By ty dehner

In a flash, I was face down in the heavy, creamy mud! I could still breathe thanks to the gaps in the helmet that protected my head, but I could feel the wetness of the mud soaking my lightweight jersey. As I recovered from the shock of being dumped, I started to struggle to right myself to get my face out of the mud. But the more I struggled, the more I seem to sink into it. I totally forgot about my Master and his truck, so I paused for a moment and I didn’t hear anything. Did he drive off and just leave me to worm my way in the muck?

I could feel the mud making its way into my helmet, and if I didn’t roll over I would end up suffocating in this stuff. There was nothing firm to grab onto with my bound hands, so it was really difficult to move. My heavy boots worked as they could but were bound together with the tape. I know the mud is caking on my new gear, and I could feel it soaking now into my pants and gloves. The goggles were covered with mud, so I couldn’t see anything. I tried reaching down with my hands deep into the mud but didn’t find a bottom. This really freaked me out, for I could end up sinking into this never to be seen again.

I tried with all my might and got myself shifted on my side. Raising my hands, I wiped some of the mud from the goggles so I could see. It wasn’t a clear view, but I could see the building under construction just beyond me. As I rolled over my legs went deeper into the mud, allowing me to bend at my waist a bit, but when I tried pulling my legs up they were stuck. I would not be getting out on my own. I turned, looking for Master, and found him not far. He was standing on the tailgate of the truck that was only a few feet from me. He yelled my name, and I looked up at him in his USMC desert ACUs and he had his cock out. The first splash of his piss struck the top of my helmet and ran down, mixing with the mud.

“Face up, slave, let my piss clear your goggles.”

I did, and the force of his piss did get most of the mud off. I could see clearer than before.

As the Master’s piss came to an end, I realized I had worked myself fully upright and in the mud to my waist. The back of my gear was still clean.

“Fuck filthy slave, you need to lay back in that mud! I want you head-to-toe covered so I can only see the mud worm you are.”

I bent over and tried getting the mud on my back.

“You fucking fool! Use your god-given hands, scoop the mud and dump it down you back, and when you’re done you will dump the mud down the insides of your shirt!”

I worked as fast as I could to follow the commands of my Master. Handful after handful, I dumped mud down my back. I would be sure to rub it in and make sure it got under the back of the chest protector as well as on top of it. It was hard, for the plastic of the chest protector really did hold the mud well. But my jersey was certainly becoming encased in mud. I started putting heaps of mud down my jersey and could feel the slick soupy dirt on my skin. It wasn’t cold, as it was a summer night.

I was pretty helpless here in this mud pit and Master took advantage of it. The first strike of the paintball pellet hit me in the shoulder and stung like hell!

“Speed it up, worm!”

There was another shot that struck my side just above the mud line. Then another hit my helmet. Fuck, I was my Master’s target!

“This is bringing back memories of my Marine days, worm. Hours on the shooting range. But now I’m shooting at a mud worm!”

He fired a few more shots, hitting me in various places. I was going to bruise up big time with those hits. It was rough, me scooping and covering myself with mud and him shooting at me.

Just then he ordered me to stop. I lowered my arms and rested as he sat on the edge of the tailgate and put down the paintball gun.

“Hands up.”

I lifted my hands as he reached to his belt and removed his knife. He grabbed my hands and cut the tape around my wrists, releasing me for the first time in hours. I could also feel the mud really soaking into the pants. Master ordered me to remove my helmet, which I did after he unlocked the chin strap. He reached over and unlocked the gag and allowed me to remove it. But he instructed me not to say a word when I did. I handed him the gag and smiled at him to show that I appreciated all that he was providing me.

“Now fill that fucking helmet to the edge.”

I look at him, my smiling gently fading. He in turns picks up the paintball gun and aims right at my chest. I nod and start scooping the mud into the helmet. Once it is at the edge, I look up at him and he gently nods yes. He doesn’t have to say a word, as I know what to do and I pick up the helmet and move it over my head. Quickly the mud starts to pour out, covering my shaved head. I work my head into the helmet and start to find it hard to breathe, as the pressure of me head pushes the mud out and into the padding of the helmet. I open my mouth to gasp, but it ends up with a large mush of mud and I taste the dirt and water that is the mud.

It is a chore, but I get the helmet on with the goggles pushing the mud into my closed eyes.

