by: Inbetween
(this story is, obviously, a (extreme) fantasy)
The first thing I notice as I come down the stairs, is the smell: a heady mixture of poppers, smoke, stale piss, and somewhere, faint but definitely present, shit. The second thing I notice is - holy fuck - this is a real dungeon. Like the ones you usually only read about in porn stories. Brick walls, a vaulted ceiling, thick metal rings everywhere, and a bunch of shelves, neatly organised, filled with all kinds of dildos, whips, canes and other instruments of torture. He’s grinning at me while I’m taking it all in, and hands me a black plastic bag.
“Strip, and put everything in here.” It sounds like a suggestion, but something about him makes me do it without hesitation. While here, he is in absolute command. By the time I’m finished, he’s retrieved some stuff from the back.
“Kneel. Legs open”.
He puts the bowl between my knees, and this time, the smell is neither faint, nor easy to mistake: dogshit. A big pile of turds fills the bowl, and as the rank stench reaches my nostrils, my cock gets rock hard.
“Good.”
He hands me a strip of coarse sandpaper, and lights a cigarette.
“Wank”.
It hurts, but fuck, I AM horny.
“Open your mouth, and keep it that way”.
He flicks hot ashes on my tongue, and it feels as if my cock got even harder between the folds of sandpaper. I won’t be walking much at home after this anytime soon.
As the smell of dogshit and smoke takes over my senses, he spits in my mouth, and puts his cigarette out on my tongue. It makes an unheard sizzling sound, as I moan loudly, and big spurts of cum - the result of not jerking off for a week - add a white layer over the brown one in the bowl.
“Swallow.”
With difficulty, I swallow the cigarette stub.
He peels the sandpaper from my raw, red cock, which quickly reverts to its limp state, speckled with tiny droplets of blood.
“Good.” He sounds calm. “Now we can begin.”
——
My toes are barely grazing the floor, my legs spread wide by means of a steel bar attached to the ankle cuffs. My wrists are attached to one of the many ceiling rings. He is walking about, but I can’t see him - an eyeless hood makes sure of that. My limp dick is dangling between my legs, the damaged skin sensitive to every bit of air that passes over it.
——
My toes are barely grazing the floor, my legs spread wide by means of a steel bar attached to the ankle cuffs. My wrists are attached to one of the many ceiling rings. He is walking about, but I can’t see him - an eyeless hood makes sure of that. My limp dick is dangling between my legs, the damaged skin sensitive to every bit of air that passes over it.
“Open your mouth.”
There it is again, that voice. He is standing right in front of me.
As I obey, he pushes something in my mouth. It’s some kind of soft fabric, probably a sock. It tastes rank. He pushes more of it in my mouth, and it gets uncomfortable. There’s a ripping sound, and the sock if put firmly into place with duct tape. That’s when it hits me. This sock is filled with shit, and the taste starts to ooze through the fabric. After I cam, all my horniness left me, and I’m revolted by it. I moan in protest, and in response, he squeezes my balls.
“Shut up. I’m only starting”. He lets go of my balls, and I feel him walking away.
The first lash comes by surprise. It hits my buttocks hard, and if I wasn’t gagged, I would’ve screamed. Then he just keeps going. He whips my back and ass and legs in a relentless rhythm. It must look like I’m dancing the tarantella while my skin reddens and welts appear. As sudden as it started, it stops. I’m sweating and trembling, and now the pain has dissipated, my brain focuses again on what’s in my mouth. I’m overwhelmed by the taste of the turd in my mouth. I’m shaking from head to toe, and I want to cry out to let me go, but only a muffled sound comes out.
The first lash comes by surprise. It hits my buttocks hard, and if I wasn’t gagged, I would’ve screamed. Then he just keeps going. He whips my back and ass and legs in a relentless rhythm. It must look like I’m dancing the tarantella while my skin reddens and welts appear. As sudden as it started, it stops. I’m sweating and trembling, and now the pain has dissipated, my brain focuses again on what’s in my mouth. I’m overwhelmed by the taste of the turd in my mouth. I’m shaking from head to toe, and I want to cry out to let me go, but only a muffled sound comes out.
Then the whip again. The front this time. He starts with my chest, and works his way slowly down this time. I know he’s building up the tension, working towards my already sore cock. When he gets there, it’s more painful than I imagined. It feels like the skin will come off. I’m screaming my lungs out. It hurts hurts hurts hurts.
——
I’m lying on the cold stone floor. I’m breathing hard. He rips the tape off my mouth, and pulls the slimy mess that the shitfilled sock has turned into out. It doesn’t take the foul taste with it.
