The Voynich Enslavement
Del was very concerned now about the slave, and, turning off the TENS machine, undoing the restraints and removing all the TENS paraphernalia, told him to quickly shower, re-douche, and get in tip-top shape for The Garden in just over an hour. Seeing the boy respond properly, but slowly. Del stopped worrying and knew that Binky would be up to what lay ahead at the eatery. He also realized that Binky was too out of it to have heard the part about The Garden... and he laughed out loud at that.
Chapter 3
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Feeling almost totally drained, but more than ready for The Garden, Del jogged upstairs and quickly shaved, showered and dressed. He also spritzed on some odorless concentrated pheromone spray ... and then some more, wanting to make sure Binky was beyond lust during the van-ride to The Garden. He pocketed the small bottle, thinking to give Binky himself a good spritzing, to excite Rod and the other guests there. Once downstairs, he went to the kitchen and took a 'little blue pill' and set one aside for Binky, thinking it would be better to be safe than sorry, and he grinned to himself.
Just then Binky stepped into the kitchen, looking freshly scrubbed and clean, with his rings polished nicely and his butt-plug seated properly, and assumed the kneeling present position, legs spread very wide. Del smiled at the slave and handed him the blue pill, which he swallowed dry, while Del spritzed him well with the pheromone spray, making sure that anyone within fifty feet of the slave would spring an erection. Del asked Binky, “You get all that hot stuff off you, boy?”, and Binky nodded, looking at the floor, as was proper.
Of course, Del was glad to see this minor infraction, and whipping his belt off, he warmed the uppity slave-boy's ass for him with ten well-placed stripes. Binky's vocalizations always warmed Del's heart, and he gave a real nice performance this time. Del then said, gruffly but without anger, “Let's try that again, boy ... You get all that hot stuff off?”
This time, Binky almost yelled out, “SIR, YES SIRRR!!!”, maintaining proper posture and slave attitude. Del grinned at him, feeling pleased that he'd had this chance to help Binky grow in his slavery.
Del told him to stand up and present, and inspected the boy carefully, looking for any signs of sub-standard hygiene or attitude, and finding all to be in order, told the slave, “You remember The Garden, and you know what I expect of you there ... you'll be entertaining my friend, Rod, and me while we're there, boy, and anyone else I decide on. Good slave attitude, boy! Joyful service! Immediate compliance! Gratitude for the attentions of free Men! You understand, boy?” All the time, he was fondling the slave-stud’s massive erection and large balls.
Binky immediately responded, “SIR, YES, SIR!!!”, with no hint of attitude in his voice ... Del was delighted at the slave’s growth in just the few hours they'd spent together today!
Del asked him, “Would the Binks like to cum today?”
Binky replied, “Sir, this slave only wants what Master Del wants for it, Sir!”.
Del was almost disappointed that the slave had given such a good
answer, but tousled his hair and said, “Good boy! Now, let's get you loaded into the van!” Grabbing Binky's balls nice and tight, he led him out to the van, where he strapped him in the passenger-seat, for easy access during the ride.
The drive to The Garden took about twenty minutes and Binky was well fondled and felt-up by the time Del pulled up in front. He handed his keys to the parking attendant slave, who was a fine piece of eye-candy, indeed. And he noticed that Binky appeared to think so, too. He squeezed the boys balls just a little bit harder, to get his attention away from the other slave, and led him into the eatery.
Del was pleasantly surprised to see that, not only was the head waiter the same slave, Smarmy, whom he remembered from his last visit, but that he recognized Del and Binky, and effused over them for some time before leading them to the table Rod had reserved. Rod was already there, and before Del or Rod could say anything to one another, Smarmy told them that the meal and drinks were on the house, knowing that Del and Binky were such good patrons.
Rod stood up, and shook Del's hand, and the reminiscences began, with Binky snugly seated between them. Del had been right . . . Rod was really turned on by Binky, and his hands were never off the slave's body for very long.
Rod spent the most time, however, admiring and fondling Binky's organs, and it was clear that Binky enjoyed the attentions . . . Del was hoping that Rod would push the slave 'over the edge', as it would get the festivities started a bit early, with a most public and stimulating punishment for the slave. But Binky maintained proper slave attitude, and without permission, he didn't dare to cum. He knew that this eatery had a full-service Dungeon, available at anytime for private, or very public, educational sessions.
