Page 52

Master had fucked me around ten the night before and put a plug in me. I’d finally finished the last bathroom about ten minutes till one, and I was more than a little nervous about inspection today because I’d had to go so fast to get all the bathrooms finished in time.

I peed and leaned over the fucking machine as quickly as possible, and then waited. And waited.

How long? I have no idea. Probably fifteen minutes, but it felt like longer.

When Master finally arrived, he adjusted the fucking machine so my body was aimed down more than it usually is, and then put a bar in, over the small of my back so I couldn’t stand.

And then the belt struck a line of fire across my ass, and I yelped and nearly screamed. Master gave me ten strikes with about ten seconds between them, and then the belt rained fire on my ass, one strike after another, the crack of the leather louder than I could ever remember it being.

I was frantic with the nonstop pain, screaming and shouting. Eventually, tears fell, but Master didn’t stop until long after my sobbing started

When he finally threw the belt down, he stepped to my side and put his hand on my shoulder. “Why are we doing this, slave?”

“To get us started on the right foot, Master,” I spoke around my sobs as best I could, “and to help you decide which rules will work best for us long-term, Sir.”

“Exactly right.”

He stepped behind me and I assume donned a condom before he pulled the plug out and jammed his dick in my ass. It didn’t take him long to get off, and he released the bar over my back.

I stayed put until given permission to get up, and he waited a good five seconds to say, “Get on the cross. Facing out.”

I obediently walked to the cross and arranged myself the way he wanted me — feet on the little platforms and my arms up and out, so I was spreadeagle.

It didn’t take Master long to secure my wrists and ankles, but then my heart rose into my throat when he secured the tops of both thighs to the cross, and then used an ace bandage to secure my hips as well.

Without saying a word, Master walked to the wall and returned with a penis plug. I’d seen it in the drawer a hundred times and tried to ignore it, because the top part would spread my peehole three times farther open than it’s ever been before. I tried to shrink away from it when I saw what Master was holding, but I couldn’t move. Panic threatened to take hold, but I knew my Master wouldn’t do anything to cause true harm, so I merely said, “I belong to Master.”

It sounded subdued, way more than I was used to sounding, and Master kissed my cheek. “Good boy.” He set the plug on the little rolling cart beside him, opened a little container I recognized as a UV light box, squirted sterile lube into a small bowl he pulled from the UV light box, opened a packet with sterile gloves and put them on like a medical professional, and finally lifted another penis plug from the light box. It wasn’t exactly small, but I knew I could handle it. Discomfort would be an understatement with this one, but it wasn’t going to split me open.

“Trust is important. I’ll probably eventually work you up to the big one, but you aren’t ready for it yet.” He met my gaze. “I’m pleased, slave.”

He was pleased because I trusted he wouldn’t hurt me?

And then he coated the plug with the sterile lube, and I realized it was possible I’d known Master wasn’t going to use the first one because of the way he handled it, but then that thought was gone because the tip of the plug went in and spread my peehole, and that was the only important thing in that moment.

As expected, the plug was a lot, and there were lots of little yelps while Master mostly let gravity pull it in. Once it was all-the-fucking-way in, while I was still gasping and trying to deal with it, Master wrapped twine around my stomach and my dick, lining it up just below the head of my cock, just tight enough to hold my dick up. Not enough to cut off blood supply, but damn, it made me feel the motherfucking penis plug evenmore.

And then Master flogged the fuck out of my cock while I screamed and screamed.

He hit my balls here and there, but mostly he aimed at my cock, over and over and over and over. It felt like it went on for hours, and I know it didn’t, but when he finally finished it felt as if he’d turned it into hamburger meat. Cooked hamburger meat, because my dick was on fire. My stomach, too, because the plastic strands had hit it plenty while he battered my cock.

Tears streamed down my face. Snot ran from my nose.

Master oh-so-gently removed the plug, set it on the cart, cut the cord going around my cock, let it fall to the floor, and pulled a few tissues from a box. He’d taken the gloves off before he’d thrashed my cock, so it was his hands holding a tissue below my nose for me to blow into, and then a few minutes later, wiping my face with a damp cloth.

Finally, he disconnected my right wrist from the cross, but then stepped back, looked at me a few seconds, and walked towards the door.

“Get yourself the rest of the way off the cross and clean up in here. When you finish, draw us a bath in my bedroom suite with the peppermint stuff I like in the mornings. Kneel beside the tub if I’m not there yet.”

He walked out the door, and I struggled to get my left arm loose, but then unwrapping the ace bandage and disconnecting my ankle cuffs was easy.

First things first, I picked the condom and cording off the floor, threw them away, and then went to get the cleaner. In the bedroom, the condom usually lands on the mat instead of the hardwood floor. Down here, the floor is concrete, but wherever it lands, the spot has to be wiped up properly so it doesn’t leave a weird mark when the lube and jizz on and in the condom dries.

I hung Master’s belt on the doorknob so I wouldn’t forget to take it back upstairs, and wondered that he’d brought it with him, rather than using one of the straps already down here.

I put the fucking station back to its usual position, wiped it down, and then returned to the cross. It took a good bit longer to clean everything Master had used, but once everything was clean and in its place, I headed upstairs with Master’s belt to put it away and draw us a bath.

How much water goes into the tub depends upon whether he tells me to drawhima bath, orusa bath.