Skin Fuck Part 13-17

by Batardsm

Skin Fuck 13

He had no idea how long he had been in the stinking pit. No idea what day it was. All he knew was that in his hellish life, it was always night time. Always dark behind the two hoods pressing in on his head. The only thing that told him he was still alive was the pain. The periodic cramp in his limbs caused by every part of his body being encased in very tight and inescapable bondage. Also the pain in his jaw from being kept open by the piss gag and the pain in his arse from the hard metal pole keeping his sphincter wide apart.

He had stayed quiet to begin with. He did not struggle. He thought he could take it. But when his Master did not return he started to get worried. There was nothing in his world just darkness.

After the quiet period came the raging. He swung his body wildly on the chains, tried to scream as much as the piss gag would allow him. He was cursing his Master, calling him every name under the sun. But he did not come. This only made matters worse as some of the vile liquid surrounding him was disturbed by his movements and the stink in the pit just got worse. Some of the liquid even got inside the piss gag and into his mouth. He had no choice but to swallow it.

Then came the sobbing. He could not help it. The tears flowed inside the rubber hoods.

But this was no use either. He was alone in his pigsty for as long as his Master wanted to keep him there or even keep him alive. Fighting was futile. Once he accepted that he was no longer in control of anything in his life, not even pissing and shitting, or eating, he felt better. There was nothing he could do but wait for his Master. Once that had penetrated his thick skinhead brain his life became easier.

After a while he did not know what was real and what was fantasy. Some very horny and depraved ideas and scenes would pass through his mind but he never knew whether or not they were real or just imagined. Of course he had no way of knowing whether or not the food his Master was giving him through the tube in his nose was laced with any drugs or not.

One memory kept on recurring. He had woken up and he was not in the pit anymore. He was outside it but not free. He was still in the straightjacket and was hanging from chains in the ceiling of the garage. His legs were no longer in their rubber constraints but they were also chained. They were pulled painfully apart and chained to opposite walls of the garage. His arse was empty.

His Master was standing off to the left dressed in a black rubber apron over his skinhead gear. He was pulling thick shoulder length back rubber gloves over his bulging arms. The muscles of his forearms pushed against the rubber and could be seen clearly.

After pulling on both gloves his Master pulled a large plastic oil drum across the floor towards his slave. The top of the oil drum had been cut off and from his elevated position his slave could see that it was full of black oil. The oil looked used and had bits floating in it.

"Time you really open up that cunt of yours pig. See whether I get both arms in it."

He tried to scream through the thick penis gag in his mouth and struggle against his restraints. He had only ever been fucked before. He had never been fisted. He knew his Master's arms were big. Even one of them would rip him apart.

"Shut the fuck up cunt. You ain't going anywhere. So just sit back and think of England." His Master laughed as he plunged one hand into the oil drum and started to spread the oil all over the other hand and arm.

It was pointless for him to try and struggle because with his legs spread-eagled to opposite walls his arsehole hung vulnerably in the air, just waiting for his Master's fingers. His sphincter clenched uncontrollably, as if it knew about the impending assault on it.

Once he had fully greased up both gloves with the dirty engine oil his Master moved towards his victim. The first finger wasn't too bad as it forced its way past the sphincter. Although his Master pushed it in forcibly it was quite pleasurable. Good to have some of his Master back in him again. He moaned as his Master pushed his finger in and out.

"Fucking whore."

Then came the second finger. After some initial discomfort it felt good again, opening him up slowly. Then came a third and again wasn't too bad although his sphincter felt really stretched. But even that stretched feeling felt so good.

He struggled and tried to lift himself up off his Master's hand as the fourth finger tried to force its way in up his arse. But gravity was against him and he had no choice but to come back down onto the four fingers. His arse was now on fire. He was breathing heavily and sweat started to break on his face.

He was shaking his head vigorously from side to side and moaning "no" through the gag. But he knew it would be ignored. Slowly but determinedly his Master started pushing his whole hand up the skinhead's arse.

He could feel this huge mass just pushing further and further into him. It was not going to stop until it was inside his arse cavity. It was agony. He knew something would have to give. He pushed out his sphincter as much as he could. To open himself up as much as he could so that his Master could make it inside him.

The sweat was pouring down his face and inside the rubber straightjacket. Finally something gave and the rubbered fist pushed into his arse cavity. As it slid into place he screamed into his gag.