Their catching-up now being mostly done, Del asked Rod why there was so much top-level interest in the Voynich Manuscript.
Rod began a surprisingly concise explanation of the situation, which was, basically, that some hare-brain in the Pentagon's ultra-top-secret weapons-planning department had decided that the Voynich Manuscript contained coded instructions for an ultimate weapon, and in the current political climate, any opposition to this nonsense was considered treasonous. Furthermore, the instructions Rod had been given went much farther than collecting information ... he was authorized to 'collect' S. W. Pilkington-Smythe, himself, if need be.
Del was astounded to hear this, even knowing that the government's power was virtually infinite and unstoppable ... Rod was authorized to lift P.-Smythe! This was enslavement. Not only that, but it was the enslavement of one of the most visible, wealthy and powerful men in the state. Del wanted to hear more, and Rod was more than eager to share.
This person -- the one who believed the Voynich MS. described an ultimate weapon -- was willing to enslave anyone Rod selected, if it would get the manuscript deciphered for the Government, and not by some civilian, who would publish his translation for the public. Del sensed opportunities here . . . his brain went into overdrive, looking for a way to make this situation work for him, too. He started thinking of who he'd like to see enslaved.
Suddenly, Del was drawn back to the present, as Rod jerked his head back and started to growl. Del noticed that Binky was now under the table, furiously throat-massaging Rod's rod. A mighty rod it was, too ... Del knew then that Rod had had penile enhancements, because in college he'd only had an average-sized cock. Rod held the Binky's head down on his man-root and let loose with a roar of pleasure, as Binky struggled to swallow and breathe at the same time. Rod convulsed over and over again, and each time Binky would quietly vocalize in desperation, knowing the penalty Del would gladly mete out to him for spilling even a drop of this free man's cum.
As Binky tongue-cleaned Rod's cock and replaced it carefully within Rod's pants, Rod quickly recovered, had a few sips of wine and resumed his story, and Del reached under the table and grabbed Binky's ear and directed the slave to his own eager manhood for some attention.
Rod told Del that this the entire operation was insane, and unjustifiable ... but no one, it seemed, had the power to oppose it, so Rod had no choice but to proceed with “Operation Lift P.-Smythe”.
Del asked him if it wouldn't be easier to just get P.-Smythe's coöperation, but Rod nodded vehemently, saying, ”Del, he and his family are staunch Democrats, and they've gone on record as having almost treasonous attitudes toward the Republicans and everything they touch! This administration, in particular! He'd coöperate about as willingly as I'd have sex with a female slave!” He gave a more-than-slightly nauseated snort at that thought.
While the good Binky worked his not inconsiderable magic on his weapon of lust, Del thought again about how to use the current opportunity for his own ends, and he thought he’d just figured out how.
“Rod, you said that, basically, anyone you point a finger at is eligible for enslavement under this mindless plan, right?”, Del asked, making sure he understood this thing correctly.
Rod nodded, and asked, with a grin, “What's that devious mind of yours up to, old buddy?” He'd remembered Del's abilities when it came to getting some personal advantage out of nearly everything that happened around him.
Del smirked back conspiratorily, and said, “Ya know, old buddy, that if P.-Smythe is the only one you 'lift', anyone with a half a brain will connect the dots and assume it has something to do with the Voynich ... and I'm assuming your bosses want this to be a secret, right?”
Rod nodded in assent, and expanded, “Any smoke-screens I need to throw up are authorized; yes ... the real reason for his 'lifting' must remain a secret, at all costs. Why? What are you thinking, Del?”
Del smiled devilishly and said, “What if you enslave the whole clan ... for, say, family income-tax evasion? Concealed slave-ancestry? Illegal substance violations? Whatever . . . no one would suspect that the Voynich was the real reason behind it, would they, old buddy?”
Sitting back, spreading his legs to give Binky a deeper access to his throbbing cock, Del gave Rod a satisfied, “There! I've solved the problem!” kind of look.
Rod smiled back, and nodded, saying, “By Jove, I think he's GOT it!”, in a silly, mock-British-accent, which Del remembered from college, making him laugh.