“You can clear a space for you to breathe, but that is all worm!”

I reach up into the face of the helmet and adjust the mud with my mud-encased gloved hand but get enough out so I can breathe. I strap up the chinstrap, as I know it is the right thing to do.

I feel something hit the front of the helmet, and then Master speaks.

“I just tossed out a rope to you. Find it and grab it and then hold your hands up to me.”

I can’t see because of the mud in the goggles and helmet, so I feel around and finally feel the rope. Grabbing it, I lift my hands to Master. He grabs them and I feel him working leather wrist restraints and locking them on. Then he takes the rope and brings them together by tying the rope through the rings.

“Here is your goal, worm, you are to work your way into the mud until you are completely gone. I have this rope here to pull you out when I’m ready. Yes, you fucking worm, you are going to disappear into the mud! Now get to work.”

He emphasizes his plan with another hit from the paintball gun. So I start squirming, and I feel myself lower into the mud. This pit doesn’t seem to have a base to it. Master releases the tension on the rope, and my hands go down into the mud. In time I’m up to my armpits and the movement down is increasing in speed as the mud takes control of me. I feel it run up my shoulder and touch my neck. Then something pressed on the top of my helmet, and I go under. No doubt the only thing Master sees now is just a rope coming from the mud.

I am surprised I have air to breathe, as I must have created a good pocket but I know it can’t last. I have no idea now how much farther I have gone down, but without the rope no one would know I am here. Master must be harder than hell pushing me this deep and helpless in a mud pit. He has never been this intense in his ownership of me. It is dark, silent and heavy as the mud presses everywhere on me. I think how deep my heavy MX boots are into the pit.

I was lost in my thought as I could feel it harder to breathe. My cock was straining in the metal cage that it is locked in. I was thinking about all this bondage but there is no rope it is materials from the Earth.

Just then there was a tug, and my arms started to slowly raise. Thankfully, Master was pulling me out as the air was getting less and less. My lungs were trying hard to get the air it needed. Over my head went my hands, and I could feel I was at least a foot under as my hands hadn’t breeched the surface of the mud.

Then there was a sharp tug, and I came out of the pit really fast! I was pulled out quickly and then dragged across a rough surface. Master had secured the rope to the trailer hitch of the truck, and I was now being dragged across the work site. The rocks and dirt were rough on my body and gear. I was sightless, with mud filling my mouth and the rope tugging my bound wrists.

Things came to a halt. I was catching my breath. Master grabbed me and helped me to stand. He walked me a short distance and lowered me into a hard surface container. I could feel the walls on the edge of my arms. He brought heavy straps across my body from my ankles to my neck. There were 10 of them. I was lying flat as he worked a small hose through the mud, under the helmet and into my lips. It went in past my lips about an inch. I sucked on it and had the first taste of fresh clean water for the first time in hours.

“Mud worm. I have fucking enjoyed tonight, but it is time for you to rest. But your conversion to a fucking piece of maggot isn’t over. Since you can’t see yourself, let me paint you a picture. You are about to be locked into a piss pit here at the work site. We have 10 of them that pipe all the piss into this container. Next week, it will be drained as it is every week. At night I will come and give you some fresh nutrition. But you are going to be here for the week. That’s all I’m going to tell you about where you are.”

I couldn’t believe this and started to struggle and beg to be released.

“After I lock this, you better remain silent, worm. If you expose yourself, you will not like the consequences. But I will give you something to think about. You are going through all this because of that motocross gear you are wearing. Have a great week, you fucking piss pig.”

With that, the lid slammed shut, and I could hear some locks. I couldn’t really hear much else because of the mud around my head stuffed into the helmet.

I was alone and strapped in. But what did you mean about this MX gear? I had a week to figure it out.

 

***

 

I was awakened by the sound of the bolts holding the top of the container opening. I must have slept through the locks being unlocked. A few moments later I could hear the lid being removed and a rush of fresh air coming over my mud-crusted body.

“Oh fuck, you stink like piss, worm!”

That was Master’s voice, and I was very glad to hear it. I really never smelled the stench of the piss that had been filling the container, but I had felt it wet me down during my time locked in this container. I felt the container being lifted at my head, and soon I was standing but still strapped and secured where I had been for a very long time. Though I didn’t think it had been a week like Master originally stated. Unless I just passed out and slept through it all.