It took a while for him to catch his breathing again and to realise the pain had subsided and that the fullness in his arse felt good. His Master started to push his fist backwards and forwards in his arse, fucking him with his fist. It was ecstasy. His mind was flying as the fist pushed against his prostate. He had never felt anything like it before. It was amazing. He did not know how long this heaven went on for but it felt so good.

But then he was brought to with a bump when his Master started to plunge a finger from his other hand into his slave's hole in addition to the fist. Then came two and then.

By the time his Master's third finger and fist was up his arse, he had thankfully passed out. But his Master did not stop until both fists were in his slave's arse and the floor beneath was bloody.

Skin Fuck 14

When he came to, he was back in the pit. Covered head to toe in rubber and unable to move a muscle. His arse felt torn and the pain coming from it was unbelievable, as if somebody was pushing a thousand needles into his anal sphincter all at once. His insides felt strange, very stretched with a dull ache spreading its heat throughout his guts. It was only the pain that told him that he had not imagined his Master's fisting session. The pain told him that the sight of his Master's rubber covered fist and forearm smeared in engine oil before it was thrust in his arse had been no trick of the mind. It had been real.

Now his arse felt empty, a gaping hole, which was desperate to be filled by his Master's fist and forearm. That felt more natural than this emptiness. But he had no control over that. That was a matter for his Master. Just like he had no control over when he pissed, shat or ate. Only his Master had control over these even basic matters. His Master controlled whether he lived or died in the stinking cesspool that was his home.

Over time his mind drifted again and again in the darkness behind the two rubber hoods that covered and squeezed his skull. His thoughts whirled in his head. Sometimes he could see "outside" the hoods, could see clearly things happening before his eyes as if he was seeing through the two thick layers of rubber. He was never sure whether he was dreaming or whether these things really happened to him.

One of them was when his Master thrashed him beyond pain to a world where his body no longer existed. His mind was freed from his body and somehow floated above it looking down on the torn and bleeding flesh of his own back and arse, looking at the pitiful body hanging limply in its chains.

The same body that shivered when he first saw the instruments which his Master would use to turn his back and arse into a bloody mess. Was it the cold as his master hoisted his manacled hands above his head? Was it because he was completely naked and vulnerable? His whole body was available for his Master to abuse, his legs spread apart and secured to a spreader bar. He could move his legs backwards and forwards with some difficulty. He did not understand why they had not been tied down to or secured to the floor. He would find out in due course. Or was it just fear?

His Master shoved the large penis gag into his mouth, opening up his jaw painfully. He nearly gagged as the hard rubber penis pushed at the back of his throat. No sound came out as it was stopped by the huge gag. He would not even be able to scream as the pain got worse and worse. He could only scream in his own head.

There were three instruments on the floor at his feet: a leather strap, a large wooden paddle with holes drilled out of it and a large rubber flogger. There was a fourth instrument but it was not on the floor. That is what his Master used first.

He knew nothing of it until his Master's large hand had came careening down on his right arse cheek. He jumped forward with the shock and pain and tried to scream out loud. But the last was strangled in his throat by the large gag.

"Don't you fucking move your arse cunt. Shove your fucking arse back in the air so I can get at it easily."

He now knew why his Master had left his feet relatively free. He wanted him to have the freedom to move them but have to have the discipline not to move them because that is what his Master wanted. The right cheek of his arse was on fire again as his Master's hand came down hard on it.

It took a lot for him not to recoil a second time from the onslaught. By the time his Master had reached ten strokes on his right cheek he wanted it to stop. He thought he couldn't take anymore already and he knew that this was only the beginning. His right arse cheek stung so much. This contrasted sharply with his left cheek, which felt cold. But this did not last for very long. Ten strokes of his Master's palm now landed on his left cheek. He wanted so much to move his arse away from the source of the pain, to try and escape somehow but he knew better. He knew that things would only get worse for him if he did. This was what his Master wanted and so he must just obey him and give into the pain. He squirmed but he did not move his arse away from his Master's hard hand.

His mind was exploding by the time his Master had reached around one hundred strokes on each arse. His whole arse now hurt. Every bit of it. He could see bright lights in his eyes as his Master's hand mercilessly rammed against the red cheeks of his arse and the pain cut quickly across the whole of both cheeks. Tiny explosions in his head. Some of them so intense that he momentarily forgot about the thwack of the hand that followed. But by the hand after that he was back in the pit of pain.

