Master and Slave – Part 2

By slavebladeboi

Next, I relaxed a bit. I couldn’t move apart from wriggling my fingers and blinking but I managed to relax, somehow. I was tied face down on the black leather covered bench. Upper arms, wrists, thighs and ankles were strapped tightly to the four legs whilst my lower back and neck were strapped to either end of the flat surface.

My master was standing behind me beginning to relax as well. His still erect cock deep inside me was very slowly starting to reduce in size. Seconds before he had let out a loud roar as he pumped his hot spunk so far into me I thought I’d almost be able to taste it. But now he gently ran his fingers along the welts he had made across me before strapping me down and thrusting into me with such a passion it was all those thick leather straps could do to keep me in position.

My back, arse and upper thighs were lined with deep red marks and spotted with blood where first the cavalry whip then the dragon cane had ploughed into my flesh. As I looked down I saw the wet patch on the stone flagstones where my screams had forced my spit round the ball gag, which was so tightly buckled to my face that it was cutting into the corners of my mouth. It joined the tears that had flowed down my cheeks and they pooled together, slowly drying proof of my total submission.

I felt him withdraw, slowly and carefully. I breathed deeply. The end of another session and some relief until the next time he decided that he needed to wield the cane again. He walked round the bench and rubbed the back of my head before unbuckling my arms, one strap at a time. When I was free I started to reach forward to get the blood flowing again but he grabbed both my wrists and forced them behind me ordering me to keep them there. Almost immediately he slid the leather sleeve cuff over them, a strap holding them tight at my wrists and the leather lacing forcing my arms together more and more as he laced them higher and higher, nearer my elbows. As my neck was still held in position I had no way of arching my back and relieving the pressure on my shoulder blades even a little.

My breathing became forced and I moaned with the pain in my shoulders which were being forced up and together.

He sometimes took me into his bed after a beating and fucking but other times I was tied so as to be ready for him to play with when he had rested, there being no danger of me playing with myself. Perhaps this was to be one of those times.

It was when he had finished lacing my arms that I realised this was not to be one of those times. He grabbed my balls from behind and pulled them between my legs adding my cock to the bundle with his other hand. Once he had them both in one palm he reached over and reached for the kneeler, carefully locking the centre cuff round them. It was at this point he started to unbuckle the other restraints I was pinioned with. When I was no longer held against the bench I was told to stand. This was not easy. I was rather uncertain of my balance and the kneeler behind my thighs was going to tug at my balls if I made any swift movements. Once free of the bench I had to kneel whilst Sir cuffed each end of the spreader bar to my ankles. I was now in no better a position than I had been a few minutes earlier, in fact it was marginally worse as although I could now move more any movement I made was both painful and potentially disastrous for my beloved cock and balls. I had not got long to wait kneeling there as he immediately ushered me across the room towards a small wooden door built into one of the cellar walls.

“Oh God, not that cell,” was my only thought at this point. It was a brick lined cube, a bit less than three feet square, with small rings set into all the sides and floor. I hated it more than anything. I’d boil there in summer and freeze in winter.  In my present position it would kill my knees as I knelt there only able to make small shifts in position for any ease of back or legs. I moaned a bit through the ball gag which I still wore and got a sharp cut on my already marked arse. He pushed me forward until I was more or less totally inside the brick cell, reached forward and clipped weights onto my nipples, looping the thin chain they were linked to under the ring on the floor. I was in pain from the start. It wasn’t over warm but I was already showing small trickles of sweat down my back and over my face as I strained against the bondage restricting my arms and back. My leg muscles were screaming at me but I dare not move them, bricks and balls made my brain keep them still. My tits were now red hot, my neck was cramped. I felt like pleading and swearing at him both at the same time. “Please let me out. I’ve been beaten in both senses. I’ve given you all I have, I want to die.” The saliva drooled from my mouth.

The door of the cell slammed shut…


The orgasm was wonderful. I had lubricated his hole with my fingers, working the gel into every part of his tight little fleshy tube before forcing my swollen cock inside him. It felt good to be inside him, buried deep to the hilt. I waited a minute because the sensation of the entry had moved me close to the brink, then I began a slow, rhythmic reaming of him that brought little squeals from behind the tightly strapped ball gag that I had quite deliberately adjusted so that the hard black rubber ball was forced deep inside his mouth. I loved the vulnerability of him tied this way, the heavy black leather straps securing him to the punishment bench that had now become the fucking bench.

The bloody wheals on his back, across his arse and horizontally across his thighs showed the tracks of both the vicious cavalry whip and the dragon cane, both of which had been used liberally before I released him from the floor bondage in the run up to the fucking of him. Every stroke I gave him seemed to make my rampant cock harder until it threatened to burst from my skin tight black leather breeches.

I sank deeply into him again fully to the hilt of my smooth, heavily veined cock. I imagined the head as it penetrated him, the hole at the tip dilated and ready to spill it’s load of spunk, which I could tell from the sensations now coursing through my body would be very, very soon.

I heard the roar almost before I realised that it was me who was the source of it. Then the most wonderful feeling as the first spurt delivered my juices deep inside his body, a curious mixture of pleasure, love and a desire to hurt him merged together in a weird cocktail of swirling heady emotions.

I waited for the orgasm to subside and then zipped  my temporarily flaccid cock back inside my breeches and considered  what to do next. I knew what he would want. To be taken to my bed would be his choice, preferably after a hot soapy bath and a massage, but I wanted to continue this delicious mind game, to push him to and maybe beyond his limits of endurance.

