Slut Boy Mega Collection Volume 2

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three One of THOSE DaysIt was one of THOSE days.

About once a week, usually on the weekend, Olive and I go from being caregiver and client, home health aide and C-5 quadriplegic, to Mistress and Slut-boy. We’re close to the same age, if of barely different race (she’s half black, I’m all white), and she works intimately with my naked body every day: bathing and dressing me, helping with even more personal kinds of hygiene, and then finally getting me into my wheelchair for the day. Naturally we flirt a lot, and although she never gives it up, our risqué banter and her fabulous body both drive me absolutely crazy. Finally on my birthday a while back I at least talked her into giving me an innocent spanking.

Innocent: yeah right. Her callused palm smacking so hard against my naked ass turned us both incredibly on. It seemed we’d found a way to mix business with pleasure that didn’t involve s*x, strictly speaking, but which was erotically rewarding just the same. One thing led to another, and soon we began delving ever deeper into bondage and discipline. Now she basically does whatever she wants to me, and I gladly endure it. The truth is, I’m so starved for female interaction that pain and humiliation have become incomparably pleasurable to me – as long as it’s a lovely, unattainable female inflicting it.

So as I said, it was one of THOSE days: Saturday morning, about eleven o’clock. Olive had just finished bathing me, and had returned me to my big waterbed. But instead of dressing me for the day, she justifiably decided instead that she wanted to play.

I wear a condom catheter attached to a collection bag to contain my urinary output. Unfortunately, this also acts as a chastity device in more than one way. Since I can’t remove or replace it myself, it keeps me from m**********g or even touching my own d**k. And since the space inside it is limited, it punishes any attempted erection severely. As you can imagine, when it’s off, and I’m in the tub being bathed by the exquisitely sexy Olive, I can’t help but sprout an amazing hard-on. She always teases me about this: bathing it oh-so-slowly, over and over again, and yet never allowing me to come or even touch it myself. My crazed frustration tickles her to no end; knowing that I’m incredibly turned on and hot for her, indeed madly in love with her yet pathetically unable to do anything about it satisfies her sadistic streak like nothing else.

Unfortunately, it’s also impossible to re-apply the condom while I’m thus ridiculously erect. Even after I’ve been returned to the bed I remain achingly immense, throbbing with the need to shoot my seed, desperate for even the barest breath of caressing breeze. For fifteen minutes Olive waited impatiently for me to deflate, so that she could apply the condom and get on with things. Then she decided she couldn’t wait anymore.

“You’re not behaving today, Tom. Your little monster just won’t go back to sleep!”

“I’m sorry, Olive. It’s just that he needs release so bad… Do you realize it’s been nearly three years since I’ve had an orgasm? And you are the sexiest damn thing I have ever seen… I know you won’t sleep with me, but if I could have just thirty seconds alone with him, I could make that little monster limp again in no time…”

“Yeah, and get your nice clean bed and body all stinky-spermy-spewy. No chance, Mister! I like you just the way you are: eternally unfulfilled. And I’ve got a much better way to make you all submissively limp!” With that she reached out and squeezed one of my testicles – hard. Pinching that bulging blue-ball so tightly that pain and nausea washed through me in a crippling flood (you should pardon the pun), she achieved in about ten seconds what my own manipulations would have taken thrice as long. Then as soon as my erection had melted away, Olive applied the condom and plugged in the bag. Gloating, she smirked down at my distress, her eyes sparkling in that mischievous way I’ve come to simultaneously love and dread.

“You have most definitely been a very naughty boy this morning: begging me to let you jerk off! A naughty little Slut-boy! I’m going to have to punish you for that!”

“Yes, Mistress,” I quietly acknowledged. And with that exchange of names, our roles were well and truly changed. Mistress went and shut the bedroom door, so that my housemate Alyssa couldn’t hear what we were up to. Not that that’s likely, of course: eighteen year-old Alyssa had two of her teenage girlfriends over last night, and judging by the noise, the coke party/f**k-orgy went on until nearly dawn. And anyway, as Olive gets me up everyday, Alyssa puts me to bed each night. She has seen the weekly welts and bruises, and even given me a sly knowing twinkle each time. Naturally I’m hopelessly in love with her too, but have even less chance of scoring – Alyssa is most exclusively a lesbian. Anyway, Mistress shut the door; then she opened the cabinet containing all our various restraints and toys. She withdrew three ropes, one long and two short, and the makeshift ball-gag we’ve fashioned from a small whiffle-ball and cord.

All the sudden my heart was pounding, and my c**k trying futilely to once again erect. This was impossible with the catheter in place of course – my miniscule monster grew about two inches more and then was pitilessly crimped off. That didn’t stop it from trying to erect further, however. Nothing on Earth could do that. Hot blood pounded throughout my entire groin, trying to force itself inside, and the pain in my cramped c**k grew apace with my insanely escalating arousal. Oh goddess, how I needed this… If the only intimacy I could share with this gorgeous, clearly superior female was submission to her every sadistic whim, then I’d gladly take it, and abjectly beg her for more, more, more...

