still it’s a good thing he remembered his lowly dishwashing days. After coffee, while he bustled around cleaning up, I retired to the bedroom to change.

I pulled on black fishnet stockings, and shiny black shoes sporting steel stiletto heels. Matching steel spikes decorated the straps, and a similarly decorated collar went about my neck. Leaving my more-than-generous breasts bare – the better to taunt and torment you with, my eternally impotent mate – I buckled a sturdy harness securely about my waist, ass and crotch.

Of course jutting up from the front of all this stiff black leather was the even greater stiffness of my latest favorite dildo. Jet black as well, this was entirely lifelike except for the ridiculous number of upraised veins ribbing it, and its outrageous size.

I know what they say about black guys. But I’ve been f****d by more than my share of them, and none has ever swung meat like this! Fully a foot long and as thick as my wrist, I’m willing to bet no human was ever born with a prick like this. I’ve only lately begun to break Slut-boy into this latest outrage, and upon joining me in the bedroom he whimpered with fearful resignation at the sight of it.

“That’s right, slave,” I allowed, grinning at his dismay.

“We’re going to keep using this one until it stops hurting you so much. Then we’ll move on to something even bigger. Trust me: you’ll be in diapers before you’re forty. Now, take off that cap and apron and get on the bed, face down this time. I’m bored, so we’re going to try something different tonight!”

As always, Slut-boy obeyed me without hesitation. Anything to escape being punished yet again! Once he was waiting docilely for me, I picked up the various restraints I’d chosen and joined him.

First I spread his legs, bent each one back at the knee and belted them up ankles to thighs. With him thus unable to extend his legs in the slightest, I took a stout cotton cord, doubled it as usual and bound the center of it to the base of his sexy ponytail. I used this leash to haul him back upright, until he was balanced on his knees and leaning against me. Then I pulled those double cords back and down until his head tipped so far back he was facing the ceiling. Pulling them between his butt-cheeks, I drew those ropes between his legs to the front, where I separated them and tied them both tightly about the base of his genitals, much as I’d done just that morning.

With that his neck was stretched way back and his erection down, severely stressing both. Finally it was once again time to see to his hands.

I used a pair of wide leather shackles to bind Slut-boy’s wrists together. Lifting his arms high above his head then, I tied these shackles to a slightly elastic cord hanging down from a ceiling fixture. This I tightened until he was stretched out up, with his spread wide knees and clasped together wrists making an upright isosceles triangle of him. Once again: good enough.

Leaving him whimpering with strain and staring at the ceiling, I slipped a pillow between his legs and then followed it with my own. Lying flat on my back, I eased my body underneath him, lifting him up enough until my own butt rested on the pillow and his open crotch rested on mine, pressing my eager hard-on flat down against me. The time had come for orders and explanations.

“You know that I always bludgeon down into you from above, Slut-boy. Nothing can possibly match that. But tonight for novelty’s sake I’m going to take you from below. Who knows? It might be exciting. So pull, Slut-boy! Pull yourself up!”

Straining his arms he immediately complied. Bracing myself, I lifted him again, until his knees left the bed and together we raised him high enough for my c**k to spring upright beneath him. With one freed hand, I forced the head of this past his bulging balls (grinning at his sudden groan) and parted the ropes enough to expose his hole. Gasping with potency, I pushed the tip of my prick into him. Then I stopped supporting his weight and gripped his hips, yanking Slut-boy down onto me. At the same time he read my intention and succumbed. Gravity did the rest.

Slowly, exquisitely he sank down onto my gigantic erection, groaning horribly as he was so outrageously penetrated.

How could any rectum possibly accommodate such an unnatural invasion? What kind of permanent damage was being done? I actually used to wonder about such things. After a few years though, I just took advantage of them. At last Slut-boy’s knees met and then depressed the mattress, and his crotch and mine made contact. With my foot-long thickness buried in him to the hilt, he was as skewered as ever before. Immediately I began thrusting upward, commanding him to reciprocate.

“Bounce on me, Slut-boy! Pull rhythmically with your arms. For once you’re going to have to work at being f****d!”

Naturally he obeyed again. And aided by that slight spring in the rope, he was soon sliding rapidly up and down the enormous organ impaling him. After a few minutes I realized I didn’t even need to thrust up at all. With that pillow lifting my hips up and my strong arms aiding his own, all I had to do was lie there quietly and let him f**k himself.

