Slut Boy Mega Collection Volume 3

Chapter Three-2

Her preference is to see that I’m always madly sexually aroused, burning with unrequited desire for her, and yet never ever able to achieve any kind of release or even the slightest amount of normal physical gratification. As I lay there cowed and submissive beneath her, weeping and bleeding after my initial breaking in, Mistress smugly locked me into the implacable steel chastity belt that I still wear to this very day. I’ve had no choice in the matter whatsoever. After removing the key from the lock, Mistress melted it down and poured it into the hole, solidifying the entire mechanism. Since that aghast moment I’ve been forced to pee sitting down or squatting like a girl, and my recurrent and constantly pinched-off mini-erections are both exquisitely painful and extremely brief.

This makes those very rare occasions when I’m actually allowed the honor of intimate contact with my wife simultaneously both exquisitely torturous and desperately precious. Things like bathing and foot rubbing are torment enough. But once in a while at unpredictable intervals Mistress will actually let me out of my cage and into her bed, where she allows me to snuggle with her, to suckle at her huge, brown-nippled breasts and perform endless oral s*x upon her—as long as my cuffed wrists, shackled elbows and ankles are all hogtied tightly together behind me, that is. Then my ecstasy, arousal, and intermingled agony are all unlimited, and a howling madness of frustration swamps me, rendering my attentions ridiculously frantic. Eventually my giant Mistress is forced to once again don one her many hard c***s (preferably the ancient twelve-inch ivory one) and f**k my mouth and silly little sissy-p***y absolutely senseless with it.

On even rarer occasions, when Mistress lusts for hard c**k, she forces one half of another big double-headed dildo into my throat, then climbs aboard my face to engulf the other. Then, intimately connected to me by almost two feet of c**k, she rides my head like an indestructible donkey and f***s both my face and her cunt for hours. Several times I’ve lost consciousness during this process due to a dangerous lack of oxygen, only to be awakened once again by yet another unremitting assault on my aching, gaping, up-thrust spread-open backside.

As you can imagine, by these means and a million others, my domineering wife has had no trouble at all extorting the kinds of behavior she wishes from me. In addition to doing all of the cooking, cleaning, and other housework, within two days of our weird marriage and violently inverted consummation, I was always addressing her respectfully as Mistress, and waiting on her hand and foot around the clock. Within three days, she had me dressing exclusively in frilly pink lingerie, wearing make-up, jewelry and high heels, and timidly answering to the degrading name of Slut-boy. Within a week, I was also willingly suffering much more regular, prolonged and extreme forms of bondage; taking vicious beatings with a wide variety of weapons and enduring numberless other cleverly inventive punishments. Within a month, I was humbly servicing an endless parade of her grinning and sneering extra-marital lovers, both before and after they f****d my beautiful naked spouse to orgasm after screaming, creaming, shoulder-biting orgasm, right in front of me. She mocked her supremely humiliated cross-dressed husband, the wimpy little c**k-sucking cuckolded eternally virginal sissy-slut swinging there all d**k-locked and hog-tied, stuffed full of dildos in his cramped, dangling birdcage.

In all the years since that initial enslavement, Mistress has also had me collared, branded, and extensively tattooed, permanently marking me as her eternal personal property. She has pierced my flesh repeatedly; installing big one-inch silver torture rings in my tongue and septum, as well as in each of my n*****s and earlobes. These are of course quite handy for twisting, pulling, conducting electricity or attaching weights, chains, leashes, et cetera, or for enforcing arcane kinds of punishingly contorted bondage postures. But apparently not even these cruel body modifications, nor the birdcage, playroom, and all the other extreme amounts of torture, degradation and s****l deprivation that I’ve been habitually subjected to are enough. There couldn’t be enough emasculation for the hapless husband of this vengeful Vietnamese Mistress. Lately she has even begun to talk in a deadly serious manner about personally castrating me, and replacing my almost worn-out and unduly confining chastity belt with a clever new genital piercing she’s just heard about.

Apparently a device called an elastrator exists, a farm implement able to quickly and bloodlessly remove the scrotum of any male animal. A tight plastic seal is clamped about the base of the balls, cutting off all circulation to them. Soon they turn black, and after a week or so of agony, they rot and fall off, leaving behind nothing but a healed-up c**t-like nubbin of flesh. A steel or silver ring can be embedded in this, and another, similar ring can be threaded through a large piercing in the head of the p***s. These two rings can be linked together and soldered shut, locking the stupid little sissy-worm down under by the asshole where the balls used to be, as permanently small and pitifully flaccid as possible.

Surely it’s only a matter of time before Mistress carries out this diabolical new idea, even if my existing chastity belt has to be cut away. But for the time being it’s still business as usual. So after I quickly remove my skimpy clothing—stripping down to just my wide iron neck collar, six embedded rings, hard plastic anal probe and eternally locked chastity belt – I place my feet together, with my cuffed hands over my crotch, and stand quietly at attention. With my eyes fastened firmly on the hardwood floor in front of me, I wait for my lovely but cruelly pitiless wife to come and have her fun with me.

