Chosen to Suffer

I got the call late Tuesday night. The voice on the line was deep and resonant. He introduced himself as Dale, a friend of Kevin's. If you had a chance to read my “Water Rat” series, you know all about Kevin. I had sworn him off like a bad habit, a lust far too dangerous to be sated. It was an amazing summer, and Kevin had used my aching body at least once a week for several warm, intense months. He got off humiliating me... tying me up, slapping me around, penetrating me in every way he could conjure. Hurting me a bit, but never so badly that I didn’t come crawling back for more. My last trip to his hidden cove was so severe that I promised myself I wouldn’t set foot on the damned island again.

“I hear wonderful things about you from our mutual friend, Kevin.” He continued, “I have some similar interests in common with him. I wonder if you would want to discuss a little arrangement for this weekend?”

Was he asking me out? Or was he asking me if I wanted to be beaten and bound and fucked silly? Either way, my interest was peeked as I listened to Dale’s deep baritone humming through the phone.

“I have a little social club, really just a group of friends. Kev is one of the many friends who will be my guest at the Lake this weekend. I really want it to be special, so I’m arranging for some entertainment for the boys.”

Ahh, obviously not a date. I was about to politely hang up, despite the stirring I felt in my crotch at the thought of entertaining a room full of Kevins.

“I want you to give me your bank account number. I will have one thousand dollars deposited in the account by this afternoon. In return, I want you ready and waiting for my car to pick you up on Friday night at 5:00 sharp.”

My stomach was churning; my head spun at the thought of what he seemed to be proposing. Unfortunately, I had grown to love the feeling of being out of control, at the mercy of another man. Kevin had taught me well. I had become his bitch, a whore for pain and degradation. Despite my incredible urge to hang up, to run for my life, I began to seriously consider Dale’s suggestion. I thought of Kevin, and the feeling of the straps. I longed for his rough hands on my throat, his hairy chest pressed against my nipple clamps as he slid his cock between my reddened ass cheeks. So Kevin and Dale had interests in common, huh?

“I can be very generous. If you are everything that Kev says you are, I can make your life very comfortable. At least most of the time, anyway!” He chuckled. “There will of course be times when your comfort is the last thing I’ll be concerned with!”

I understood. My option was clear: take the money, then take the abuse. Dale never threatened me directly, but I would be a fool if I misunderstood his words. I thought about the rent, due next week. I had lost my job the end of August, and my savings were gone. The Bank account was overdrawn already. A thousand bucks would sure fill it up again! I gave Dale the number, and hung up.

Friday night rolled around before I could even think about what I had committed to. The thousand was already spent on rent, food and the electric company. I saved enough to get a haircut that afternoon and I looked good. I wondered if the men at the Lake would think so. The black Cadillac Escalade pulled up in front of my building precisely at five and a man in a dark suit jumped out and opened the back door. He took my gym bag from me and tossed it in the back. I was surprised and a little relieved to find I was not alone. There were three other guys already sitting in the warm, leather upholstered interior. A couple of them looked dazed and a little nervous. I guess I probably looked the same. One was about my size, pale complexion and blonde hair. The second kid was latin, very petite, with a fabulous compact body and dark smoldering eyes. The last was a very large black man. He was the only one who seemed cool, and he smirked at us in a knowing way. I got the feeling that the big man had done this before. He sat in the gloomy light, rubbing his enormous bulge through the faded denim jeans stretched around his mighty thighs. The rest of us smiled weakly at each other in silence, as the big car cruised across the bridge towards LaGuardia Airport.

The trip in the small unmarked private jet was fast and uneventful. We had introduced ourselves, but there was no chit-chat. The boys and I were far too apprehensive, and the big bull of a black man seemed indifferent to us. He had slept the entire flight, only waking as we taxied into the small regional airport terminal. We followed the bull a few yards across the tarmac and into another waiting car. I had no idea where we were, or even what state. It was still very cold, so I assumed it was probably north of New York, possibly Michigan or even Canada.

