By Raybound
Jed and myself were relaxing in the sitting room. It was the day after the judicial whipping, and I was still very sore. Jed had treated me very well in the aftermath of my beating with the sjambok. He had dressed my wounds after having treated them with an antiseptic ointment. Nevertheless I had spent a somewhat restless night, sleeping on my stomach to avoid any unnecessary pressure on my buttocks that still throbbed from the beating.
“The film is just great,” Jed told me, saying that he had watched my beating several times and shared it with a few friends who were all very complimentary about the content.
“I thought that you might pass out towards the end. You were squealing like a stuck pig. I will advertise it on a few sites for fifty bucks a throw. Should go down a storm. Lots of guys like to watch rough stuff.”
I confessed that the pain generated by the sjambok was of a different magnitude from anything that I had experienced before.
“It didn’t help that the guy was so powerful. And he put all he had into every one of those strokes.”
Jed smiled. “Yes, he certainly enjoyed himself. Incidentally he insisted on paying an extra two grand into your account as a tip. He said he had never enjoyed himself as much in a session before. Said the blow job was fantastic. He asked about another session next time he is in the country.”
I considered this. Having resolved not to go down the sjambok route again the draw of twelve grand nestling in my bank account made me give it a second thought. I had never had more than a thousand, and that even when my monthly paycheck came in. It was then that Jed casually mentioned Berlin.
“I have this friend, Claus. He is in Berlin. The scene there is fantastic. You will love it. I think that we should go over at the end of October. There’s a play party at his house. It will also be a great opportunity for me to show you off.”
34 Hendrichplatz was situated in the suburb of Lichtenberg to the east of the city centre. Set in a pleasant street bounded by a park full of deciduous trees currently carpeting the ground in shades of yellow, brown, and red. Most of the houses here were grand, turn of the century buildings that were heavily damaged by air raids early in 1945. During the Soviet era they had remained largely derelict. Only in the mid-nineties after the fall of the Berlin Wall had the damaged buildings become the target for a new kind of invader. Young professionals moved in, and the process of renovation and gentrification began. Claus Albrecht, an up-and-coming young city lawyer, bought number 34 in 2013.
By 2013, whilst standing in the ruins of the house, Claus Albrecht descended into the cellar where the piles of shattered masonry still littered the floor, casting his eyes around in the semi darkness. Rain ran in streams from the shattered roof, spewing from a broken gutter into the street below. Albrecht’s powerful flashlight illuminated the rusting iron barred doors that hung drunkenly from their hinges where the holding cells still stood. Inside one of them a set of iron manacles was still attached to the wall by a chain that had last held a prisoner three quarters of a century before, bearing witness to the dramatic events that had taken place here. Albrecht felt his cock shaft stiffen as he imagined himself about to interrogate the naked man who, unable to escape his fate, quaked in fear at the sight of his booted and uniformed inquisitor who drew the braided whip through gloved hands as he prepared to inflict unimaginable pain on his helpless chained victim.
Albrecht felt a considerable conflict of emotions. Much of his work as a defence lawyer involved the protection of those threatened by the authorities. But that didn’t alter the fact that, once he had dipped his toe in the water, he had become helplessly hooked on BDSM, something that was destined to become an integral part of his lifestyle, and to see him both feared and desired in equal measure by those who shared his passion, albeit from opposite ends of the spectrum.
Joining BLUF had been an eye opener for Claus. Once he had slipped his finely muscled thighs into the skin-tight black leather breeches and laced knee-high boots, which, combined with the heavy leather belt and matching tight-fitting tee shirt, created an image that most submissive men found irresistible, he felt that unique surge of power. He had stood before the full-length mirror and admired the image before him. Gym time had given him a physique to be proud of, and his newly shaved head projected the look of cool cruelty that drove so many to worship at his booted feet. Seeing his body displayed with the benefit of all its leather accoutrements had given him a pleasant sensation. His thickening cock pressed against the gleaming black leather of the jodhpur style breeches that fitted him like a second skin. The thighs, where the leather flared to create that iconic look that he had drooled over in magazines for years, was so redolent of powerful men with their capacity for cruelty, something that submissives were unable to resist.
Claus couldn’t wait to wear his new outfit to a club, to see guys worship with unrestrained enthusiasm, desperate for the thick, heavily veined cock that lurked beneath the leather. That ardour would drive them on to throw themselves upon the mercy of this leather clad Adonis, only to find out, too late, that this was something in very short supply. Claus loved to hear them beg as they looked into his inscrutable face, gradually realising that their pleadings would buy them no mercy whatsoever.