“Sit up. Break time.”
With difficulty, I clamber into an upright position. I still can’t see a thing, but I hear the distinct click of a lighter, and soon cigarette smoke is blown into my face. He doesn’t have to tell me this time, and I open my mouth.
——
When I’m reattached to the ceiling, he doesn’t bother with a sock anymore. He stuffs a half-dried turd in my mouth, and before I can fully register the taste, the duct tape is back on. Instead of the whip though, he grabs my balls again. Squeezes. Hard. And suddenly, a stinging sensation, as tiny needles are pressed on my sack. A parachute. And now I know what’s coming. The first weight he attaches pushes the pins deeper in my skin, and I moan. This time he slaps me in the face. More weights are added to my balls, and soon the pain is torturous. He leaves me standing there for a while until suddenly, a feel a cold, wet sensation caressing my asshole. It makes me jump a little, and the swinging of the weights this causes hurts like fuck. Without much preamble, he shoves the plug up my ass. Another kind of pain, but after that, it’s mostly uncomfortable. A whooshing sound announces his next step. He begins softly, almost caressing my skin with the cane, but soon he steps up the speed and force with which he hits me. If I wasn’t marked from the whip before, I will sure bear the signs of his sadistic tendencies after this. He must be dancing around me, alternately hitting my front and back, this time a hit landing on my ass, the next on my chest. The weights are swinging heavily now, causing a lot of pain. Each time he hits my dick, I feel a little more blood trickling down. And just as before, suddenly it stops.
——
The floor again. The coolness feels good against my tender skin. He took the parachute and weights off, but left the plug in place. I hear the clink of metal on the floor, and as he rips the tape off my mouth for a second time het tells me to empty my mouth in the bowl.
He takes the hood off, and I look into his face. He’s grinning. “Having fun?” He doesn’t expect an answer.
——
When I’m reattached to the ceiling, he doesn’t bother with a sock anymore. He stuffs a half-dried turd in my mouth, and before I can fully register the taste, the duct tape is back on. Instead of the whip though, he grabs my balls again. Squeezes. Hard. And suddenly, a stinging sensation, as tiny needles are pressed on my sack. A parachute. And now I know what’s coming. The first weight he attaches pushes the pins deeper in my skin, and I moan. This time he slaps me in the face. More weights are added to my balls, and soon the pain is torturous. He leaves me standing there for a while until suddenly, a feel a cold, wet sensation caressing my asshole. It makes me jump a little, and the swinging of the weights this causes hurts like fuck. Without much preamble, he shoves the plug up my ass. Another kind of pain, but after that, it’s mostly uncomfortable. A whooshing sound announces his next step. He begins softly, almost caressing my skin with the cane, but soon he steps up the speed and force with which he hits me. If I wasn’t marked from the whip before, I will sure bear the signs of his sadistic tendencies after this. He must be dancing around me, alternately hitting my front and back, this time a hit landing on my ass, the next on my chest. The weights are swinging heavily now, causing a lot of pain. Each time he hits my dick, I feel a little more blood trickling down. And just as before, suddenly it stops.
——
The floor again. The coolness feels good against my tender skin. He took the parachute and weights off, but left the plug in place. I hear the clink of metal on the floor, and as he rips the tape off my mouth for a second time het tells me to empty my mouth in the bowl.
He takes the hood off, and I look into his face. He’s grinning. “Having fun?” He doesn’t expect an answer.
“‘Cause I am.”
——
I’m lying on a thin mattress, covered by with a thin blanket. Meagre comforts, but after what he put me through, it felt like a feather bed.
——
I’m lying on a thin mattress, covered by with a thin blanket. Meagre comforts, but after what he put me through, it felt like a feather bed.
A wet sensation wakes me. I open my eyes, and he’s standing over me, his thick cock hanging out of his fly, a stream of piss hitting me in the face.
“Open.”
The taste is strong, and, lying down, I can’t swallow much. He doesn’t care. There’s a cigarette again, and that grin. When the stream stops, he flicks the butt in my mouth.
“You will follow me”.
I try and stand up, and, quick as lightning, he grabs my balls.
“You will crawl.”
——-
There a rim chair in the middle of the dungeon now. It was once white, but now is covered in dried shitstains. He doesn’t have to tell me. I crawl towards it, and go lie in position. He drops his trousers, and sits down. The tip of his cock is on my chin, and I inhale his smell. Ripe, musky. There’s sweat there, and a lack of hygiene betrays itself by the stains around his ring.