I had heard the voices of the workers on the job site as they used the urinals over me during the day. It got hot and steamy in this plastic container. All I could ever smell was the mud that was trapped in my helmet and covering my face. The water hose allowed me to clean my mouth of the dirt and grit. I was glad that the helmet protected my face from a direct stream of the piss.

My thoughts were shattered by a blast of cold water from a powerful nozzle. Master was using it to wash all the piss and mud off me. It was soaking me to the skin, and at times it really stung hitting my flesh. The water seeped in to my boots as I could feel the heavy clumps of mud dropping off around my feet. After a while the soaking stopped and I must have been cleaned.

“You’re cleaning up well, worm. But I need to get at your backside. I’m going to release you. Keep your fucking hands down, and don’t remove the helmet.”

Master worked on the straps that had held me captive in the piss pit, and for the first time in hours, perhaps days, I was free. I did as Master said, and after the last strap was released he turned me around. I froze in place as the next blast of cold water struck my ass and almost tunneled its way up my asshole.

The hose went up and down my body several times, making sure I was free of the mud and soaked to the skin. The water stopped for moment, and I felt the lock on my chin strap being released and soon the helmet was lifted. Chunks of mud felt off my face and head. Master’s hand gently pressed on my shoulder, and I kneeled in place. That is when he dumped a huge container of water on me, startling me and leaving me a bit breathless.

Once again I could see my Master. He wasn’t in the Marine ACUs but work clothes from the work site. He lifted another container of water and over me it went.

“Pick up your helmet and climb into the bed of the truck.”

I started to get up, but I remembered my ankles had been restrained. So I found a way to stand and hop over to the bed. I climbed in and looked at my Master.

He came and slammed the tailgate shut. The engine started after Master got into the cab, and soon we were driving off the work site. Once again I was tossed around, as I really had nothing to hold on to and things were slick since I was soaking wet.

 

***

 

When we arrived home, I was taken from the bed of the truck and Master ordered me to the dungeon. There he had me remove the MX gear that was now dirty and stained. Once I was naked except for the cock cage, he ordered me to shower, shave and return and kneel in the dungeon.

The hot water felt so nice, and when the shower was over I felt so different than what I did a few hours — ago a mud-encased, piss-covered worm. Through all that, my cock was hard and at times very painful as it pressed against its prison.

When I returned to the dungeon, Master wasn’t there. But I kneeled and bowed my head awaiting his return. When he did, the first thing I saw was his spit-polished dress shoes. His white cloth gloved hand touched my chin, and as he lifted it I saw that Master was in his full dress blues. This was a serious moment, as Master seldom wears his dress blues.

He lowered his head to mine and our lips locked. This was so full of passion; I was taken aback after the treatment I had received. He finished and put his hands behind his back. As he talked, he paced back and forth in front of me.

“Slave, what you experienced was a lesson. A lesson that you will never forget. A lesson that taught you that only one of us is in control, and it isn’t you.

“Over time you pestered me to get that MX gear. I know you really like MX gear. I couldn’t take it any longer and felt you need to learn a lesson.”

He went to the closet and opened it to reveal my MX gear hanging on a hanger. Everything was dull, stained and filthy. There was no way they would ever be awesome looking again.

“In the future if I want you to have MX gear, I will get you MX gear. In the future you will never ever ask for anything unless I specifically ask you. After so much time I decided to allow you that gear and then show you the power I have to destroy it for you. Most likely you will never wear it again. If you do, it will be because I am pissed at you and feel you need a reminder lesson. Do you understand slave?”

I nod my head yes. I had pestered Master to get the gear, and I understand that wasn’t my place. Anything he provides me I should be proud and grateful for, as that means it is something he enjoys me being in.

Master reached over and brought before me the heavy iron collar. He tells me to stand. The collar is followed by the heavy iron shackles for my wrists and ankles. They are locked on. Master kisses me again.

“You will remain naked and shackled for the rest of the week.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Now get the fuck out of here and get me my dinner.”

With that, his gloved hand slaps my ass and I swiftly head out of the dungeon. Master walks to the closet with the MX gear in it. He looks at it, smiles, and thinks, “He did look fucking hot in it stuck in the mud.”

The closet door is shut.

 

The end

 

Metal would like to thank the author, ty dehner, for this story.