Then his Master stopped momentarily. And his arse just "hummed" with the pain. It throbbed in an angry red mass of bruised flesh. He would not be able to bear anything touching his arse for days let alone sit down. But then he did not sit these days, he only hung in his pit. But he would never be able to bear the tight rubber pulling in and rubbing against his severely bruised arse.

But there was far worse to come. His Master's hand had only been the first of four courses of pain, each course being more painful than the last.

Skin Fuck 15

His arse was still humming with the heat from the hand beating, when the first stroke of the leather strap came down on his left shoulder blade. It made two cracking sounds. One as the two bits of leather of the strap hit each other, a split second before the sound of hard leather on soft skin. But all thought of the sound was quickly replaced by the searing pain across his shoulder. The dull pain of his swelling arse was relegated to a distant second place.

Down the strap came again and again, each stroke placed in roughly the same spot as the previous one. The bastard knew what he was doing. His aim was very true. Probably a skill honed by practising on the backs of a number of wretched slaves before him. Each time the strap came down the pain was worse than the previous time.

He was screaming in his head by the time the strap had reached its fiftieth stroke. He could not scream out loud because the large penis gag suffocated it in his throat. In his head the sound of his own screaming was so loud as to drown out the sound of the leather strap tearing at his back.

Then something very strange happened. The screaming stopped and the pain subsided. It did not disappear. It was still there but an edge had been taken off it. He could still hear the strap on his back and it sounded as heavy but the pain was not as great.

In fact the pain was good. It felt good to be hurt. He could not understand it. Something had changed in him. The pain did not feel just like pain anymore but some strange mixture of pain and something he could not put his finger on.

The stinking filthy garage which he was strung up in faded and became a blur around him. All that seemed important now was the leather strap searing into his back. He just concentrated on the leather pummelling his skin and muscle. His whole mind just focused on that. He willed the leather to hit him harder, to create more pain and devastation. He hungered for the constant thwacking of the leather on skin. He could not understand what was going on. His body now wanted the pain. Welcomed it. The pain had become central to his existence. He just let himself go, completely giving into the pain. He wallowed in it in this bottomless and relentless pit of pain.

Then it stopped. Why? His mind screamed. I want more. I need more. Please give me some more.

He started to come to. The world around him came back into focus: the oil slick on the dirty concrete floor, the chains pulling his arms wide apart and the pool of piss on the floor between his legs.

"Filthy fucking cunt. Pissed yourself," his Master laughed.

He could not remember pissing. But then he could not remember crying either. But he could now feel the salty tears on his cheeks drying. In those moments of oblivion there had been nothing else in his world other than the leather strap and the pain it caused on his back. Everything else had been blocked out. Did not exist. His Master stepped round to his front and picked up the wooden paddle. He enjoyed the sight of his strong Master. His large thighs pushed against his tight bleacher jeans and the black well polished doc martin boots. His cock became rock hard again. He was this beautiful man's slave to do with as he wished.

His Master's wish at this moment in time was to turn his arse into a bloody pulp. There was no ecstasy this time as the wood came into brutal contact with the already red and bruised cheeks of his arse. Just pain. Immediate and unbearable pain. Every time the wooden paddle hit flesh it was as if his whole arse was on fire and a lightening bolt of pain shot up his spine to explode in his head. He could not stand it. He could not give into it. It was so brutal. As the paddle left the skin of his arse it was as if it was pulling the skin away with, no not just skin, but lumps of flesh with it, tearing the flesh away from his body.

His arse cheeks were now very swollen and large pockets of blood appeared beneath the surface. Small round pockets of blood corresponding to the holes in the paddle. Again and again the pain just exploded in his head without relenting. His Master had no care for the mess he was making of his slave's arse. All he wanted was for his slave to suffer, to be in unbelievable pain.

And he was succeeding. Some relief came when the pressure became too much for his skin to hold any longer and the pockets of blood began to burst. Their contents ran down his legs in small red streams. But still his Master did not stop. The sound of the paddle on his arse was no longer a hard thump of wood on skin but a far softer squelch of wood on torn and bloody flesh.

Then came the rubber flogger on his back to tear at his muscular well built frame, turning it also into a bloody mess of tissue. He had been flogged before but with a leather rather than a rubber flogger. The tails of the rubber flogger were far heavier and harder on the skin and muscle, creating more damage per stroke.