Del was on a roll. He figured that in a well-maintained clan like the Pilkington-Smythes, there had to be at least a few delectable morsels just begging to become Del's new slaves! 'But … how do I get Rod make me a free gift of these potential slaves?' he thought to himself.
Del said, “Now, Rod … I'd like both of us to gain from this plan, if at all possible, and I want to help you get the job done, too. So, how about you and I heading over to my place to research this clan, on-line, and get the whole bunch of them listed, with pictures? We can work from that and, eventually, get ourselves some free, prime slave-flesh . . . we've just got to work out the details of the mass-enslavement of the clan. Sound good?”
Rod nodded in agreement, and as he was about to speak, Smarmy approached the table and ... well, smarmily asked Del if Binky was available for a performance on-stage with the eatery's resident Dungeon Master.
Rod looked at Del ... Del looked at Rod ... and they both said, much more loudly than necessary, “YES!!!” Binky jerked a bit under the table, and then Del added, “Smarmy, you're such a good head waiter! Such an excellent suggestion!” And then, in a very reasonable voice, he said, “And, of course, you'll be joining Binky up there, so the Dungeon Master will have some ... variety ... for his show, right?” He grinned at Smarmy, who went white as a ghost.
Smarmy's wheels were turning ... rapidly ... and he knew he must agree to this ... fast! “Of course, Master Del, Sir! Thank You, Master Del! Smarmy will be most pleased to assist in the show, Master Del!”. And while he sounded most authentically delighted, he was clearly scared half out of his mind. He raced out of the dining area to prepare as quickly as possible for his debut as a punishee. Smarmy was quite a well-built hunk of slave-flesh himself, but had gone far too long living almost as if he were a free man ... almost ... and Del was more than happy to help this supercilious slave-twit regain his slave state of mind.
Binky had slowed down his efforts to drain Del, and Del was quite aware of the slave's thoughts -- he knew that Binky wanted to postpone the scene on-stage for as long as possible. And so, always looking for ways to help slaves further their educations, Del took out a pen and wrote a short note on a napkin, flagging down a passing waiter and telling him to give the note to the Dungeon Master.
Enjoying Binky's ministrations for ten more minutes or so, he then grabbed Binky's head and pulled him up and off of his cock, and said to him, “Get your ass up on-stage, Binks! I expect you to make me real proud up there, boy! Remember, Binks … Good slave attitude! Now, GIT!” and he smacked the slave on the ass, as he had by then crawled out from under the table and was standing at slave present.
Like it or not, Binky jogged quickly to the stage, remembering from his last experience here at The Garden, where the stairs were, and he disappeared backstage for his own thorough toilette. The pale and terrified Smarmy showed up a few minutes later, totally naked for the first time ever, there in the eatery, and they were both cleaned, shaved and oiled like all slave performers were before a show.
Binky returned to the stage ten minutes later, followed by Smarmy just a bit after, both glistening and looking good enough to eat. Binky's already impressive organ was even more engorged now, as the blue pill had really taken effect, and the crowd of diners applauded the two well-hung slaves, knowing that something special was in the offing.
Suddenly, the house lights dimmed ... and a small spotlight was directed to stage right, where, a second later, a vision of Male Excellence in Leather stepped out from behind the curtain to garnish ... no ... to adorn ... the stage. He was magnificent. The Dungeon Master was seldom seen here in public, remaining in the eatery's sub-basements where he was responsible for training the live-in slaves for service above, teaching them, the hard way, of course, how to perform all the tasks that might ever be requested of them by paying customers, in addition to teaching them how to perform on-stage. To have him grace the stage himself was ... extraordinary. The entire eatery burst into appreciative applause.
He was wearing a simple black-leather harness, with leather work-jock and cod-piece, and high black leather biker-boots ... all of it shined to a mirror luster ... his entire body, a testament to God's infinite love ... his every move, a study in efficient grace ... his musculature, proof of his hard work in the eatery's full gymnasium every day ... his wickedly handsome smile … wide, white, perfect, and filled with the promise of fun to come.
Taking center-stage, he stood there, posture perfect, his muscles gently and slowly rippling as he worked all of them for the pleasure of the patrons, who had not yet stopped applauding and cheering. Slowly, tentatively, looking around at every patron for a second or two, he reached for his cod-piece, and with a questioning look on his unbelievably handsome face, gestured, as if to say, “Should I take it off?”