Mistress took the wedge-shaped pillow used to prop me up for reading or eating in bed, inverted it and set it next to my waist. Then she rolled, lifted, and manhandled me over onto it until I was facedown, my waist atop the apex and my legs and upper body slanting down either side. My painfully pulsing organ and the attached bag were drawn out the back, between my legs, until the hard foam pillow held it back-bent and pointing down, straining powerfully not only to complete erecting, but to return to its original natural upright curve. Both were impossibilities of course, and the pain and futility of my condition increased my arousal constantly, compounding the insane situation endlessly…

Next Mistress spread my legs out as wide as they would go, practically in a split, and used her two short ropes to bind my ankles to either side of the bed. Of course, this wasn’t really necessary. As a quad I can move only my head, shoulders and arms. Nevertheless, Mistress insured that no involuntary muscle spasms could cause my legs to jerk around once she really went to work on me. Then she grabbed her last, long rope and secured my arms. These were bent around behind my back until the forearms overlapped. Firmly they were lashed wrists to elbows, and wound redundantly around until escape was another utter impossibility. The rest of the rope was then passed up and around my shoulders and chest and back again and again, creating a tightly trussed harness that imprisoned my upper body absolutely. Next Mistress inserted and secured the whiffle ball, and at last I was ready for punishment: facedown, hopelessly bound, firmly gagged with my screaming c**k back-bent and my vulnerable ass thrust high in the air.

“Perfect,” Mistress smugly smirked. “Just one more little thing…”

A large, heavy metal manuscript clamp was suddenly attached to the underside of my rubber-sheathed p***s, crushing in on its entire length from base to glans and compounding the agony and arousal in that eternally unused organ exponentially. Then, as I squirmed and whimpered and futilely fought my pitiless bondage, Mistress at last picked up my longest, heaviest leather belt. Kneeling next to me on the bed, she doubled it over and c****d her arm.

“Here we go, Slut-boy,” she breathed with unfeigned arousal and glee. “Punishment time!”

Her strong arm swung, the strap swished down and cracked across my naked ass with an alarmingly loud sound. Biting hard on the ball, I grunted with pain yet managed to contain it somehow. Yet that was only the first of many strokes. By the fifth I was screaming mindlessly into the gag. Shuddering and spasming uncontrollably, my backside was so afire with agony that I didn’t know how I could possibly endure it. Yet the strokes kept falling: ten, twenty, thirty cracks across the ass that rendered my skin a mottled blue and black and my mind a whirling maelstrom of competing pain and need. Yet through it all I still loved and lusted after my beautiful mistress desperately, finding in her abuse the only possible substitute for my eternally denied biologic release. I was actually disappointed when the count suddenly stopped shy of fifty, not understanding at first why my mistress had paused in giving me what I so clearly needed. Then I realized the bedroom door was open, and three curious faces were peering in.

There was leggy Alyssa, with her beautiful porcelain skin and shiny chestnut tresses: thigh-length and a bit disheveled from her brief time in bed. Behind her was petite Tonia, shorthaired with pointy n*****s poking through a threadbare T-shirt, and earthy, busty Wendy: blonde and voluptuous and as uninterested in me as the other three women in the house. Alyssa’s voice was both shocked and amused. “What on Earth is going on in here? What are you doing to Tom?”

“Just a bit of ass-whipping,” responded Mistress Olive. “You girls want to join in? After all, this isn’t Tom. This is just Slut-boy, a humble little s****l submissive who just lives to service us women. He loves to be bound and whipped, and to submit to anything else I see fit. Every week he cleans my feet with his tongue; he’d even clean my cunt and bung if I’d let him. Wouldn’t you, Slut-boy?”

Guilty as charged, I could only avert my blushing face and nod. Immediately Mistress slashed down another stroke of the belt, bringing another cry of erotic distress from me, and a gasp of astonished excitement from the three girls. Again Mistress made her demand.

“Wouldn’t you just love to service and submit to all three of these lovely ladies, as well as me? Admit it, Slut-boy, so we can all go to work on you. Tell us we can do absolutely anything we want to your pathetic body and submissive soul!”

Again I nodded vigorously, still averting my face from this glory of femininity.

“Well how about it?” demanded Mistress of the three goggling girls. “Either come in here and help me discipline this pathetic little s**t, or get out and let me get on with it!”

“Let’s do it!” crowed Wendy immediately. “I know dozens of guys I’d love to pay back for all their assholery! This one can make do for all of them!”

“Yes!”

“Definitely!”

All three teens pushed into the room. Dressed in only panties and T-shirts that left little to the imagination, they spiked my already raging arousal considerably. Oh, how my pinched and back-bent, crimped off and eternally denied organ burned and strained at the sight of them! Mistress handed her belt off to Alyssa, and pointed the other two toward the cabinet. “Here Alyssa, you have a go at his ass for a while. You other two can each whip the soles of his feet!”

And so they did. While Mistress took a bit of a break, and encouraged the budding young dommes in their development, Alyssa took up beating my butt with a fervor I’d never have dreamed of in her. Grunting like Serena Williams, she delivered every two-handed forward smash like she thought it would be her last. No doubled-over strapping here: Alyssa held the belt by the end and swung its entire length. Four feet of leather hissed through the air and exploded into my ass with a concussion and crack! that had me sobbing abjectly within seconds. Meanwhile, standing on either side of the bed, Wendy and Tonia used smaller belts to beat the bare bottoms of my feet. Desperately I struggled for freedom, escape, even sanity, and was always implacably denied. And still the day was only beginning…