After perhaps ten minutes she enters, and I can tell by the sound of her movements that she’s almost completely naked. Surely only her black strap body harness accentuates those big, striking contours—that’s what she almost always wears to punish me these days. In any case, Mistress strides up behind me and orders me to open my mouth. Immediately I comply, and just as immediately she forces a large black p***s between my lips. This huge c**k-gag fills my mouth and throat both, forcing me to tip my head way back in order to accommodate it. Mistress fastens it with straps behind my head, and now I’m as stuffed as full of erection as ever. Leaving the big butt-plug—basically another huge plastic dildo covered with irritating nubs—still jammed up my ass, she kicks my feet apart until they’re widely separated. Then she locks each ankle to either end of an adjustable spreader bar. A waist-high suspension trapeze is placed horizontally in front of me, and without ceremony Mistress bends me over it. The handcuffs that I wear so often I almost cease to notice them are removed at last, and instead Mistress shackles each wrist to each ankle at the ends of the spreader bar that currently separates them.

This bar has a crank in the center, and as Mistress turns this, the bar telescopes, extending in length and spreading my shackled arms and legs ever further. At last my feet lose touch with the floor, and still she cranks, splitting me painfully out wide and leaving me hanging over the cruel iron bar cutting into my gut. That bar is raised another foot, and finally Mistress finishes by giving me a push, ensuring that my doubled-over and split-apart body swings easily from its low trapeze. Then while I sway back and forth and struggle to breathe, she takes her time choosing an appropriate implement of punishment.

Unable to help myself, I crane my neck, and catch sight of her in one of the mirrors. She is indeed wearing her black body harness, the crisscrossing vinyl straps gleaming against her saffron skin, leaving open triangles and diamonds that reveal bulging muscles and ballooning breasts; hard round buttocks and limbs of both perfect symmetry and breathtaking pulchritude. Her big, intimidating body flexes beautifully, fluidly, as she reaches up at a pegboard and grabs her favorite paddle from it.

Finely crafted and polished ironwood, this inch-thick three-foot long two-hander is both inlaid heavily with gold in order to double its mass, and perforated extensively by a sinister pattern of drill holes that increase the velocity of every swing. It takes powerful arms to even wield such an impressive weapon, but Mistress never fails to give me at least a hundred strokes with it. Now she takes it easily down from its place on the wall and approaches my guilty little locked-open stuffed-up ass.

She takes up her familiar position beside to it. “Here we go, Slut-boy! Time to start paying for that awful perfume!” Then she starts swinging her club-like paddle with all the skill and power of a professional cricketer. Constantly it cracks into my up-thrust buttocks, turning them from a healthy pink to an angry red to a terrible blue-black over the course of forty minutes. Yet that ungodly brutal assault is barely the warm-up to this punishment. Mistress hates excuses, after all, and has promised to be extra-zealous.

When at last my ass can withstand no more damage without seriously hampering my ability to perform my daily duties, Mistress is forced to change both weapons and points of attack. Trading the elaborate paddle for a traditional rattan cane, she starts to s***h this thin, limber stick across the backs of my thighs and the soles of both feet with all the inhuman viciousness of a World War II Japanese prison guard. This much worse torture continues for nearly an hour, driving me almost mad with gagged, upside-down agony. But then this skin too begins to seriously break down under abuse, and it’s time to move on to my still-intact back. Circling around the suspension bar, Mistress drops the cane and picks up her favorite cat-o-nine-tails. Each long flogger is tipped with steel, and soon she’s flailing away at me, lashing them relentlessly against my helpless back. Eventually I’m scored completely red, covered with bruises and welts from the back of my neck to the soles of my feet, and Mistress has received a workout that blows away anything the most sophisticated health club has to offer. But even though she’s dripping with sweat and puffing like a bull by the time she at last casts her cruel whip aside, she’s still got the energy and anger enough to perform the old stand-by on me.

Mistress’s body harness features an armored plate covering her pubis. Naturally this sports a mounting stud compatible with nearly all of her dildos, and true to my expectations, my wife strides over to a nearby rack and chooses the gleaming yellow, rock-hard ivory one. This monstrous c**k was carved from an elephant tusk, and is easily over twelve inches long and two and half through. Without comment, she attaches it to her crotch, where it curves up and out like some kind of oriental doomsday weapon. A relic of the Japanese Imperial past, this incredible p***s has begun to haunt my darkest dreams, and using it with all the abandon of a rampaging samurai has become my glorious wife’s preferred way to exercise her marital rights. Now she tugs on it, grunting with satisfaction, and returns to my hung up, spread wide, black-and-blue bruised ass.

After a bit of struggle, she succeeds in removing my butt-plug. That long plastic dildo has been battered so far up my ass by my paddling that I already feel as violated as any little she-male can get. But of course that’s just an illusion, or pathetic wishful thinking. As soon as that merely thick, static c**k comes out of my already extensively stretched ass, the active entry and pneumatic pounding of that enormous, gleaming yellow bone begins.

Mistress slams it in, practically to the hilt on that very first thrust. If not then, by the second and surely the third one her armored mons veneris is clapping hands with my ass, her entire huge bone stabbing completely into me. Growling with pleasure as she pounds me yet again into total s****l submission, Mistress deigns to drop a compliment.