The entire eatery went wild, everyone joining in, yelling, “Take it Off! Take it OFF!!!”, but the Dungeon Master didn't take it off ... no, he looked out at the crowd, disappointment and irritation clear, and in his deep, manly voice, sounding like a Marine Corps Drill Sergeant, YELLED at them, “I ... Can't ... HEAR ... You!!!”
They went ape-shit! The yelling and roaring became nearly deafening, as the crowd tried harder to soothe the Dungeon Master's clearly bruised ego ... there wasn't a soul in the house who wasn't yelling “TAKE IT OFF!!!”
After basking in this adulation for what seemed like forever, the Dungeon Master finally, slowly, teasingly, smiled a breathtakingly beautiful smile out at the house and began to unsnap his Manhood's leather prison ... one shiny silver snap at a time. The crowd began to go quiet, as everyone was feeling almost desperate to see the treasure hidden behind that leather flap. Soon, the house was as silent as a tomb, and they were able to hear each snap coming un-done.
The Dungeon Master was a superb showman, and he knew how to torture his audience with anticipation, and when to speed things up, or slow them down.
“Snap!” ... “Snap!” ... The breathing in the house was inaudible, as everyone was holding their collective breath ... “Snap!” ...
The Dungeon Master was down to three strategic snaps ... any one of them being unsnapped would most likely result in the exposure of his Pride ... and he scanned the crowd, back and forth, slowly, before settling his steely gaze on one particular patron, a young man, slender, boyishly handsome and certainly no older than twenty-two. He was clearly not the kind of man who would be able to eat here on his own income, and was, in fact, the guest of a wealthy older Man. The Dungeon Master maintained his piercing scrutiny of this young man, and finally, slowly, beckoned him on-stage with one hooked finger, a “Come hither!” gesture.
The young man was attired more for a fast-food restaurant than for this establishment, but was clean, neat and attractive in appearance, as well as being an eye-full of male beauty. As if hypnotized, the youngster rose from his seat, to the hushed encouragement of his elder benefactor, and walked, slowly but determinedly, toward the stage, and then up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, on the edge of the stage, he went to take a step, but ...
“STOP, boy! A desperate, starving worm like you doesn't deserve to walk! You deserve to crawl! GIT!”, the Dungeon Master commanded, firmly and loudly enough to cause most hearts in the room to go pit-a-pat. And the young man did ... he lowered himself to hands and knees and crawled to the Dungeon Master, stopping about one foot away from him.
The Dungeon Master smiled down at the boy, and then snapped his fingers at one of the ever-hovering slave-studs, who rushed forward with a leather paddle and handed it to the Master. The boy was a free man, yet seemed to be in a perfect slave state of mind ... he was looking down at the floor, knowing he wasn't worthy enough to look up at this incredible stud. So, he hadn't seen him receive the leather paddle, which the Dungeon Master was now holding above the boy's ass, gesturing questioningly to the crowd, as if to say, “Should I whack his ass?”
Once again, but more subdued, the crowd began, tentatively, to call out, “Whack him! Whack him!!!”
The Dungeon Master, grinning hugely, held one finger to his lips, and the house went silent again. He looked down at the boy before him on hands and knees, smiled, then said, sternly, “You may begin, boy. Make sure all those free men out there can see what you're doing, too, boy!”, and the boy repositioned slightly to afford the crowd a better view of the impending release of the Dungeon Master's no doubt awe-inspiring ass-splitter. He timorously stretched his head up ... the house utterly silent now ... and took hold of the upper left snap in his teeth, and looked up at his Master, seeking confirmation and approval. The Dungeon Master smiled down at him and nodded, and the boy undid it . . . “Snap!”
The leather flap immediately bulged out, threatening to release its precious prisoner ... but it held, enough to extend the mighty root's confinement for just a while longer. The boy, anxiously and slowly, stretched up for the upper right snap, clenched it, again, in his teeth, and again sought his Master's approval, and again the Dungeon Master smiled down and nodded. The boy twisted and pulled, and the snap came undone.
“Snap!” Like a lightning-fast Jack-in-the-box, the Dungeon Master's fuck-tool erupted from his crotch ... the leather cover was blown completely off by the sudden escape, and it fell to the floor in front of the boy.
