Wednesday, March 23, 2011

MASTER AND SLAVE

By Al
Scott   

   I like to get fucked. I also like to get tied up and have the shit beaten out of me. For this reason I like big men. But sometimes in Manhattan, all you find are cute-ass boys who would make better cub scouts than masters. That's why I'm a writer.
I write porno stories. It's a good way to get through a hot summer night when there's no burly number around to whip my ass raw. I strip down to nothing but my jockstrap and while I write about young studs being abused by experienced masters, I jerk my fat piece of dick until I cum all over the paper.
It's midnight and I'm too fuckin' drunk to go to the bars. I have one hand inside my jock, feeling my balls sweat and squirm. I squeeze my meat until it hurts as I begin to write:
 
Carl scrutinized the half-naked men as they stalked one another in the underbrush. Shadows among the trees pressed one another in the under­brush. Shadows among the trees pressed against each other hungrily; distant moans of pain bruised the otherwise soundless night. Carl shoved his hand in his pants and felt his cock pounding. He shut his eyes and sunk into half-fantasy.
Carl saw in his mind a big man: his chest was heavily-muscled and covered with coarse, dark hair. Carl could hear the husky voice talking in his head.
"How would you like to have that hot white ass of yours beat until it burns?"
Carl felt his prick ache. "No," he begged.
Suddenly, a hand slapped Carl's face, hard, and his eyes popped open. His skin burned with the sting. This wasn't a fantasy. In front of him he saw a face: a heavy beard, a moustache, deep set eyes. Carl was scared.
The man didn't raise his voice. "Say it," he ordered.
"I wanna — I wanna — "
Carl's head was swirling around dizzily. He didn't know what he wanted. But his dick did: it was hammering inside his Levis, swollen with arousal. He felt his butt twitch; involuntarily he flexed his tight cheeks as if in preparation.
"What do you want?"
"I wanna — I wanna get beat . . . sir. Beat my ass . . . sir."
The man nodded. "Follow me."
 
I drop my pencil. I stand and tear the jockstrap from my perspiring body: my rod stretches out from its hairy bush — hard and pulsating. I watch the lube dribble over the blue-red veins, making the black flesh glisten. I wrap my hand around the rigid shaft and yank; easy at first, but the sensations boil inside of me and I tighten my grip. I beat the fucks tick and feel the jism simmering deep in my balls.
I grab my testicles. I search the firm protrusion of flesh under my nuts until I find my asshole. With a surge of strength I clench my bung tightly shut and push against the tensed sphincter with my forefinger. Tighter. Harder. My ass muscles release suddenly with exhaustion, and the finger shoots up the tender shit-chute. I flinch. I explore the juicy insides: I jerk my finger violently back and forth, sending sensations of pain rushing through my body.
I sit in the hard desk chair and the finger sinks deeper into my bowels, accompanied now by its mate.
I pick up my pencil and begin writing again:
 
Carl followed him into the woods, holding onto the man's belt strap so he wouldn't be lost in the foggy island night. They reached a clearing. He spun Carl around and grabbed the young man's undershirt with both hands; without a word, the two hands ripped the flimsy garment down the front and flung it to the dirt. Carl felt the cool air on his naked chest. His young muscles glistened in the mist. The man placed his hands on Carl's torso, massaging the smooth, hairless body. The strong fingers gripped the hardened nipples and twisted. Carl heard himself groan.
The big man uncoiled two leather straps from his belt. "You like to get tied up, boy? Do you like that?"
Carl nodded.
"You gotta learn to speak up, boy. Haven't you ever had a master before?"
"No, sir." Carl felt the rough bark of the tree against his wrists as the man tightened the leather straps.
"You're my slave now. And whatever I say, you're going to do — understand?"
"Yes, sir."
The master yanked at Carl's belt buckle: it flew open. With a single motion, he jerked his slave's pants down around his ankles.
"Now stick that fuckin' ass out, slave."
Carl obeyed. He looked over his shoulder and saw a knife flash in the darkness. He gasped. He closed his eyes and felt strong hands on his back; they wrapped around his jockstrap and suddenly, it was gone — cut in two by the blade. It slithered to his feet.
"You're going to do exactly as I say, slave. And I say — beg! That ass looks like it could use a good workout. But you have to beg for it."
"Please — " Carl began softly.
"Louder."
"Please, sir — "
"Please, sir — what?" he growled.
"Please, sir. Beat me, sir . . . beat my ass. Beat it good."
Carl heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled.
"I'm going to beat the shit out of you," his master snarled.
Carl started to protest. He cried out and tried to wrench free, but he was bound. His wrists burned where the tight leather thongs dug into the flesh.
The first blow bit into his bare ass with a vengeance.
 