——-
There a rim chair in the middle of the dungeon now. It was once white, but now is covered in dried shitstains. He doesn’t have to tell me. I crawl towards it, and go lie in position. He drops his trousers, and sits down. The tip of his cock is on my chin, and I inhale his smell. Ripe, musky. There’s sweat there, and a lack of hygiene betrays itself by the stains around his ring.
“Lick.”
I start eating his ass, and I’m savouring the taste. I really love eating ass, always have. I’m slobbering all around his asshole, getting really into it, and I even feel my cock getting hard again.
“Stop. Open your mouth”.
I lay back, waiting. He lights another cigarette, and then starts pushing. A drizzle of piss escapes his cock, and drips down my neck, as a fat turd starts coming out. Before I know it, it fills my mouth, and it keeps coming. By the time he’s finished, a big pile of his shit lies atop my face. That’s when he chooses to lean forward and stub out his cigarette on my semi-erect cock. The scream is muffled by his shit filling my mouth. He pushes the butt into his warm turd, stands up, and looks me straight in the eye.
“Chew.”
After the rank old turds he’s used to gag me, this doesn’t taste as bad, but it’s still foul, and a far bigger quantity than I’m used to. He must’ve saved this up for a couple of days.
“Start swallowing.”
He squeezes my balls, softly first, then harder, as I eat his load.
When I swallow the last bit, he lets go, but immediately surprises me be yanking out the plug, and puts it in my mouth. My shit tastes different than his.
I don’t know where he kept it, but within seconds, he’s pushing a second, bigger plug up my ass.
“Ready for the big finale?”
——-
When we talked online before meeting, he told me to buy a second hand blender, and bring it along. I’d told him my fantasies, so I knew why. I’m on a simple wooden chair, with my ankles tied to the back legs, and my arms around the back. I can move a bit, but not much. The plug is pushing on my insides, and my tender junk is displayed on the seat. I’m not hooded this time - I guess he wants me to see, and dread, what is coming. The blender is right in front of me, its cord snaking away into the dark. Next to it is the bowl filled with dogshit, my cum, and the shit I was allowed to spit out. On the other side are three half liter bottles, each filled with a clear yellowish fluid. I think I can guess what’s in it. He comes at me, and puts a suction cup on each of my nipples. Of course, he hasn’t given those any attention yet. His planning really is impeccable. He adjusts the suction just so that my nipples are stretched taut, then wiggles them a bit - just to hear me whimper. He walks away from my field of vision, and then he’s at my back, attaching a gag with a tube and a funnel to my head. My heart is racing. Then he just goes to stand next to the blender, and lights another cigarette. Slowly smoking, he watches me. When he’s finished, he stubs the cig out in an overflowing ashtray, which he then empties into the bowl. “Are you ready?” I’m scared. I’m fucking scared, so I vigorously shake my head.
——-
When we talked online before meeting, he told me to buy a second hand blender, and bring it along. I’d told him my fantasies, so I knew why. I’m on a simple wooden chair, with my ankles tied to the back legs, and my arms around the back. I can move a bit, but not much. The plug is pushing on my insides, and my tender junk is displayed on the seat. I’m not hooded this time - I guess he wants me to see, and dread, what is coming. The blender is right in front of me, its cord snaking away into the dark. Next to it is the bowl filled with dogshit, my cum, and the shit I was allowed to spit out. On the other side are three half liter bottles, each filled with a clear yellowish fluid. I think I can guess what’s in it. He comes at me, and puts a suction cup on each of my nipples. Of course, he hasn’t given those any attention yet. His planning really is impeccable. He adjusts the suction just so that my nipples are stretched taut, then wiggles them a bit - just to hear me whimper. He walks away from my field of vision, and then he’s at my back, attaching a gag with a tube and a funnel to my head. My heart is racing. Then he just goes to stand next to the blender, and lights another cigarette. Slowly smoking, he watches me. When he’s finished, he stubs the cig out in an overflowing ashtray, which he then empties into the bowl. “Are you ready?” I’m scared. I’m fucking scared, so I vigorously shake my head.
“Tough.”
With a spatula, he mixes the shit and ashes and buts (and my cum) together, and puts a big dollop into the blender. He takes the first bottle of piss and says “Last week”, and adds it to the mixture. The blenders whirls, turning everything into a brown slurry. He opens the lid, and walks towards me. Without any ceremony, he empties the entire blender into the funnel, which was obviously designed for this: the contents fit perfectly, and by the time the goo reaches my tongue, the blender is empty. In a reflex, I use my tongue to plug the hole. He knows, and grins.
