Sedition (22 page)

“You’re starting to look better,” Torenze comments. “Muffin, look at this slave.”

“Yes, master.”

“Tell me what you see.”

“I see a lot of scars, master.” The boy sounds terrified.

“That’s right,” Torenze agrees. “A lot of scars for being a disobedient, naughty boy. I’m going to do his master a favor today by reminding him that he’s a dirty slave. You might get to help, Muffin. Would you like that?”

“If it pleases you, master.”

I can hear in the boy’s voice that it doesn’t please him, probably like being called “Muffin” doesn’t please him. I stay silent, resigning myself to the humiliation games.

“Muffin, what else do you see?”

“I see a dirty slave who has a cleaning brush stuck up his ass, master.”

So that’s what it is. I hope it’s clean; Cash will be annoyed if I’m infected with something.

“That’s right, Muffin,” Torenze says. “And that’s what little Trash-Boy is going to use to clean the bathroom, isn’t it, Trash-Boy?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, flinching when I realize I failed to keep the disdain out of my voice.

“Do you like your name, Trash-Boy?”

“No, sir,” I answer honestly.

He slaps the brush in my ass, jarring it and making me gasp in pain.

“Tell me how much you like the name, Trash-Boy,” he orders. “Beg me and Muffin to call you that all day.”

I want to tell him to get fucked. “I love the name, sir,” I lie. “Please, call me Trash-Boy to remind me what a trashy boy I am.” The words come out mechanically, but he seems satisfied. I guess his fantasy is driving the situation at this point.

He drags me into the bathroom by my hair and orders me to clean the floor with the brush in my ass as Muffin sucks his cock. I’m not looking forward to servicing him, but scrubbing the bathtub with a brush sticking out of my ass isn’t so pleasant, either. I try to make a game of it, attempting to actually clean well and not paying much attention to this man who’s successfully humiliating me.

I’m caught off guard when he throws me to the ground, rips out the brush, and shoves himself into me, rutting and thrusting while holding the brush frighteningly close to my face. I’m relieved when he lets it drop after coming inside of me.

He leans back against the wall, smiling and sated. He hands another bottle of water to me. “Drink it and take care of Muffin,” he orders, a lazy smile on his face.

I down the water quickly and then get up to go to the slave, unsurprised when a hand grabs my balls and jerks me down.

“Crawl.”

I crawl to the slave, who looks terrified. I smile up at him, hoping to be encouraging, and I place my hands on his thighs gently. I wish I could say something to him, but I know better.

“Get to it, Trash-Boy!” the order comes, so I take the other slave’s cock into my mouth.

He doesn’t fight me, but I can tell he’s not into it. I use all my skills to find something that turns him on, sucking hard, fast, slow, soft, caressing his legs and ass with my hands. I have a feeling it will go badly for both of us if he doesn’t get excited.

Finally, I feel him getting hard. I hope he comes quickly.

No such luck.

Torenze suddenly grabs his slave by the ear, jerking him away from me and making me fall forward, barely catching myself.

“Did you almost come from that dirty trash!” he demands, slapping the other slave with every step he drags him away from me.

“No! No, master, I swear, I didn’t!” The slave starts sobbing, going into hysterics. I feel bad for him.

“You did, and so now you’re going to be punished along with him!” Torenze decides.

It’s less of a punishment and more of a sick game. The slave must be awfully new if he hasn’t caught on to that yet.

“Trash-Boy, come!”

I follow with a sigh, shuddering as I feel the evidence of my previous fucking leaking out of my ass.

He takes us into what can best be described as a dungeon. I idly contemplate which promotion he purchased it with, and I’d put bets on the first one. He probably had the spanking bench before he had a matching bedroom set.

He ties his slave to a whipping post and selects a whip. I’m bored by the display, but bored is better than what I expected.

“Trash-Boy, get over here!”

I wish I could still be bored.

“Yes, sir?”

“You will beat this disgusting slave until he comes,” Torenze orders, shoving the whip into my hands. “There will be a penalty if he doesn’t.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, certain it won’t work. It’s just more of a setup.

Nonetheless, I get started, hitting the poor kid hesitantly, and wincing when he screams. It goes on for a while, and I’m hesitant to hit him very hard or break skin, but the fact that he’s turning lobster red indicates I’m doing something.

