Gay Slaves
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Gay Slaves |
If I relaxed, it just flowed back in me. Jack thought this was pretty funny, and watched me try to get the liquid back out. Finally, I was so tired I just gave up, and let the liquid flow. By the time the bag was empty, I was really uncomfortable, and kind of squirming on the table to find a more comfortable position, but there wasn’t one. I just felt bloated and had sort of a bad stomach ache, but I could stand this, I thought, if it didn’t go on too long. Jack disconnected the bag, crimped the end of the cathetar so none of the liquid could get out, and then went for another tube that looked the same as the one that was in my dick, but was larger. “This one’s for your ass,” he said. “Yes, sir,” I said, sort of panting. Jack spread a little grease on this second tube, and, reaching between my legs and moving my balls out of the way, guided it up inside me. This one hurt less, but went in a lot deeper. Really, it just sort of felt weird, like I had to take a shit or something. Then he started squeezing the air-bulb on this one, and my bowels seemed to fill up. He smiled down at me. “Another little balloon,” he said, “to keep it in place.” |
Once he’d inflated the balloon, he removed the air-bulb and went to get a big rubber sack with a hose coming out of it. It was wet. He hung this from the same rafter over the table, connected the hose to what was in my ass, and released a clamp that had crimped the hose, preventing it from leaking. I felt a flow of liquid up my ass. It felt okay, at first, but pretty soon started to hurt real bad. Real bad. I was already bloated from what he’d put up my dick. This made that feel a whole lot worse. My stomach ache got to be almost unbearable. I watched as my belly started to rise, as though I was pregnant. Again, I tried to push back the liquid, but the effort hurt so much with each push, that I finally gave up, knowing it was futile. The water kept flowing into me, making my belly bigger and bigger. I had to shit. I had to get it out. Finally, the bag was empty and I was crying, begging him to let it out. “This is only half-a-gallon,” he said. “Do you really want me to let it out?” I thought about the money. I needed it really bad. I owed someone money who would do stuff to me a lot worse than this if I didn’t pay up. |
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But, the pain was terrible. “No,” I finally said though my tears, “I’ll be okay,” hoping I could get used to the pain. But that wasn’t going to happen. Jack disconnected the hose, crimped the end of the tube up my ass so nothing could leak out, put away the water bag, pulled up a chair, and sat down by the edge of the table to watch me for a while. I just kept squirming, trying to stop the pain, but it wouldn’t stop. I think it was the way I was lying, on my back, with the weight of all that liquid pressing down on me. I don’t know. We stayed like this, me squirming, Jack watching, for a long time. Finally he got up and started rubbing my dick again. This time the feeling was terrible. With each stroke, the cathetar moved inside me, scraping the inside of my dick, causing terrible pain. But, it got hard anyway, in spite of the pain. Finally, Jack put his hand on my belly and started to push, sort of gently at first, but then harder. I screamed and started to cry again. Jack smiled and stopped pushing. After a while, he untied my ankles and wrists, and told me to stand up. This was real hard and real painful, but I made it, hoping that another position would relieve some of the pain. It didn’t. The pain got worse. He told me to stand up straight, and to put my hands on my head. Fetching a steel restraint that looked like it had come out of the dark ages, he clamped my wrists at each end of the pole, securing it in the middle around my neck. So, my arms, bent at the elbow, were held level with my chin and each about a foot from my head. |
I looked like I was in a stick-up. Next, he attached two chains to the steel bar and hooked these to one of the rafters. Then he made me bend my knees slightly, and clamped a chain attached to the floor to my balls. I couldn’t straighten my legs without pulling on the chain attached to my balls, which caused great pain, and I couldn’t kneel completely on the floor because the chains attached to the bar holding my hands and neck wouldn’t allow it without choaking me. I had to support myself with the strength of my thighs. Jack stood back and admired his work again, watdhing me sort of hanging there, but really supporting my weight with bent legs, unable to straighten them without pulling on my balls. He smiled. “Just getting you ready for later,” he said. Before leaving the room (and he was gone for what seemed like forever), he attached two steel clamps to my nipples, their sharp teeth cutting into my skin. Each clamp had a chain that hung down, and he attached these to a ring that he fastened around my dick. As the weight of my dick pulled the chains, the clamps got tighter, making me scream from a new source of pain. “The best answer,” he said, before leaving the room, “is to think happy thoughts. Give yourself a hard-on so your dick will rise. Of course, the hard-on will make the cathetar move in your dick, and that won’t be pleasant, but if you can keep it up, that pain will be much less than what your flaccid little dick will cause your titties.” There was really nothing I could do. |
My legs ached already, and I had started to sweat both from the warmth of the room, and from the exertion of supporting my full weight with my thigh muscles. I tried just dangling from the bar that held my hands and neck, but the bar tightened around my throat, choaking me. I tried standing a little straighter, figuring that I could endure a bit of pain in my balls, but as the chain pulled my balls downward, the nipple clamps got tighter too, and this was more than I could stand. My stomach was terribly cramped. I was having spasms of pain as the liquid injected up my ass made its way up into my bowels. I had to pee and shit worse than I’d ever had to before, and I couldn’t do either. I was stuck, wishing I’d never come home with this guy. After maybe 45 minutes, Jack came back into the room with a ball gag which he forced into my mouth, and buckled behind my head. Then he started stroking my body, running his hands over my chest and belly, massaging my inner thighs, squeezing my balls, gently at first, then more firmly. I was crying. After maybe 15 minutes of this, he unfastened the bar that held my wrists and neck, and let me kneel on the floor while he removed the chain from my balls. Then, lifting me to my feet, he pushed me against a huge 8-foot cross, spread my legs wide apart, and tied them to hooks on the beams. Next he tied my hands above my head, forcing me to stand on tip-toes that barely touched the floor. |
When I was secured, he began to tie my balls, separating them in the ball sack and tying each ball separately and tightly, and attaching a small metal weight to each which dangled against the front of my legs. The agony continued as he left the room for another 45-minute break. When he finally returned, I was nearly exhausted. He untied my wrists and ankles, and removed the metal weights from my balls (though he left them tied). He then handcuffed my wrists in front of me, and told me to kneel over a large pain in the corner. He began to remove the tube in my ass, warning me to hold my water until he told me it was okay to dump. I did my best as he slid the tube out of my ass, and then released my load. As my bowels drained, I felt some relief, though my belly still ached from the liquid in my bladder. I hoped this would be next, but he made no move to remove the cathetar. Instead, he filled the rubber enema sack again, and inserted another tube up my ass, filling me once again with half a gallon of water. Removing the tube, he told me to let it out right away, and we continued this process five more times, each time filling me with a half gallon of fresh water. By the time I’d expelled the fifth bag of water, it was coming out clear, as though there was nothing more to clean out. “Clean enough,” he announced. He took me back to the long table, and told me to lie down on my stomach with my dick poking through a four-inch hole bored in the middle of the table top. |
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