The limo sped off into the chilly night, and finally pulled into a gravel drive marked with two brick columns and an iron gate that swung open as we approached. The initials above the gate read D.L., obviously Dale’s monogram. As we rounded a curve in the road I saw the house perched on the edge of a glass surfaced lake, shimmering in the arctic moonlight. Built of stone, it looked medieval, like a fortress or castle against the darkened sky. A man greeted us at the front entrance. I knew it was Dale, somehow I felt it had to be. He was tall, about six-five, and stood imposingly in the warm glow of the doorway. He wore only loose fitting pajama bottoms, and his muscular chest glistened in the light. He was probably about forty, and his blonde hair was peppered with gray. The hair on his chest and abs shone like spun gold. A young boy crouched at Dale’s feet, his ankles in leg irons and a choke chain around his neck. Dale held firmly on the leather leash, as the boy clung to his master’s leg. My cock swelled and strained against my fly despite my fears. He was God-like, and I knew immediately that I would do whatever he demanded of me. 

Once inside the house, we were ushered down a stairway and into a large dressing room. The boy at Dale’s feet did not join us. Apparently he was Dale’s personal bitch, and would not be joining in the evening’s festivities. The big man didn’t join us in the room, either. He had gone into another room a little further down the corridor. Dale checked the three of us out, and nodded approvingly. He especially liked the Latin kid, touching his cheek and grabbing his ass as we mustered for inspection.

“All right, boys. You will all do, just fine! You will strip completely and wait here until that door opens. You will then crawl into the next room with your heads down and your faces hidden. Is that understood?” He said, in his hypnotically sexy voice.

We nodded in unison. I was getting so turned on by being treated like fucking cattle, like meat at a market. My fear was leaving me, as I anticipated what wonders waited on the other side of the door. Kevin had transformed me into a pig. I thrived on humiliation, lived to service a dominant master. This would be the ultimate experience, and I silently thanked Kevin for recommending me. The blonde guy started to whimper, shivering in the corner as we undressed. I thought, his crying will probably make him very popular! He will be a very special victim tonight. The door soon swung open, and we dropped to our knees. It was Showtime!

We crawled forward, one at a time through the doorway. The men hooted and whistled as we emerged from the dressing room. We were told to keep our heads down, but judging by the sound of the mob, there were probably at least thirty guys in the playroom. I could only see the boots of the men as they crowded around our naked, crouching bodies. The place stank of sweat and beer, and the unmistakable smell of semen. The floor was sticky and slick with cum.

“Down!” A man straddled me, pushing my chest into the slimy floor as he grabbed my arms and fastened leather straps around each wrist. “Now, get up, you stinking piece of fairy shit!” 

I pulled myself to my knees and saw the room for the first time. It was very large, high ceilings and skylights. There were huge glass panels across one wall, with incredible views of the placid lake. I expected it to be more dungeon-like, instead it was actually a magnificent space. In the center of the room, under a huge crystal chandelier, was a large platform with several wooden structures. My tormentor fastened another leather strap around my neck and pulled me to the center of the platform. I saw my pathetic companions being dragged off to similar platforms in the room. The anticipation was building, the crowd gathered around me and shouted encouragement to the beast that controlled me. I looked at him.
He was not attractive, not by any stretch of the imagination, although he oozed sex through every pore. He was massive, with a great barrel chest and legs that looked like tree trunks. His shaved head and craggy face were covered in wiry black stubble, and as he turned to face me I saw his cock: large and semi-erect, bobbing over two large cum-filled balls. He pulled me into a fuck bench. I was strapped face down with my ass in the air, my wrists clipped onto a cross board, and my head placed into a stockade. My legs were roughly pulled up and my ankles strapped against the sides of the bench. I screamed, which sent the crowd over the edge, whooping and calling for my punishment to begin.

The cute Spanish kid had been dragged onto a marble slab. His master was not a gentle man. I could see the kid getting slapped around, mostly with open hands, sometimes with closed fist. The man wrapped the kid with duct-tape, firmly securing him into a fetal position, then to the slick cool stone surface like a kneeling mummy. His ass was the only part of his body not covered in silver tape. It looked like a big soft peach, ready for picking. 

The blonde guy was the cutest of the three of us, his silky white skin like velvet, a spray of freckles across his shoulders. His body was thinner than mine, almost feminine. His nipples were large and pink, and stood out against his milky chest. His cock was smaller than mine, but perfectly shaped, like a delicate and fragile orchid held between his legs. I could see he was still sobbing as two very hairy gorillas pulled him against a cross, tying him firmly at the wrists and shoulders. The cross was pulled upright, and leaned against the far wall. He looked angelic in the diffused light from the skylights, like a religious postcard.