The house had never before been this quiet, ever ... the boy was utterly helpless now, totally mesmerized by the splendor throbbing and gently bobbing before him to his new Master's heart-beat. The Dungeon Master bided his time, drawing the suspense and adoration out to the last endurable second, and then said, “You think you'd like me to give you a chance to please that Little Dungeon Master there, boy?”
The boy looked up, as if looking at some ancient Greek God, and with humility and sincerity, said clearly and loudly enough for all to hear, “Sir, Yes, Sir ... Please, Sir ... Please give this unworthy worm a chance to serve You, Sir!”
The dungeon Master smiled down at him and then looked over at Smarmy and Binky, who had been stage-left watching this unimaginably beautiful scenario take place in slack-jawed wonder. He snapped his fingers at the two of them and gestured to them to come over, and as they got closer, he told them, “Strip this new slave! Let him have one little taste before I send him to be properly prepared for my service!”
Smarmy and Binky rarely ever received orders which were so pleasing to comply with. Aware of the crowd, they teasingly stripped the boy so that all could see what was happening, one article of clothing at a time, folding each and neatly making a pile next to the group of four on the stage. When the boy was finally slave-worthily naked, the Dungeon Master smiled conspiratorially at Binky and told him, “Grab his balls, nice and tight, and squeeze down real good ... stop only when he's about to scream,” and Binky did so, with clear and visible delight. He'd never imagined that he'd ever be able to participate in an actual enslavement, and his joy and pride at taking charge of a free man's balls showed! The boy was still looking up into his Master's eyes, shaking just a bit from Binky's enthusiastic following of orders, and just as the boy began to jerk in pain, the Dungeon Master said, “You can lick it once, boy. GIT!”
The boy, now in pain, thanks to Binky's rigid interpretation of the Dungeon Master's order, leaned forward, so slowly it looked like slow-motion, and, at last, opening his mouth and extending his tongue, licked the monstrous weapon before him, starting below the balls, and teasingly working his way up to the head of the palpitating bludgeon. As soon as he reached the top, he yelled out loudly in pain. Binky had interpreted his orders to include stopping the boy from going farther than the Dungeon Master had permitted, and so, he'd squeezed down nice and hard on the boy's balls, to put an end to the boys pleasure.
The Dungeon Master clearly appreciated Binky's initiative, and gave him a nice smile, and nodded, encouragingly. Binky smiled back, and squeezed harder on the boy's balls, and he let loose with another, even louder and more heartfelt scream of anguish. The Dungeon Master, after enjoying the boy's torment for a minute or so, signaled to Binky to let go of the free boy's balls, and smiling kindly down at the boy before him, said, “The audience has requested that I allow you to have some of this leather paddle before you go to prepare for your enslavement here on-stage, boy. I think that's an excellent idea, myself! Would you like a nice paddling here in front of all your friends, boy?”, and he signaled Binky, by gesturing with his fist, making a tight squeezing, twisting and pulling gesture, to resume teaching the boy's balls their lesson. The boy quickly started to buck, but was able to say, before pain overtook him, “Sir, Yes, SIR!!! Thank You SIRRRRR!!!!” and here Binky's careful and thorough ministrations to the boy's tender balls proved to be more than the handsome young pre-slave could bear, and he began to yell out in unbearable torment yet again. The Dungeon Master said to Binky, “Hold steady, slave-Binky! Hold 'em like that until I say otherwise!”
Binky looked like he was really getting off on this, being a kind of assistant to the Dungeon Master. He must have figured all that talk about receiving punishment was just a little joke, and he smiled, as if lost in joy.
The Dungeon Master told the boy, “Stay in position for this boy! You move, I start over at the beginning! You got that?”, and the boy yelled out, his pain very much in evidence, “Sir, Yes, S... !”, and before the boy had finished those three words, the first very nicely-applied whack hit the boy's ass ... and the boy screamed out even as the audience began to cheer! The Dungeon Master turned to the audience and said, “Good guests ... please! Let's allow this new slave to be heard! I ask that you all obey a rule of silence until he's received all the love he has coming from this worthy paddle!”, which set the crowd off laughing again, but they stopped fairly quickly, seeing that the Dungeon Master wasn't going to continue until they were all quiet.