I made to comfort him, rubbing his head as I liked to do prior to a gentle, relaxing lovemaking session, knowing that it would lull him into a false sense of the next direction in which he would be taken.

I began to unstrap him from the bench but when he was more or less certain that things would move in the direction he desired I grabbed his arms, forcing them behind his back and secured them inside a leather single arm glove. I loved this cruel little device, the way the lacings -so easy to tighten – translated with leveraged power into something that forced and pinioned his arms behind him in such a relentless manner. I began to stiffen again as I laced the glove up tight wrapping the restricting black leather tube to above his elbows and the securing the shoulder straps. He looked so good with the firm shoulder muscles distended by the pull of the glove and I felt the urge to fuck him once more, but resisted. I took the kneeler from the bench, feeling the chill of the cold steel on my fingers.

Grabbing his genitals roughly I locked them into the steel holder before removing the key. He was now totally helpless once more. I picked up the leather leash from the table and clipped it to the D ring set in his leather slave collar and used it to pull him towards the timber door that covered the entrance to the punishment cell. Sensing a resistance I picked up the cavalry whip and one cut was sufficient to ensure his instant compliance.

Effectively a bare brick cube, I had designed the cell to the smallest measurements possible to house the slave, just ninety centimetres in each direction it had been equipped with various steel securing rings which he had fitted on my instructions when I had forced him to build it.  Like a man digging his own grave he had lovingly drilled into the brickwork and set the steel rawl bolts exactly where I had ordered them to be put with the intention of using their carefully calculated positions to torture him to the limit and beyond. I watched him crawl inside trying desperately not to make the steel kneeler pull too tightly on his balls. I knew what he would be thinking and, had he not been so effectively gagged, he would probably have pleaded with me for mercy.

I was tempted to remove the gag just to hear it, knowing how the humiliation of it would break him as, despite the fact that he would be one hundred per cent certain that his pleadings would not succeed, he would still put himself through it. Such was the effectiveness of my cell as a torture instrument. As a final parting gift to the slave I took a pair of weighted nipple clamps and pinched his flesh into peaks as I attached them before casually adding a couple of fairly substantial weights that he would be unable to prevent from dangling before him and adding just a little more to his agony. I shut the door and slid the bolt into position with a satisfying clunk. I had not decided upon the length of his confinement but I knew my cock would remain firm for virtually all the time as I thought about what the use of my power was doing to him as he waited in the darkness far below. My high laced boots reverberated on the stone steps as I left the dungeon. I knew the sound would be bitter music in his ears.

I found it satisfying in a decadent sort of way to sit and relax with a good white wine in my hand, all the time knowing that he was locked painfully into the punishment cell as I sipped the chilled sauvignon blanc and reflected on the sheer physical pleasure that I gained from my ownership of him. Of course the fucking was great. Whether I used his tight little arse or his talented mouth the result was always the same, a mind blowing orgasm of such quality that it quickly had me wanting more. And I loved the freedom that the deal I had cut with him gave me. It was a pretty straightforward one really, I did what I wanted to him and he took it. The tacit agreement was that I wouldn’t maim or permanently harm him, but apart from that it was pretty much carte blanche. He had absolutely no right to object to whatever level of pain I saw fit to subject him to, that was very much my department. It had been difficult at first to come to terms with this freedom and I did feel pangs of guilt initially, but we had become close in every way and I came to understand that he wanted it that way. He saw his position as a slave as one in which it was his duty to suffer for his Master’s pleasure. Once I had got my head completely around this it became easy to up the punishments. Whether I used one of the singletail whips, the Dragon cane or the electro torture kit the result was inevitably the same, a big sensuous long lasting hard on followed by a mind blowing orgasm with him swallowing all of my hot spunk like the little puppy dog he was, then coming back for more.

For my part of the deal I knew that I fitted the bill exactly for him. At six foot two and dressed in figure hugging black leather and high laced knee boots, how could I fail to? I pretty much represented his fetish fantasy Master and that made me feel so good inside.

I glanced down and saw a minor scuff on the toe of my right boot just beneath the lace panel. I had most likely grazed the highly polished leather on the stairs. But nevertheless I made a mental note to beat him for it later. It wasn’t his fault of course, it was just a scuff, but again it was part of the fantasy at the centre of our life together, it was the deal that we had made and we both knew that I didn’t need an excuse to hurt him, what it did to my cock was quite sufficient a reason in itself.

I drained the last of the wine and glanced at my watch. It was just over an hour since I had left the dungeon and I had enough empathy to understand just how his muscles would be torturing him. The confinement within the tiny cube by itself would be quite enough but the fact that additionally he was wearing the single arm leather glove that I had hooked up to the roof bolt high behind him in the cage and that the kneeler held him by the genitals with his thighs splayed moved his situation well into the area of torture.

In a way it was worse than that for him though. Often the object of torture is to break the subject to obtain information or compliance. I needed neither from him and the torture was purely for my enjoyment.

When I unlatched the cell door I almost felt sorry for him. Tears streaked his face as the torment of the position had worn him down I guessed that all he could do was try to come to terms with the pain and sob. He now seemed broken even beyond that position and I felt my cock twitch as I looked upon his utter surrender.



2 thoughts on “Master and Slave – Part 2”

  1. I am slavebladeboi’s Master, just found this site and maybe I will contribute something too.

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