Once contracts were exchanged in late 2013, builders moved in and began the refurbishment. It took almost two years, but, at the end of a long and painstaking job, 34 Hendrichplatz was complete. A specialist team contacted through the BLUF network attended to the cellar which was returned to its wartime function as a fully equipped torture chamber. It was then that the October parties began. Within a decade they were famous within the community with members of the group meeting there for a week of sexy fun, with very few holds barred.
Jed outlined the situation to me. “I have booked us tickets for next week. We leave on Tuesday morning.”
Of course, having signed a full slave contract, this didn’t come as a request. It was a statement. It was with a mixture of excitement and fear that I took my place on the flight to Berlin. I trusted Jed completely, I felt safe with him. That didn’t mean, however, that I didn’t have a slight frisson of fear. I guessed that over the next seven days I was going to be put through my paces and my endurance tested to the limit, and so it would prove to be.
Four sets of very interested eyes watched the scene carefully as I nuzzled the bulge in Claus’ black leather breeches. He was a tall guy with a great physique, quite heavily muscled with a shaven head and some discrete tattoos on his arms that were exposed by the short-sleeved leather tee shirt that clung to his chest. He sighed a couple of times at the caress of my lips on his manhood as it pushed against the tight, confining leather. I could feel the intensity of this guy’s desire as my mouth left a small wet patch where my kiss had been. I could tell from the extent and hardness of the swelling that this was certainly some guy.
A leather gloved hand grabbed me by the hair. Claus ignored my shrieks of pain as he dragged me down the flight of bare concrete steps that led to…I knew not where. I quickly found out. Using his boot he pushed open the heavy timber door that looked as if it belonged in a medieval castle. We entered a large underground room. A cellar, but no ordinary cellar.
Apart from the grey stone floor the entire place was painted black. Immediately my eyes fell upon the man who I would subsequently come to know as Zlatan. His thick-set, heavily muscled body was suspended by four sturdy steel chains. He was spreadeagled against against the left-hand wall. Solid steel fetters and manacles were attached to his wrists and ankles and were anchored to rings set into the floor and ceiling in such positions that his body was held in midair, suspended with his feet perhaps half a metre above the floor.
His whole body appeared to be quite tanned and glistened in the light cast by downlighters set in metal sconces that lined the walls at intervals. He wore a black leather sensory deprivation hood, criss-crossed with thick leather straps into which an inflatable gag was inserted, the bulb through which the air was squeezed hung down before him on its rubber tube. Apart from this the only thing to adorn his body was a hinged steel clamp that encircled his scrotum holding a massive cock and a pair of testicles before him. A slim steel sound had been inserted into Zlatan’s urethra, a red electrical wire attached to the tip that projected from his piss slit. A similar black wire hung between his legs which I subsequently learned was connected to a steel butt plug.
A black control box stood on a table beside him. Every couple of seconds a red light flashed, this coinciding with a stifled groan that was almost completely silenced by the gag, held tightly in place by the head harness whose studded leather straps encircled the leather hood. Each flash of red was accompanied by a slight tremor of his tightly chained body as the bolt of electricity coursed through his tortured muscles. I would later learn that Zlatan was the property of a guy called Goran the Serb. Unlike his well-muscled companions, Goran was a slim man who wore frameless spectacles that gave him the look of one of the interrogators who had occupied this place eighty years ago.
Briefly I took in my surroundings as Claus led me by the collar into the centre of the dungeon. It had been fitted out superbly, obviously with absolutely no expense spared. It contained all manner of equipment, all of it expressly designed for the confinement and torture of it willing guests. Willing that is until play got under way in earnest. By that time, it was too late to turn back.
The creative bondage that Zlatan was currently suffering was a hallmark of his owner’s cruelty. It seemed that this BLUF group worked as some kind of cooperative. Slaves appeared to effectively be common property, used by whichever dominant was providing the entertainment at the time. I just hoped that I didn’t fall into Goran’s hands. The men all seemed to be watching the torture of Zlatan, and Claus stopped with me on all fours at his booted feet as the electro torture device seemed to enter a new sequence. Red lights on the control box lit up like a Christmas tree as the program delivered what were evidently stronger shocks. As each burst hit him Zlatan’s body shook in its chains, enough to make them rattle slightly whilst the scream was locked in his throat beneath the tightly secured hood and gag.
Claus released his grip on my hair, pushing me down hard onto the floor, the bare stone cold against my chest. His laced knee boot roughly kicked me over onto my back. He then placed it square in the centre of my chest, applying sufficient pressure to ensure that I was unable to move a centimetre as he applied enough pressure to make me briefly cry out in pain.
“Silence boi! You don’t speak until your master tells you to.”
His tone was harsh, accentuated by his heavy German accent. The other guys had now spread out around us, intently watching the display as Claus continued to provide the show. I was quite fearful now as I looked up at Claus, his face staring at me down the shaft of his boot. I squirmed like a trapped insect ,but Claus had no intention of letting his prey escape. I shook with fear, wondering exactly what i had let myself in for.