One after another, the Dungeon Master allowed the boy to feel his power and his joy, through the leather paddle's impacts on his clear, pink skin, and with each whack applied, the boy's shrieks and screams got a bit more desperate, louder, and more frightened. Being an expert at his craft, he knew how to apply the maximum education without breaking the skin or doing damage to the student, and watching him was something one could never forget ... a kind of poetry in motion, as he moved around, back and forth, to get access to yet another needy part of the boy's body. On and on it went ... the boy was a bright pink all over now.
Then the Dungeon Master gestured to Binky to let the boy's balls go, and to move back away from the boy. Stepping in to the vacated space, the Dungeon Master allowed the boy's balls to receive their just due ... a very well delivered whack, square-on to his balls ... and the boy reached a volume and a note he'd previously not been able to reach, losing his control and falling flat on the floor to escape the paddle. And then he passed out, no doubt thinking that to be the only escape he had from what had just happened.
“Take this new slave to be prepared, and get your sorry asses back here pronto! GIT!”, said the Dungeon Master to Binky and Smarmy, his gargantuan cock visibly throbbing with excitement!
Binky and Smarmy grabbed the hurting boy's arms and rushed him stage-left to hand him off to staff slaves for douching, shaving, bathing, plugging, ringing and banding, and to be anointed with slave-oil. They were back at the Dungeon Master's feet in less than thirty seconds, at proper kneeling slave present.
The Dungeon Master let them stay there for almost five minutes ... the house remained silent as death ... and finally, he looked down caringly at Binky and said, slowly ... kindly ... reasonably ... “Your Master told me that you've displeased him three times today, boy. First, you didn't thank him in his dungeon, the way you should have, to show your gratitude to him for the lessons he was teaching you, which shows us all how ungrateful and disrespectful you are. Second, he told me how you were fidgeting on the drive here today, which very nearly caused your Master to have a terrible accident, which shows us all how thoughtless and uncaring you are. And third, he was not pleased with your pathetic attempt earlier at delaying your visit with me up here today, which shows how self-centered you are, and how unwilling you are to spare your Master from humiliation. He's asked me whether or not I might be able to teach you right from wrong, boy, for all your ungrateful behaviors today. And, boy, I've decided I'd give it a try, because I've come to think that you can still be trained right, Binky, if it's done correctly.” And with that, he snapped his fingers.
From stage right there appeared five slave-studs pushing a large wheeled cabinet, a mobile whipping-frame, a TENS unit with several large drawers below, a fucking-horse and an open-box-like sling unit, which they arranged around the Dungeon Master, waiting for further orders ... which were quick in coming.
He told the two slave-studs closest to Binky to secure Binky on the fucking-horse, to strap him down well, and to remove his butt-plug. The shocked look on Binky's face was priceless ... he'd apparently thought that he'd earned some sort of reprieve from this, having served with distinction as the Master's assistant.
The Dungeon Master then motioned to the remaining three slave studs and told them to install Smarmy in the sling and to hook him up to the TENS machine, saying, “Give him the works, boys! It's time for that slave to remember he's a slave!”, and he laughed, the audience joining in with him.
As the five hunks worked on their charges, the Dungeon Master stepped forward a few feet, towards the audience, and scanned the expectant faces carefully. After a lengthy survey of the crowd, he pointed at two men, “You, Sir! ...... and ... You, Sir! Please, if you would ... come up and lend me your assistance and expertise in teaching these two rebellious and ungrateful slaves the lessons they need so desperately to learn!”
The two men stood up, and the audience burst into applause, seeing how ruggedly handsome they both were, how large they were (each over six-feet tall), and how they were both solidly built. Deliberately and without undo haste, the two free studs walked to the stairs and up onto the stage, where they were NOT made to crawl, but instead, were treated to a hearty handshake from the Dungeon Master, who asked them their names, and whether they had ever punished a rebellious slave before. They both said that they had, many times each, and both said that they'd enjoyed the experiences very much, each time duty had called.
The Dungeon Master asked for another round of applause for the “two Assistant Dungeon Masters”, and the two men beamed with pride at being called by that title.