And f**k himself he indeed f*****g did, bouncing ever more urgently up and down on my monstrous c**k. Despite his choked cries of pain, and his daily insistence that he abhorred his rather exclusive s*x life, he betrayed himself as always by quickly losing control and wallowing in his deflowering.

No one who wasn’t aroused beyond belief could respond with such vigor and abandon to having his rectum viciously violated. Yet rather than call him on this I just relaxed and enjoyed the experience. Watching his bound body bounce as sweat trickled down and his exertions grew ever more extravagant was quite entertaining to say the least. Unfortunately of course his stamina proved nothing next to mine. And without the mad goad of my own insatiable rhythm, and the impossibly dominant thrill of looming over him and pounding violently down into his squealing sissy submissiveness, I found it impossible to achieve orgasm.

So much for the appeal of novelty.

It was interesting and even exciting for a while. But once Slut-boy exhausted himself I was quick to squirm out from under him, release his bonds and see to taking him in a more gratifying and traditional manner. The only sop I threw to novelty was to tie him up in a delightful way I’d never tried before.

I positioned him on his back in the center of the bed, with the same pillow under his ass. Nothing improves the penetration like a bit of elevation. I tied ropes to each ankle and lifted his legs high above him, folding him in half like the ropes, which I then tied to the corners of the bed frame up at the head. Then I tied identical ropes to his wrists, and pulled his arms down and out, until his elbows overlapped his knees. I tied these ropes to the bottom corners, using both the cords and his own limbs to lock him down tightly doubled over, utterly helpless with all his most important parts jutting wonderfully up. Finally I used one last rope to tie off his c**k and balls in an intricately tight rope harness, ensuring no possible issue.

Some Mistresses use cages or belts to ensure the chastity of their slaves, but I’ve never needed to. I merely keep Slut-boy bound or under my eye at all times, and even that isn’t strictly necessary. He is so thoroughly cowed by my regular regimen of discipline that he would never dare ejaculate, or even touch me or himself now that I have forever forbidden it. Despite all his protestations, he long ago learned to take his s****l gratification the only way he can: by being butt-f****d like a sleazy little slut. And so I once again move into place to make his lifetime of slavery worth it for him.

Again I inserted just the head of my superhuman erection into him. Then I dropped forward, catching myself on palms spread wide on either side of his head. Gazing down at his face from barely a foot away I waggled my dangling breasts enticingly back and forth.

He has never touched these, and never will. His tormented gaze feasted miserably on them as they jiggled and joggled and dangled and danced, and then at last we made eye contact.

Those eyes were red-rimmed, teary, and desperately pleading. But I know my Slut-boy. He wasn’t pleading for patent impossibilities, for mercy, or even for gentleness in what was coming. He was pleading for consummation, pure and simple, the only kind he’ll even know. Teasingly I nudged repeatedly into him, watching avidly as his mad need grew and grew and grew. Then lovingly, possessively, brutally I pounded my hard c**k forward and down, stabbing its entire thick shaft up his hungry ass.

His begging eyes bulged wide, his ball-gag stifled a nevertheless articulate cry, and his pent breath exploded through his nose. Then he began panting explosively, drooling uncontrollably and staring wildly up at me as I commenced plunging violently in and out of him.

Thus it proceeded as it always did: our impossibly perverse and sublime s*x lives. I humped and pumped, grunted and growled, sneered and snarled and stabbed his ass with my superior s*x organ for an incredible eternity. Meanwhile Slut-boy simpered and sobbed, whimpered and quivered and quavered and cried and squealed his eternal submission to me like an utterly dependent baby. I was his entire universe, all the meaning his life would ever need. My c**k was his god, raging and rampaging and punching him ever closer to some impossibly perverted paradise.

For ninety minutes or more my relentless thrusting provided him with all he needed to endure his otherwise hellish existence, while simultaneously supplying me with enough multiple orgasms to make my ownership of him wonderfully worthwhile. Finally our unique symbiosis was exhausted however, for one night at least. Feeling a weary contempt for him then, I pulled out of Slut-boy and untied him.

Still leaving him gagged, I allowed him to shower and use the bathroom. When he finished he emerged and lay complacently on the floor next to my bed. There I tightly hogtied him as always, before casting a blanket over his body and dousing the lights. Each of us content in our radically different ways, we then met the end of just another day – one of twenty or so thousand of these together.