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Invitation, Part 6
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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| Invitation, Part 6 |
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| By Gary Ringenwald |
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| You can copy this and send it along to others or post it anywhere as long |
| as this appears unaltered |
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I lay somewhat limp, as does my cock. I begin to feel nervous, and my
stomach tightens up a bit. As I hear you downstairs with the others, my mind
starts to race as to what you could be doing. My cock begins to sping to life
again, wanting to be touched and stroked by another. Then you come upstairs.
I watch as all four of you head into the kitchen. I can hear them
getting their coats and you come out. As each one passes me they pat me on the
head. When Master Kevin walks by, he stares at me a moment. Our eyes lock for
a brief instant and I turn away, trying not to give away my secret.
He says, "You were a good slave today boy."
I relax inside a bit. Then he grabs my chin and pulls my head as to
look into my eyes. He lets out a brief smile, and pats my cheeck. At least my
erection is fooling them.
When they are gone, you set me about more chores.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Supper rolls around and I sit patiently next to you on the floor. My
plate is empty, and all I have is a glass of water. After you finish you let
me drink.
When I place the glass on the floor, I feel your hand grab a generous
amount of my hair, and pull my head back. I am looking into your eyes and I
can see dissapointment and anger behind them. I want to turn away from the
dark look in you, but your hand holds firmly and quite painfully.
"Only one fucking day and you already have transgressed a rule!!"
"Wha..." I say.
"SHUT UP!!!" you scream. My heart pounds and fear fills my being. I
close my eyes but you yell "LOOK AT ME." I re-establish eye contact, and I can
tell you can see my fear. "Master Kevin is no fool and neither am I. You
jerked off after you were left up here alone didn't you?" A small silence.
"DIDN'T YOU?!"
"Y y y yesss.." I say with a stricken voice.
You yank me to my feet and pull me downstairs by my arm. You chain me
to the wall, my back exposed. I hear you take something out of the drawer. You
then push a whip in front of my face and say, "This is your punishment. You are
going to recieve 25 lashes. You are to count off each one as it strikes.
Missing a count will ad three more each time. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," I say with a soft, trembling voice.
"Understand?" you say louder.
"YES SIR!"
Immediately I feel a pain across my back. "One sir," I say. Another.
"Two Sir, <slap> Three sir, <slap> Four Sir, <slap> Five sir." Each new pain
I recieve seems to accentuate the last. at 21 I loose count due to the piercing
sensation that clings to my back.
"What number was that?"
"Uhh, 22 sir," I say. My body hangs limp, my head droops froward and
reats on the wall. I speak in short gasps as I try to wait out the pain. Each
beat of my heart sends a throb of regret to my nerves.
"We'll go to 28 now."
"<slap> 21 sir..., <slap> 22 Sir..." at 23 I can only attempt to say
"sir", instead it comes out sounding like ss-hhh. A few more then "<slap> 28
ss-hh...." I collapse. I can feel the wet pain of your whip along my back.
It now feels like one symphony of pain playing it's tune along my exposed skin.
I hear you say something, but it sounds distant. I swim along inside my own
world of pain in a state of (euphoria?) pure existance. I don't know it, but
my body is crying. I can feel you unchain me while holding me gently with one
hand. It seems not of me, like I am outside my body. You rest me on the floor
and I feel a cold gel on my back. It sooths and cools the heat and pain of the
whip. Even though your hands invoke pain, the caress of gentle comfort settles
into me.
I feel my body being lifted by you. My arms hang over your shoulders,
my legs wraped loosely around you waist, and my head resting on you chest. I
can vaguely hear your heart, and I fall asleep before we reach the stairs.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next week is routine, we wake, sometimes I service you, we eat, I
set about my chores, I greet you when you get home, punishment is handed out as
needed, we sleep. The only sex I have is the pleasure of sucking you. As part
of my punishment, I am not allowed to touch my cock, and when you go out or are
away from me, you lock my sex in metal.
When the middle of the next week arrives, you have something special
planned for me.
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Part 6
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