“Don’t worry. Take your time. But you will swallow.”
He walks to the back, and when he returns, he’s playing with the suction cups again. I moan, and a gulp of the mixture enters my mouth. It is foul, it is rank, it is disgusting. And he looks me in the eye again, and while he removes the cups, I swallow my first big gulp.
“Good. Again.”
And then there’s a sharp pain, and unwillingly, I take another gulp, and then another. He’s driven a thick needle through my swollen nipple. I just start swallowing now, hoping he won’t have time for a second. Foolish of course, and the searing pain is back, and it feels like my nipples are on fire. But then the funnel is empty. He’s not grinning now, he’s just smiling, like he’s proud of me or something.
“A good start.”
Of course. Two more bottles to go. This time, the amount of shit and ashtray content is much bigger, about a third from what’s left in the bowl.
With a spatula, he mixes the shit and ashes and buts (and my cum) together, and puts a big dollop into the blender. He takes the first bottle of piss and says “Last week”, and adds it to the mixture. The blenders whirls, turning everything into a brown slurry. He opens the lid, and walks towards me. Without any ceremony, he empties the entire blender into the funnel, which was obviously designed for this: the contents fit perfectly, and by the time the goo reaches my tongue, the blender is empty. In a reflex, I use my tongue to plug the hole. He knows, and grins.
“Don’t worry. Take your time. But you will swallow.”
He walks to the back, and when he returns, he’s playing with the suction cups again. I moan, and a gulp of the mixture enters my mouth. It is foul, it is rank, it is disgusting. And he looks me in the eye again, and while he removes the cups, I swallow my first big gulp.
“Good. Again.”
And then there’s a sharp pain, and unwillingly, I take another gulp, and then another. He’s driven a thick needle through my swollen nipple. I just start swallowing now, hoping he won’t have time for a second. Foolish of course, and the searing pain is back, and it feels like my nipples are on fire. But then the funnel is empty. He’s not grinning now, he’s just smiling, like he’s proud of me or something.
“A good start.”
Of course. Two more bottles to go. This time, the amount of shit and ashtray content is much bigger, about a third from what’s left in the bowl.
He takes the next bottle and says “Last month”, before starting the process over.
The taste is worse, and I try to take it in in sips, so he won’t have as much torture time this round.
He doesn’t care.
He’s kneeling beside the chair, and out of the corner of my eye I see a hammer, and then there’s the pain again. My sack, already bruised from the parachute and the weights, is being nailed to the chair. I swallow as fast as I can manage, but it is so much more foul this time.
By the time I’ve finished, six nails are holding my sack in place. I feel disgusting, and I’m afraid of what he will do next.
One more bottle.
Now the entire contents of the bowl go in, and with the remaining bottle he says “Three months”.
The glint of the hammer again, and this time the pain is insane, as he hammers a thick nail through my cockhead. I swallow as fast as I can manage, tears streaming down my face. He stands up, and shows me two more nails.
“Guess where?”
That’s when I swallow the last mouthful. I’m nauseous, I’m in pain, and I’m crying, but I did it. He puts the nails down, nods slowly and removes the gag.
By the time I’ve finished, six nails are holding my sack in place. I feel disgusting, and I’m afraid of what he will do next.
One more bottle.
Now the entire contents of the bowl go in, and with the remaining bottle he says “Three months”.
The grin is back when he stares me in the eye as he pours the now very thick mixture into the funnel. I’m ready to heave, but I try to hold it back, the faster this is over, the better.
The glint of the hammer again, and this time the pain is insane, as he hammers a thick nail through my cockhead. I swallow as fast as I can manage, tears streaming down my face. He stands up, and shows me two more nails.
“Guess where?”
That’s when I swallow the last mouthful. I’m nauseous, I’m in pain, and I’m crying, but I did it. He puts the nails down, nods slowly and removes the gag.
“Time for your reward.”
——-
My genitals are still bleeding when he throws me on the thin mattress.
——-
My genitals are still bleeding when he throws me on the thin mattress.
“Ass up.”
With another yank, he pulls the plug out of my ass, and soon replaces it with his thick, throbbing cock. The plug prepared me, and it doesn’t hurt as much as it normally would.
He pushes my face down and lights another cigarette as he starts pounding my ass, flicking the ashes in my face, steadily increasing his rhythm, until I feel him tensing up and grunting, loudly.
And as he empties his balls deep in me, I suddenly feel happy. A miserable mound of abused flesh, barely human, and I feel happy.