Embracing my perversion

Sorry for the long wait for the next installment. I've been busy and my perverted thoughts have been wandering elsewhere. I'm getting close to wrapping this story up. I may pick this story up at a later time, or maybe I'll write something else. We'll see. 

Reminder: this is where the story starts, and this is where you'll find all chapters.

After the intense impaling race, I loved just following the masters' lead and mingling with the perverted and horny crowd for a while. My boy pussy did need a bit of a break. Of course, I did know that the break wouldn't last long in the end...

They took me by a few rooms, had a look at what was going on in each of these places. Most of the rooms were entirely new to me and it was exciting to see all the possibilities--all the things that I am sure to be subjected to if I keep coming here--and, how could I not knowing all the things in store for me? 

One room was marked the bukkake room. There was just one skinny, twinky boy naked and kneeling in the centre of the room. There must have been at least two dozen men jerking off around him waiting their turn to paint the boy's face. The boy looked like he must already have taken a few dozen facials and all of the men circling him looked like they had at least a few more loads in them. The boy was located in a small inflatable kiddy pool, so that all the cum dribbling down his face and body would be collected. Some men had him open his mouth so that he could swallow their load, others aimed for the face, and yet others for his hair, which was completely clumped and covered in cum. Some men came in, shot a load, and left. Others stayed around and got themselves hard again. Some men barely acknowledged the boy, except as a target, others couldn't stop talking to the boy--telling him how cute he was completely drenched in cum and how only a real slut like him could greedily and enthusiastically keep opening his mouth wide for load after load for hours. 

There was no way of telling how long the boy had been there, though the pool of cum in which he was kneeling suggested a long time. Yet, the boy continued to show great enthusiasm for every load he received--no matter how and where. He seemed like in a trance--he was high on cum and every load only supercharged his high. All I could think was how lucky this boy was. I hoped I'd be there one day. 

The three of us watched the scene for a while. Master M was clearly enjoying the show and was playing with himself. He told his boyfriend he was just going to add one load to the boy's tally and handed Master J the leash. Two men were just shooting their load when Master M walked up and they stepped aside as soon as they were done--one had aimed for the boy's face, the other had him hold his mouth wide open. Getting himself right up to the edge with his right hand, he grabbed the boy by his cum-soaked hair with his left. He pulled the boy's hair to get his face closer and said open wide--he gave the boy a huge load to swallow. The boy made sure to get the last drop by sucking the tip for a second--so much cum, yet still greedy for the last drop! As Master released the boy, the hair was left standing up in little peaks because of being grabbed that way. His left hand was covered in the cum of dozens of strangers, and he had me lick it clean before we moved on to the next room. All the old cum mixed with the boy's hair tasted... delicious. I almost felt like I was honoured to be the bukkake boy--but this for now was the closest I would get. 

It struck me that from the perspective of a slutty pet like me, this place only had one drawback--you don't get to choose to serve in this room. However, I figured if I kept coming back, I'd end up here at some point! I couldn't help but wonder whether they use the huge amount of cum in the inflatable pool at the end of the night to have boys wrestle in it...

We went through a few more rooms. One was especially set up for intricate and predicament bondage, with the walls and ceiling covered with hooks and bolts to attach ropes and chains to. There were boys suspended in all kinds of twisted and seemingly impossible positions. One boy was kept in what was without doubt an incredibly uncomfortable squatting position where bending down deeper would tighten the noose around his neck but standing up to loosen the noose would stretch the rope around his balls. He was sweating and on the brink of tears--and rock-hard. Many muscular and beautiful boys were just contorted in positions that showed off their tight abs or big pecs or ass. They were mostly just there for decoration. Men were milling about, chatting, and enjoying the views, but they weren't necessarily paying attention to or playing with one boy in particular. The rope burn on some of the boys suggested that they had been in the exact same poses for a long, long time. 

On the next stop, I learned that the facility also had a gym for the dominant men to use--I couldn't help but wonder what this place didn't have?! A few boys were used as punching bags, and some other boys were put through forced and intense workout programs--they were sweating buckets and on the brink of keeling over from exhaustion. Most boy here, however, were used in the locker room, where they licked, kiss, savoured, and worshiped the men's sweaty bodies, sweat-soaked socks, and pungent smelling feet and ass cracks. These lucky boys were enthusiastically kissing and licking every square inch of the sweat-drenched men who had finished their workouts. Master J commented on how there's nothing better than two or three sets of tongues and lips caressing every sore muscle you have to recover properly from a workout. The masculine scent coming from the locker room made my locked little dicklet strain so hard in its cage!

When we arrived at the torture dungeon, where I had almost ended up for this night, I was terrified. I knew I would experience this myself at some point, and I've already taken some decent beatings. But, what I saw scared me. And, it wasn't just what I saw--it was the sounds. The begging, the crying and wailing, the screams. In most other rooms you hear boys beg--but usually for more. The agony and anguish you could feel present in this huge room made my stomach tense. I felt nauseous for a while. I looked around and everything I saw were probably things I could take on their own: I see some boys getting whipped or caned, some have electrotorture devices hooked up to their dick and balls, or as a plug in their pussy. Some boys are getting fisted, and there's a boy hanging two feet above the floor from his genitals. There are boys covered in layers and layers of hot wax or having heavy weights hung from nipple clamps. 

It strikes me that most of these things are bearable--to some extent--on their own, but here they are all taken to the extreme. A group of men gathered around one poor boy is discussing what it will take to get this boy to finally beg them to stop. The boy in in tears, crying buckets. His chest, back, and ass are all crimson red from all the whipping, caning, and more that he's already received, his balls are covered in dried wax, and there are several big nails piercing through his nipples, an electro plug is sending regular shocks of seeming increasing intensity through his pussy. He looks like he's on the point of passing out, but when one of the men asks him whether he's ready to beg them to stop--reminding him that he can do so at any time and all of it will stop immediately--he says no. He wants to show them how much he can suffer for them. He says he never thought he would be able to take this much, but that he's proud that he can still keep going.

His attitude makes me feel better about the knowledge that sooner or later I'll end up here. I know I can take pain. I know I'm willing to push my limits. I know I want to show these men what I can take. I know I'll ultimately enjoy being able to suffer for them--even if it scares me!

Master J recognized that it was all still a bit intense for me and led me away form the room--the screams, crying, and wailing stayed with me, however. He said that he needed to piss and I naturally assumed that I would get the privilege of drinking it. "Not now, boy. Don't worry, I'll have more for you later but first we want to show you another feature." 

He leads me through another door into a room full of human urinals. There's at least a dozen boys patiently waiting for men to relieve themselves, fitted with funnel or more simple open mouth gags. Some are blindfolded, other can see the men whose piss they are drinking. Some are completely encased in a wooden box with only a funnel sticking out. There's a constant stream of men coming and going, pissing, maybe spitting down the funnel as well, and leaving without saying a word. Master J walks up to one of the blindfolded boys and pulls out his thick, half-hard dick. Just before he starts pissing, he says: "How things have changed." The urinal boy clearly recognized his voice, panicked, tensed, and then accepted that there was nothing he could do. "When we were dating--you know, before you cheated on me--you didn't want any of the kinky stuff that I was into. Now, you cannot get enough. Was it that you just did not want to do it with me? Either way, you don't have much of a choice but to drink my piss now." The boy obediently guzzled it all down and Master J walked away with a smile--he knew that he degraded his cheating ex much more than he could ever have done if the ex had been into kink back then. 

It was getting late and the masters agreed on going to one more room...

We're almost at the end of the second night. To be continued.