Unlike with the paddle, he started to get hypnotised with the constant pain on each shoulder in turn. He started to melt again under the mesmerising sound of the rubber tails on his back going back and forth between his left and right shoulders. He again welcomed the pain. It took him in its arms, embracing him, taking him away from the sordid surroundings. He gave into it, even yearned for the pain, for the fire on his back. Again and again the flogger fell, its stroke and pain constant. Something to hold on to.

They did not stop like the other instruments. They fell continuously, until he was no longer hanging in the chains but staring down at a pathetic lump of broken flesh collapsed and defeated, held up by two chains attached to bare concrete blocked walls. A pool of congealing blood was collecting on the floor beneath it from the free flowing rivers carved in his back and buttocks. The lacerations would heal in due course to leave fine white scars that would betray his status. But one thing that would never heal would be longing for that oblivion. The oblivion that could only be found on the other side of extreme pain.

Skin Fuck 16

When he came to, he was lying face down on a large plank of wood a few feet off the ground. His hands were fitted with rubber mitts and clenched into fists. Each fist being tightly secured above his head to two rings in the wood. Similarly his feet were secured wide apart to rings in the other end of the wood. His Master must have carried his beaten and bleeding body to the plank after he had released the chains from the wall and the slave had fallen in a sodden heap on the garage floor.

As he became more aware, he could feel the fire in his back and buttocks. He could also feel the rivets of blood from the open lacerations running down his sides to pool on the wood. The pain got worse and worse the more that time went on and the more he came to his senses.

He then felt his Master's rough hand on his shaven scalp. He must have been standing on the other side of the wood away from where he was looking. "Well done scum. You did well, perhaps you're not such a useless cunt after all."

Pardon? He couldn't believe it. His Master was being kind to him. He had actually earnt his Master's praise. Tears started to well up in his eyes and roll down his cheeks to mix with the blood stains. He began to sob uncontrollably, letting all the certainty and self-loathing out, relieving himself of years of hatred. He had done well for his Master, had been good enough to earn his praise. All the shit that had occurred in his life until now was suddenly irrelevant. He was worthy after all.

As he sobbed his Master started to wipe down his slave's back and buttocks with an antiseptic cloth. It burnt viciously to start with but after a while it had a soothing effect. He sobbed even more through his gritted teeth knowing that for once his Master was caring for him. His Master was good enough to give his slave the pain he deserved but was also good enough to make sure that his slave's health would not suffer.

A rubber hood was pulled over his tear stained head, blocking out the light and the cool garage air. It pulled roughly at his face as his Master laced it up tightly at the back. Once done, a plastic tube was pushed through the mouth hole in the hood. He thought it was some kind of gag, but it wasn't. It didn't stay in his mouth but was pushed further in--pushed back towards the back of his mouth towards his throat and the further still down his throat until it reached his stomach. He tried to retch and get rid of it but he should have known better by now. There was no relenting; it kept on going until it reached where his Master wanted it to go. It felt awkward and alien as it held his mouth and throat open. But it was through this tube that he was to receive his food for the next few days and weeks.

Three times a day his Master would pour the mashed up mess down the tube. He could not taste any of it but could only feel his stomach expanding as it filled. At the same time his Master would clear away any shit that had collected around his arse and the bucket full of piss underneath the plank where his slave's dick poked through. He would also smear more balm on his slave's back and buttocks.

Slowly day by day the open wounds started to crust over and finally close, to leave him with a criss-cross pattern of scar tissue that he would wear with pride for the rest of his life.

One day after the wounds had healed, as per usual his Master fed him through the tube and cleaned away the shit from his arse, but this time he also inserted a large plug up his arse and tied it in place with a rope harness around his slave's middle. Even if the slave tried to push out the plug, which of course he would not do because his Master had placed it there and therefore to push it out would be to defy his Master's will, he couldn't. By the following morning, the slave was desperate to get the plug out of his arse. During the night his normal digestive movements had pushed shit down towards the plug and was now building up painfully behind it. He needed to crap desperately. He whimpered to himself as best he could with a plastic tube down his throat.

A few hours later, he felt his Master releasing his hands and his feet from the wood. As he moved his limbs the blood came rushing back into them and he felt pins and needles running up and down his arms and legs. But at least he was able to move. A complete luxury for him. But his freedom was not to last for long.

His Master lifted him off the wood and onto the floor. His Master's arms held him tight as he got to his knees. He knew his position in life. On the floor at his Master's feet. The large muscular arms felt good around his naked body. His dick started to fill with blood and he left a strange lusting in his balls.