“You are going to serve me in any way which I desire. And some of my desires are beyond your wildest nightmares!”
He crossed to the wall rack and selected a steel spreader bar and a pair of very substantial looking leather cuffs. He weighed the bar briefly in his gloved hands, feeling its weight before kneeling to strap the cuffs around my ankles. Each had a pair of buckles, one set holding a strap that went across the soles of my feet. He pulled hard on them, drawing the buckles good and tight. Now I realised that they were in fact suspension cuffs, designed specifically for the wearer to be hung upside down in a manner that would render him totally vulnerable to whatever activities the master had in mind.
Claus lifted the steel bar effortlessly, taking my legs with it and connected it to the hook that hung from the timber ceiling beam. He began to haul on the chain and slowly my whole body rose upwards. Suddenly my world was inverted and I hung helplessly from the ceiling. I went higher and higher. Claus’ breeches and boots appeared then disappeared as my suspended body turned lazily in midair. I felt my arms being bound across my back, strapped together in what I knew was called a box tie. Another, longer strap was threaded through my upper arms. Claus tightened it with all of his considerable strength. I could see the other masters all watching this virtuoso performance as Claus prepared his victim. The next time I swung in his direction I saw the fearsome image of Claus holding a braided black bullwhip.
As he moved closer my eyes focused on the whip. It was about five feet in length, tapered with a blood red cracker at the tip of its black shaft. It looked fearsome and I guessed that, in the right hands it could do real damage. Claus moved in towards me and I noticed that the height at which I was suspended meant that my mouth was exactly at the level of his crotch. He stood, legs apart, before me. He gave my body a gentle push, enough to set me swinging. Every time that I swung towards him I was able to place a kiss on his leather bulge.
“Oh I do like that boi. But first we have some unfinished business, don’t we? You may kiss the whip, boi.”
He held me steady as I felt the leather braiding cool beneath my lips. I kissed it as ordered and Claus let me go so my body recommenced its gentle pendulum like swinging.
The first stroke came like a bolt out of the blue. Claus had waited until my suspended body was facing away from him. I heard the crack and felt the impact of the leather tail across my bare buttocks. The pain was intense, searing, burning and caused me the embarrassment of screaming out. Claus stepped forward to steady me before stepping back and unleashing a second stroke. I heard the leather cutting the air and then the pain came once more, a stunning impact of leather on soft, unprotected flesh. I screamed again and fought my bonds. A hopeless one-sided fight of sinews and muscle against steel and leather. Soon the strokes fell thick and fast.
When the whipping ceased I hung in silence, endorphins flooding my brain. Claus was already strapping the device around my head. Straps criss-crossed my skull, and the hooked steel arms slotted inside my mouth. He adjusted the buckles to optimum tightness. Winding the screw my mouth was forced wider and wider until it was held open to the fullest extent possible, making my jaws ache.
My next view was of his zipper down, and standing out horizontally was his massive, thick uncut cock. Claus carefully drew back his foreskin exposing the huge purple ridge of his helmet. Pre cum was already pooling on the head. I bent my body to take it in my mouth just long enough to lick it clean. His black leather glove was stroking his shaft, and he guided it into my mouth. Now a firm thrust of his leather clad hips pushed it to the entrance to my throat and I felt my airways blocked as he entered me to the fullest, deepest extent.
With my jaws clamped wide apart and his rampant weapon reaming its way deep inside me, there was nothing I could do but hope that he reached a climax before I suffocated. Time and again his cock drove deep into me.
Luckily Claus was so turned on that he was unable to hold his orgasm back for too long. Now it was his turn to fill the dungeon with noise as, with one final desperate lunge of his hips, he launched the whole of his load into my throat. His cries of pleasure and triumph celebrated an easy victory over his bound and helpless boi, whose one function now was to be a receptacle for the thick, creamy juices that now pumped like a fountain into my throat.
Unable to swallow due to the fact that my mouth was held in a full rictus by the steel clamps of the gag, I could do no more than feebly cough in an attempt to clear my airways. No sooner had Claus withdrawn that another guy took his place. Fortunately he too was already on the brink of a climax and soon shot his load into me. Within a few minutes each master had taken advantage of the bound and helplessly suspended slaveboi before him.
Finally a ripple of applause echoed around the dungeon. An appreciation of the show. Each master fully satiated. For my own part I felt the thick man juice coating my lips and spread across my face and chest. I felt that the applause was at least in part a tribute to my passive contribution to the events that had been enjoyed by everyone.
And now I realised that I had enjoyed it too.
Note from Metal: The above account contains elements of a story called “Action in Berlin” that the author posted on Literotica some time back, and the copyright to the story is owned by him. Elements of this story have been edited or removed by me.