“Tell him just how much you want him to hit you, Muffin,” Torenze orders. The poor boy starts on a senseless rant about how he loves it and how he wants it harder. The humiliation this man is piling on his slave is almost worse than the humiliation he was about to pile on me, but it’s not something I can control.

After a while, Torenze stops me and turns Muffin around, showing me his tear-streaked face and hard cock.

“Taking a long time isn’t he?” Torenze asks. I realize he’s not talking to me.

“Yes, master,” Muffin whimpers.

Now Torenze turns to me. “Get over here and suck this cock.”

The second I’m down on my knees, he starts whipping me as well. He’s not nearly as gentle as I was with his slave, and I know he’s leaving marks with every lash. The next few weeks will be miserable. I struggle to keep up the rhythm on Muffin’s cock, cursing myself when I falter and his erection droops.

The next few lashes wrap around to my chest and stomach, and I refocus on the rhythm I had established, relieved to bring the boy back up. I want to keep going, but I’m stopped again, handed a bottle of water and ordered to drink. I comply, unable to stop myself from watching as Torenze rams himself into his slave ruthlessly. He pulls out before either of them finish.

“Muffin, keep yourself hard,” he orders, smirking at me as he says it. “And you. Beg me to suck my cock, Trash-Boy.”

If he thinks he’s going to break me with a little ass-to-mouth, he’s got another thing coming. It’s not my favorite thing, but I’ve done much worse. I beg him, half-convincingly, until he “lets” me suck his cock. I nearly choke as he rams down my throat and comes, holding me there unable to do anything but swallow.

“Now get up and beat that boy until he comes,” he growls.

I resume my task, despite Muffin pleading for me not to. I’ve never been in this position before; it’s harder to follow orders to hurt someone else. I realize with a shock that I’d rather be in his place.

A few more minutes pass. We’re getting nowhere, although Muffin is getting hysterical.

“Make him come and I’ll let you use the bathroom,” Torenze teases.

Fucker. I had been trying to ignore it, but the second he makes the offer, I want to. I want to so badly. Four bottles of water suddenly make their presence known.

The desperation brings out an ugly side of me, one where I’m hitting harder and even yelling at the poor boy, who’s sobbing at this point. I don’t stop until I break skin. The sight of blood nearly makes me throw up. And Muffin is still frustratingly hard and not-coming.

“Problem, Trash-Boy?” Torenze asks, laughing. “I see you’ve made some progress.”

“Is he trained to respond to pain at all, sir?” I ask, realizing my mistake might have been trying at all.

Torenze laughs. “No, not a bit. But I bet if you keep going, he’ll get there eventually.”

I seethe. “Is there another option, sir?”

Torenze laughs, evil and terrible sounding. “Oh, yes! It’s simple. You give him, say, twenty more, as hard as that last one, no harder, don’t want him all scarred up like you, or you can stop now, and I’ll give you the beating I’ve longed to give you since I first saw you acting haughty at that slave auction. Oh, and if the boy comes, you get the bathroom.”

I can hear Muffin begging me not to do it. I can also feel the pressure in my bladder increasing. I want to be the bigger, braver person here, but I’m not. Muffin begs his master as well.

I stay silent, but turn and began to lash at the other slave, feeling my resolve crumble as he pleads with me.

The twenty lashes fall and he does not come. I am defeated, and Torenze’s laughter in the background confirms it. I stand there, uncertain.

“Now, you take his place!” Torenze orders me, a delighted look on his face.

“But you said—”

I’m cut off by another backhand as I stupidly try to contradict him.

“You were going to be whipped anyway, boy, I just wanted to see if you were stupid enough to hurt this boy even more before you did!”

The realization that I’ve been had hurts worse than the bite of the whip will. Torenze grabs me by the hair and drags me to the whipping post, where he glances casually at his slave.

“You may come now, Muffin.”

The boy comes instantly, sobbing as he does.

“I forgot to mention,” Torenze whispers in my ear. “Muffin only comes when I tell him to. Such a wonderful feature.”

I beat the boy for no reason. I’ve never been this complicit in someone else’s abuse.

I’m numb as Torenze beats me senseless, drawing drops of blood, but nothing to void the agreement he has with my master.

Finally, it’s over, and he pushes another bottle of water at me. Muffin must have retrieved it while I was being beaten. I drink, knowing fully well that I’ve had far too much already. My bladder makes its demands known.