I scramble under my desk. Behind the wastebasket, in the bottom of a musky-smelling travel bag, I find it. The leather feels rough; it smells of salty flesh. It is short, thick. The metal studs shine in the lamplight. I rub it against my smooth black buttocks. I lift it high into the air as my tight dark buns quiver in anticipation. The leather strap cracks across my skin; I jump in spite of myself. I raise it above my head. Again the leather strap slaps against the tender nerves of my ass-cheeks. I grit my teeth. The leather strap flies through the air again. It thrashes my already sore ass: the studs dig into me like nails.
I lash my aching butt. "Beat me," I moan. "Beat my motherfuckin' ass."
My body screams with a dull, stinging pain. "Beat that black ass!" I howl. "Harder! Harder!"
 
"HARDER!" Carl spit the tears out of his mouth. He heard the belt whistle as the man flailed his nude body. The leather scorched his skin like a smoldering coal. He twisted as it cut into his flesh.
Again.
Again.
"Beat me!" he screamed. "Beat me! Beat — !"
An avalanche shook his body. His face contorted in an outcry of surrender. The agonized wail forced its way from the pit of his gut, up his throat, to his lips — then, suddenly, the pain stopped.
The man dropped the belt. Carl opened his eyes. The trees spun around madly as he melted again into a half-fantasy.
He imagined a finger pressing against the sweat-moistened opening of his asslips. He imagined the funky smell of his freshly douched asschute permeating the air. He imagined a finger prying its way into his insides, scraping against the sensitive walls of his cunt. He felt his shithole ablaze as he was filled with man heat.
"Fuck me — " Carl groaned. "Fuck that hole."
"Louder!" his master barked.
"Fuck me! Please, Master, fuck me!"
"That's right! Beg for it, slave! Grovel! Tell me you wanna get fucked, goddammit, like you never been fucked before!"
Carl bit his lip: this wasn't a fantasy.
The monstrous fuck stick rammed into his bunghole, ripping him apart. Every nerve ending was shredded as the man dick slammed into his bowels. The pain shattered through his body and he was helpless to fight it. He clawed the trees and arched his back to receive the iron spike of flesh plowing into his raw asshole. Deeper and deeper, it battered his tormented cunt, lacerating the flesh, slashing it to ribbons.
"Fuck me! Sir!"
"I can't hear you!" his master bellowed.
"FUCK ME, OH GOD, FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUU-U-U-UCK- !"
He felt the man juice erupt like fire into his gut. Like a thousand tons of dynamite, his body was detonated. Fireworks roared inside his head. His balls blew up in the pit of his groin and his dick exploded with a geyser of burning liquid.
" — Cuu-u-u-uuming — !" he shrieked.
The orgasm pounded against his body. The massive ramrod of flesh plunged into his fuck hole with no mercy.
"— Cuu-u-u-uuming — !"
His jism shot into his open eyes, scorching them. It shot into his open mouth, choking him. It shot across his chest and stomach and legs and pants.
"— CUU-U-U-UUMMII- I-I-IIIII—!"
His body throbbed. The master drove his giant cock into his slave one last time and jerked it out.
Carl collapsed. He hung from the tree, his arms still bound, like a broken puppet.
The master untied the slave. Carl fell into the strong arms: they were warm. He felt enveloped, enclosed. Safe.
"You fucked me and I came," Carl said as the man stroked his head. "You beat me and you fucked me and I came." Carl felt man lips against his.
 
I wipe my body with a towel. My ass is sore from the leather strap. My butthole is sore from all the fingers of one hand shoved up it. My fat piece of dick is sore from orgasm. The cum is all over the paper.
And the porno story is written.

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