By Bikermike

I knew that I’d deserved it. Sentenced to eight hours on the horizontal cross. I started to psyche myself up for the torture that was to follow. I also thought back to my misdemeanour that had brought me to this.

Master had brought six of his mates round from the leather bar. As his sub I was instructed to kneel naked before them and fellate each in turn. I was made to kneel on sharp sticks with a concrete weight placed behind my knees so that the joint spread out. (‘Knee spreader,’ my master called it). As always, my wrists were secured behind my back with cable ties. I was never permitted to orgasm during these ordeals. Master would wank me brutally if I had pleased his guests. If I hadn’t, I would get a beating or worse.

The mates stripped completely and waited in turn. Master first: he slapped my face then without preamble thrust his cock deep inside my mouth. ‘Suck, slave!’ was his only command. I did as I had been ordered, then he (as usual) placed his large hands behind my head, allowing no retreat. I had got so used to this that I now never gagged. In and out, in and out he forced his huge cock. I always knew when he was about to shoot because his cock, although always rigid in my mouth, suddenly became rock hard; it was like sucking a rod of steel. As he orgasmed he gave a vicious lunge, his cockhead contacting the back of my throat. With a roar, he filled my mouth with his cum, which I swallowed immediately.

It was mate one’s turn. He was a bit more gentle and orgasmed after about a minute.

Mate two asked master if the slave’s impaled knee joints were causing him discomfort. ‘Probably not enough,’ Master replied. With that he placed another concrete block on top of the one already balanced on the back of my knees. I could feel the kneecap moving across the sharp stick as he rocked the concrete back and forth. It was agonising but I had been ordered not to cry out. Mate two then fucked my throat, spitting on my shaved scalp as he did so, rubbing his spittle over my head and face. He too shot with a roar and withdrew, slapping me across the face with his still erect penis.

Mate three got into position but with a nod to Master. He then fetched battery charger crocodile clips and attached one to each of my nipples. I gasped in pain. In and out he thrusted. This went on for ten or so minutes until he too orgasmed down my throat.

Number four was quick and not brutal. It took about thirty seconds before I swallowed his jizz.

Mate five was the real bastard. First he slapped my face repeatedly saying, ‘You fucking piece of worthless shit! All you’re fit for is to service us men. Take my cock down your throat, cunt!’ He spat in my face and rubbed his cockhead in the spittle running down my cheeks. He was huge; I would estimate about twelve inches long and about two inches in diameter. Before he entered me he reached down and pulled and twisted the clips already attached to my agonised nipples. I moaned in pleasure-pain. He was in! He fucked slowly and deliberately, giving me constant verbal abuse throughout. At last! ‘Aaaagh!’ he yelled as he shot his hot load down my throat.

By then the pain in my knees and nipples was becoming almost unbearable. I said ‘Please Master, no more, please!’

Master said ‘you know the rules, slave. No stopwords permitted. This will earn you four hours on the cross!’

My cock, although already hard, reacted to this in the way I dreaded. The very thought of more torture caused me to orgasm, shooting my load over the abdomen of mate six, who was just getting into position in front of my face.

‘Fuck me!’ exclaimed Master. ‘Little cunt! Eight hours on the cross now, after a flogging! Lick your jizz off his body!’ Mate six was fairly gentle. He took ten minutes to fill my mouth with his semen.

‘You going to help me punish this cunt?’ Master asked his mates. ‘Belts, whips, tawses or whatever you like are over there in the cupboard.’ He jerked his head in the cupboard’s direction.

Master then removed the tit clamps and very roughly worked my excruciatingly sore nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. I yelled out in agony. He then removed the concrete weights from behind my knees and helped me up off the sticks. I was barely able to stand. With pliers he snipped the cable ties securing my wrists so my arms hung free.

‘Get up there onto the vaulting horse!’ he barked. I lied face down and arse up over the horse and Master and one of his mates then secured my wrists and ankles to the legs of the horse with more cable ties.

Master had hold of his favourite instrument of punishment, the tawse. Slap! He delivered a hard blow across my buttocks. In all I received ten strokes.

Mate two had a whip. He gave me six strokes across my shoulders.

I endured six cuts with a crop across my arse from number three, while number four, now hard again, fucked my mouth for the second time.

Five couldn’t be bothered, contenting himself with a wank while he watched Mate Six lay into my back with the cat o’ nine tails.

Master then released me from the horse and led me over to the cross, now lying on the floor. I knew what to do; spreading my arms to the ends of the horizontal and my feet down the vertical member. Master then secured my wrists to the wooden cross with more cable ties and likewise fastened my ankles.

A pulley rope was attached to the top of the cross and Master and one of the mates then hoisted me into the vertical position. I hung there with most of my body weight being supported by my outstretched arms. Since there was no provision for my feet I could only grip the sides of the upright member as best I could with my soles, thus alleviating some of the pressure from my wrists.

The first hour passed with me moaning and dancing up and down on the cross, trying to ease the pain in my arms and wrists. Master had placed a clock and a mirror in front of me so I could count off the hours and watch myself writhing in agony.

Second hour passed. I had by this time developed a hard-on. I think it was mate three who then gently wanked me almost to orgasm. Just as beads of precum dripped from my cock he stopped his ministrations, wiped his thumb over my cockhead and made me lick it clean.

Third hour passed. Master and his mates cracked open beers. In my mind I had transported myself somewhere else; out of my agonised body.

Fourth hour. Master and mates now getting pissed up. Jeering and laughing at me writhing and squirming.

Fifth hour. Master and mates now wanking themselves and each other, shooting their cum over my body then rubbing it into my skin.

Sixth hour. Must have passed out.

Seventh hour. Master, now completely drunk staggered over to the cupboard and fetched the crocodile clips. ‘Oh, no, please, Sir!’ I begged.

‘Fuck off, slave; take it like a man!’ he replied as he attached the clips to my still sore nipples. Turning to his mates he said ‘I think our slaveboi has now learned his lesson. Shall I give him a wank?’

It was generally agreed that he should. He walked over to the cross and started to work my cock up to full erection, stopping every now and then. Faster, faster his hand went, up and down my shaft, then slower and more gently. Faster, then slower. I was becoming frantic. Faster then slower. Twisting my tit clamps with his other hand. Faster, harder, faster still, my cock now getting sore. Still faster and harder……

AAAAAAGH! Relief! Now knackered.

Master then lowered the cross and released my limbs with pliers and removed the tit clamps. I glanced at the clock. Sure enough, exactly eight hours had passed, culminating in one of the best orgasms I had ever experienced.

Turning to his mates, master said, ‘Next week then?’

In my daze I think that the general reply was affirmative.

The End

 

Metal would like to thank the author, Bikermike, for this story!