“Let’s go to the bathroom, shall we?” Torenze asks, suddenly sounding inviting. I want it bad.

I’ve never seen a more inviting toilet. He makes Muffin beg to use it, and when he’s satisfied, orders him to go, right there in front of us. I envy him.

“Now, Trash-Boy,” Torenze considers me. “What would you do to earn that privilege?”

Pretty damn much anything, at the moment. “Whatever you wish, sir,” I reply honestly for once.

“Dance for me.”

I dance. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I dance.

Torenze laughs. “That was entertaining,” he admits.

I look hopefully at the toilet.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “Stupid whore. That’s not good enough.”

Fuck him.

“Fill up this bottle with water and drink it.”

I sigh, filling the bottle in the sink and drinking it obediently.

Torenze looks at me, curious, then at his slave. “Muffin, you think Trash-Boy deserves to drink from the sink?”

“No, master.”

Torenze looks back at me, pointedly. “Where does trash drink from?”

“Probably the toilet,” I mutter, clenching my jaw.

Torenze makes a clucking noise with his tongue. “What a pity you have such an attitude, Trash-Boy, I was about to let you use the toilet.”

I curse myself for my stupidity as my chance is ripped away.

“Now you will drink from it.”

I glare at him. “Should I lick it out or use the bottle, sir?”

He cuffs me and I fall to the floor, still glaring. He fills up a bottle of water from the bowl of the toilet and shoves it in my face. When I reach up to grab for it, he smacks my hand away and motions for his slave to come over.

“Pinch his nose and hold his mouth around the bottle,” Torenze orders his slave. “He will continue to drink until I finish fucking him. He can breathe when you refill it from the toilet.”

I start to panic as I realize just what this entails, and suddenly I’m begging, incoherent, pleading that I will do anything, fuck or suck or drink or piss anywhere. It’s useless.

Within seconds, I’m faced with the option of drowning or drinking the water in front of me, so I gulp quickly, the pain in my stomach compounded by the rapid fucking that Torenze is subjecting me to. The slightest reprieve comes when I finish the bottle of water and Muffin refills it, allowing me to breathe until he returns. I can see the slightest indication of apology in his eyes as, but mostly I see pity. I realize what I’ve been reduced to. I force the muscles in my ass to cooperate with the fucking, and I’ve never been happier to feel someone come inside of me.

Six bottles of water slosh around inside my stomach.

Torenze stands up calmly. He takes Muffin by the arm and leads him to the bathtub, ordering him to lie down on his back.

I make a break for the toilet, throwing up before Torenze can stop me. I need to piss, but throwing up seems so much more important. As it is, I’m throwing up nothing but water.

“Get in the shower!” he barks, and I step in, awkwardly placing my feet to either side of Muffin, who is lying on the floor in tears. He grabs my hands and ties them above my head, hooking them to a bar at the top of the shower. “You have one hour. If you need to urinate, feel free. But neither of you moves an inch.”

He slaps me a few more times for good measure, and I realize the new predicament he’s placed me in. I can piss, if I piss on this poor boy.

The next hour is excruciating. I writhe and squirm, wishing I wouldn’t hate myself so much. The other slave, who whispers to me that his real name is Mark, even tells me it’s okay, but it’s not. I’m better than this, I can’t bring myself to do this to another person. My bladder aches and so do my wrists and shoulders by the time Torenze returns.

“Such a strong boy,” he laughs, slapping my ass and making me stumble, stepping on Mark and making him gasp. “Let’s see how strong you really are.”

He punches me in the stomach, repeatedly, in the bladder and kidneys. I start to cry as I feel the warmth start to dribble down my leg, and I fight it. After what seems like forever with this torture, he grabs my hair, jerking my head back as I still try to beg him.

“Still so stubborn, aren’t you?” he hisses. “We’ll see about that.”

He leaves, returning a second later with an assortment of dildos. Perhaps he’s finally grown tired of fucking me. He shoves a large one into my mouth, and I do my best to lube it up with my own saliva.

I still scream when he puts it in me.

Years of training don’t go to waste, and I feel my cock hardening. Torenze laughs, cruelly, and motions for Mark to get on his knees. It’s worse, somehow, thinking of him as “Mark” instead of “Muffin.” He follows his master’s orders and starts sucking my cock.