The Dungeon Master recounted the charges against the two slaves on the stage, and asked the first Assistant, one Buck Davis, what, in his experience, Binky's punishment should be, and Buck said, “Well, Dungeon Master, I can only say what he'd be getting from me if I were in charge, based on my experiences. I'd only use my belt on him, first of all, but I'd put a parachute on his balls and hang a twenty or twenty-five pound weight to it, so he starts off feeling how much trouble he's in. I'd let him sit like that, so the pain could grow, and...”
The Dungeon Master, smiling a very big smile, interrupted and said, “Excuse me, Buck, but I guess it's true that 'Great Men Think Alike'! I'm giving you total control over Binky's lessons, because I feel like you can teach him as well as, or better than, I can!”, and the crowd cheered Buck for this vote of confidence.
Turning to the second Assistant, one Greg Holt, the Dungeon Master asked him the same question about Smarmy and his punishment. Greg thought for a moment, and then said, “Well, I figure that the TENS unit, set to a nice high power level, and set to “random shocks”, combined with a well and meaningfully applied caning, might just get the lesson across... as long as there are enough toothed-clamps attached to the slave, Sir,” at which the audience roared in appreciation of his sense of humor. The Dungeon Master let Greg enjoy the applause, and then assigned him control of Smarmy's punishment, and again the crowd cheered.
As if planned, the newly enslaved boy was returned to the stage, where he was instructed to crawl over to the Dungeon Master, stop in front of him, and await his command, which he did, with great dispatch. His newly ringed cock and balls swayed and bobbed along as he crawled on hands and knees.
He was a beautiful boy, and there were many sighs and other sounds throughout the audience, indicating approval of the changes. His ass was still a very bright red from the paddling he'd recently been allowed, and there were many nice, long, red welts across it and his upper legs and back. Most other parts of his young body had also been given access to the paddle and were almost as red. He seemed very alert and attentive, patiently awaiting a command from the Master ... who stood before him, smiling proudly down at the boy, his cock twitching as if it knew a special secret.
Snapping his fingers, he told the five slave-studs to secure the boy into the whipping frame, facing the audience, adding, “Be careful with the merchandise ... you'll be getting some of him soon enough!”.
Buck and Greg, meanwhile, had received stage-cues telling them to hold off on their work of love until the Dungeon Master signaled them to begin ... both slaves and the newly enslaved boy would be granted their educational sessions at the same time, in a ménage à trois of most excellent instruction.
Once the boy had been installed and stretched out, nice and snug, with little or no 'wiggle room', the Dungeon Master simply looked out at the crowd, and held one finger to his lips, signaling “Quiet!”, and he gave them a nice smile. Stepping to the cabinet on-stage, he opened it and began a lengthy examination of one instrument of instruction after another, making sure that the boy and the audience could all see what he was holding each time. He finally settled on a two-foot cat, cracking it a few times for effect, which had the desired affect . . . the boy started jerking a bit, and erecting, too, obviously very frightened. He then stepped behind the boy, beaming with joy at the audience. The boy, now unable to see the Master, began fidgeting a bit, but that was nothing compared to what he did when ...
“Whapp!”, and the boy acted like an electrocution recipient. For someone bound as tightly as he was, he surely could thrash and jerk. And with the sound-effects he shared with the crowd, it's not likely that there were any limp cocks in the house, free or slave, at that point in the show. Giving the boy a chance to enjoy and revel in the newly-discovered joys of the cat, the Master held off for maybe ten seconds, and then ...
“Thwack!!!”, and the boys nuts were allowed a taste of this special love ... the cat had hit his ass and upper thigh, but some strands had wandered, as is their wont, and had caressed the delicate, tender orbs to the side. He went wild. His jerking and screaming were Academy Award winning in power and depth. The Dungeon Master was looking like a very proud father, standing behind him.
Suddenly, and at the very same time, Binky and Smarmy joined in the chorus of the chastened. The room was filled as never before with the sounds of good men teaching important lessons, and their students giving audio and visual proof that they were learning.
For thirty minutes, these three free men, the Dungeon Master, Buck and Greg, shared their experience and their caring ways with these two slaves and the newly enslaved boy. Everyone in the audience was moved by the dedication and attention to detail these three men applied to their work ... and were aroused totally by it all.