His Master grabbed his balls roughly and stretched them to the bottom of their sack. He groaned at the pain but it was muffled again by the plastic tube. Just as he thought that he would pass out from the pain or that his balls would burst under the pressure, his Master pulled on a long leather ball stretcher, and strapped it in place. He then finished the agonising attachment by snapping the ball separator strap in place. The pain was now a constant dull pain in the pit of his slave's stomach. His balls were then attached to a metal ring attached to the concrete floor. Similarly his legs were kicked apart and attached to other metal rings. And finally his hands were cuffed behind his back. His taste of freedom had been very brief indeed.

"It's time to make you my pig, scum." What did his Master mean by that? His slave mumbled "Yes sir" through the tube although he did not know what he was consenting to. But of course there was no real consent, he had given up his right to object to anything a long time ago. He was just scum for his Master to do with as he wanted.

Slowly his Master pulled the tube out of his stomach. The slave nearly puked as the end of the tube came up to the back of his throat, but he managed to control his gag reflex; he knew that he would be in trouble if he retched all over the garage floor. His Master then removed the hood as well. To begin with the slave could not see anything, but gradually his eyes became accustomed to the light again. He looked at the filthy garage floor. He knew better than to look anywhere else. The floor was covered in a mixture of oil, mud, blood and shit. Some of it was probably the slave's blood, the slave's shit.

He could also see his Master's feet and legs in front of him. The feet were in some form of black waders. They, like the floor, were covered in filth. Probably the same heady mixture. He was also wearing a thick black rubber apron. Again it was also covered in filth.

Around his neck his Master fixed a thick posture collar. This forced his head up into an uncomfortable position. The collar was then attached by chains to two rings in the floor and to a hook in the roof. His neck was now so secured that he could not move his head or neck at all. As a result he was now staring directly at his Master's crotch. He could see the outline of his large thick cock through the thick rubber pointing down his Master's left leg. He salivated at the thought of having that manly cock in his mouth--having its head bang against the back of his throat, as he fought against the gag reflex to swallow more and more of it down his throat to give his Master as much pleasure as he could. It would not be long before he got his wish.

His Master moved around to his arse and released the cord holding the butt plug in place. The butt plug was then pulled out of his arse with one pull. There was no consideration given to the pain that caused the slave as his sphincter muscle was made to stretch quickly over the thickest part of the plug. He groaned and held his breath.

His arse was not empty for long as his Master thrust his large cock up it in one go, again with no consideration for the pain caused to his slave and without any lube. The slave bit his lip as his sphincter was stretched and as his body was pushed forward against the chains, pulling at the collar and making it harder for him to breathe. After the first thrust there was no let up. The first thrust set the tempo for the rest of the brutal raping of the slave's arse.

But this fucking was different to the other fucking that the slave had taken before from his Master. It felt as if his Master's dick was bigger. Reaching further into his guts. Spreading his guts further apart. Opening him up further and further inside him. It was incredible. The feeling of invasion was beyond belief. Yes the dick punishing his prostrate with every stroke was driving him wild. But more than that it was as if the dick was growing bigger and travelling further with each stroke.

Then the slave remembered the plug and the fact that he had not been able to vacate his bowels since the day before. He now realised that for the first time in his life he was being shit fucked. The Master's dick was fucking his filled hole, pushing the shit further up his hole, making the shit an extension of his Master's dick. It was incredible. His brain was exploding in a thousand different chemical reactions. He could not think straight. All his sensations were concentrated in his arse and hole. Nothing else existed. His Master's thrusting quickened and then stopped as his Master's spunk squirted up his slave's aching hole.

When he had stopped panting and his brain had stopped exploding, his Master was standing in front of his face. There staring him in the face was his Master's cock, standing erect through a hole in the rubber apron. He could see its thickness and throbbing veins down its long length. But there was now something different about the dick from the last time the slave saw it. It was now covered in the contents of the slave's arse. The dick was covered in thick brown streaks down its whole length, covered in the slave's arse juices and more. The Master's cum was also mixed in with the shit.

Suddenly the putrid smell hit the back of his throat. He coughed involuntarily.

"Time for me to make you my pig, scum."

Skin Fuck 17

He couldn't believe it. His Master wanted him to suck his shit covered cock, like some sub-human pig. He knew that some people were into scat, but he had always thought that they were the lowest of the low and had always thought himself better than them. But now his Master wanted to debase him and reduce him to their level. To the level of a pig.

He struggled against the chains. He knew it was futile. He couldn't move any part of his body. Especially his head, the posture collar made sure of that. Chained as it was to the floor and the ceiling meant that there was nowhere for him to go. Nowhere for him to look other than the shit stained dick. But he knew he must try. He could not allow his Master to take this last level of self-worth away from him without a struggle. Little did he know that the Master had far more debasing things planned for him. More debasing than he had ever imagined. There were a number of levels for him to descend through yet before reaching the bottom of the sewer where such creatures as him belonged.

"Struggle if you want you useless cunt, you ain't going anywhere."

The next thing he knew was a blinding pain across the right side of his face as his Master punched him. Then on the left and again on the right. The blows just kept on coming and at one point his nose started bleeding. He started to cry. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't because of the pain. He had taken much worse in the past from his Master but more the disappointment of having to be forced to do something to please his Master instead of giving himself up voluntarily to his Master's wishes. He lowered his eyes in shame. And opened his mouth wide.

"That's better cunt. But got something for you just in case you change your mind halfway through."

His Master produced a clothes peg which he put over his slave's nose closing the nostrils and forcing him to keep his mouth open if he wanted to breathe. He also produced a metal o ring with leather straps attached. He forced the o-ring behind his slave's front teeth and buckled the leather straps behind his head. Now his slave could do nothing but keep his mouth open in an inviting o-shape. A perfect shape for his Master's cock.

"Ready now cunt?" His Master smiled cruelly. He would enjoy this. He would enjoy the reducing of his slave to a lower stage, where he never expected to go...the enjoyment of seeing the disgust and fear in his eyes.

He knew what would happen. He could do nothing about it. He just had to wait as his Master moved slowly forward. As the shit covered cock got closer to his mouth he could smell its retched putrid smell through his mouth, since his nose was no longer free. Every breath he took he could smell it more. His Master rested the tip of his dick on his slave's lips and kept it there. The slow and deliberate actions of his Master were hell. Raping his slave's throat in one lunge would have been far more bearable. This inch by inch torture was far worse, and he of course knew that.

"Stick your tongue out scum and start licking my cock end clean of your filthy arse juice."

He expected his slave to actively debase himself for his Master. Passivity was not enough. He needed to accept that he needed this debasement and to do it willingly.

The stench of his Master's cock was now more powerful than ever as its cock head sat on his lips. It disgusted him but now also somehow he accepted that it was going to happen. That it was going to be a part of his life.

Slowly he pushed his tongue forward to meet his Master's cock head. Then it touched the brown slime covering the head. He pulled back immediately.

"I said clean it scum."

He pushed his tongue out again and started to pass his tongue slowly over the cock head. The shit felt rough on his tongue like pieces of gravel. It tasted bitter and burnt. He had to struggle not retch. But he controlled his stomach muscles like he had been taught in the past. He pulled his tongue back into his mouth to wash the slime off it. Now he really tasted the shit and it was foul. And the smell was also in his head now worse than ever.

He forced himself to swallow the filth down into his stomach and again forced himself to push out his tongue to wipe clean the cock head once more. Again he found it hard to swallow but the taste was not so bad.

His Master pushed his cock an inch further into his mouth pushing more filth onto his tongue. Again his stomach spasmed but he controlled it. He started to wrap his tongue around the shaft slowly wiping off the arse filth and spunk carefully from it. He worked faster now, wanting to get it over as soon as possible but something stopped him from doing that. He began to feel very horny, as if somebody had flicked a switch in his head. He slowed down again and started making love to his Master's cock. Making love to shit covering it. It was only his own shit after all. It belonged in him. His Master sensed the change and smiled.

He pushed the remainder of his cock into his slave's mouth and let him make love to the remainder. The shit now tasted good as it was diluted with his own saliva. It no longer felt alien in his mouth. It tasted bitter no more.

Once the dick was clean his Master started to face fuck his slave. Slowly at first, but then quicker and quicker. Without mercy he forced his cock down his slave's throat. His slave instinctively opened his throat as much as he could to receive his Master's cock, his own cock by now standing out from his body proudly. Further and further the cock went down the open throat and faster and faster, until his Master emptied his balls directly into his slave's stomach.

His slave did not even taste the spunk until his Master withdrew his cock to rest his cock head on his tongue and he cleaned the remainder from it.

His Master smiled knowing that this was only the first stage in the making of his pig. There was far more to come. By the end of the process his slave would no longer consider himself a part of the human race anymore.