The Dungeon Master signaled Buck and Greg to halt their efforts, and turned to the audience with a shit-eating grin, asking, “Should these three be allowed the opportunity to show us three free men their gratitude for what we've taught them here this afternoon?” and the audience loved it! Yelling out whatever they thought would work, they yelled and screamed at the stage, wanting to see slave gratitude!
He laughed and yelled out, “OK, OK! We'll allow them this chance to show us their thanks!” and turning to Buck and Greg, who'd already exposed their cocks, ready for the reward to come, said, “Let's fuck 'em, men!” and taking a position right behind his boy, he nodded at the other two to begin and ...
“Oooomph!”, and all three men had broken through to that special reward inside! Binky jerked and made an “Oooof!” sound, Smarmy yelped, and the boy ... well, folks, he had been a virgin ... the audience was rewarded very well for their patience by the whipping-rack-mounted boy's initial scream, caused no doubt by the lightning-bolt of pain through his ass. But just as good were the following wails of anguish, his jerks and convulsive thrashings, and his tears. The three men paced themselves, almost as if they were in military formation, keeping time with each other ... nice, easy, deep, slow fucking ... all the way in fast and hard, then almost all the way out, nice and slow. The Dungeon Master was being very, very careful to give the boy the best 'stump breaking' he knew how to deliver, and the boy's many animated and ear-splitting reactions proved that the Master was indeed a Master of his trade.
The three continued their assaults on the three students' asses for as long as they all could, and when the Dungeon Master saw that Greg would be cumming at any moment, he yelled out, “Let's give it to 'em, men! Hard and deep!”, and a three-man free-for-all ensued as they drove their cocks in and out faster and faster until.....
“FUCK!! I'm cu-u-u-u-uummmmming!!!”, roared Greg, nailing Smarmy's hole as hard as he could, eyes rolling back in his head from the pure ecstacy of it all!
“SHEEEE-ITTTTTT! AAAaaahhhh!!!! Take that fuckin' load, boy! AAAAAAHHH!!!”, yelled Buck as he was filling Binky's ass with his man-cream!
And then a deep, bass roar began to fill the room, as the Dungeon Master, his pace still picking up, looking like he was trying to split the boy in half, began to roar a mighty roar ...
“RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! OHHHHHH, FUUUUCKKK!!! AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!”, and the boy became the vessel for his Master's hot, thick jizz.
At this point, the audience lost all control! “Standing ovation” would be an understatement. They were insane with appreciation of the finest educational presentation they had ever seen. Yelling, clapping, jacking off, and some slaves receiving their Masters cocks while bent over tables. Waiters were being drafted to serve overly excited patrons. It was a veritable hullabaloo, and the management had sent twenty fresh young slave-studs upstairs to handle this unprecedented need for service.
There were later reports of free men raping other free men ... and of the rapees thanking them for it when it was over.
At long last, maybe a half hour after the three men on stage had donated their ejaculates in the name of education, the Dungeon Master stepped forward, and, in a deep and commanding voice, simply yelled out, “Attention!” That got the whole house to look up at him, wondering if there were MORE yet to see!
“Thus endeth the lesson!”, he said, in a very passable Sean Connery accent, which earned him a real standing ovation.
It was another hour before Binky was returned to Del and Rod, cleaned and scrubbed, and the three of them could return to Del's place so that the two free men could relax. ... and Del had planned that Binky could wait in the Dungeon's single cage, well-shackled, so he couldn't relieve himself. He was so rampantly frustrated, with a desperate, burning sexual need ... and could only wait helplessly for his fate to be revealed.
-o-o-0-0-O-O-0-0-o-o-
Your feedback is the fuel of my
imagination;
[author's note: Many thanks go to my Editor, who is not bashful at all, when it comes to whipping my story into shape. He is responsible for transforming my rough draft into something which can actually be read! I suspect that, were He able to get His hands on me, there would, quite likely, be another type of 'whipping' going on!
Special thanks are also given to the writers and editors at Tickie who encouraged me to do this, and, of course, to Tickie himself, for allowing my outrages to appear on his site! Thank You to all.
Writing this is pure pleasure for me, and I hope it pleases those of you out there who have taken a chance on me by reading it. Your comments, suggestions, criticisms and other remarks you may have for me are always appreciated, and are solicited herewith. - hs]
Posted: 09/07/07