Wednesday, 19 October 2011

The Hole

I felt some relief when the sun disappeared over the horizon and I was no longer being battered by its rays, still hot even though it was evening. I wondered at first if the hole I was instructed to dig was to be another form of torture that been devised by my Master. The size I had been told to mark out and the depth to which he wanted it dug could easily have been one of those pits that the prisoner is partly buried in and then tormented for as long as the Master wants. But he seemed to be in no hurry to advance those plans. Instead he stood by and watched me as I got increasingly exhausted. Sweat ran into my eyes and stung but I dared not stop to wipe my face, I saw the single tailed whip in his gloved hands and knew instinctively what I would get if I did. It was bad enough trying to lift that heavy clay caked shovel over the rim of the hole, that was now deep enough to hide my knees, with hands that showed blistering skin without the need to have my back scored with a whip that could lacerate with one lash. I could see both his black leather boots, boots that I had polished earlier that day, as well as the whip hand every time I threw yet another shovelful over the rim of the hole.
At last I could do no more. I was running with perspiration, my legs felt like lead and my arms had just given up the struggle. I simply could do no more. I waited for the whip to strike but he calmly called me to the side of the hole to where he was standing . There on the grass was a set of the most horny looking irons and chains I had ever laid eyes on. They looked savage. He pulled me forward, I struggled out of the hole and he fastened the collar on me. Cold, hard and a massive weight for my neck I could have no doubt that it was going to be a part of a painful plan for the evenings entertainment. He then wrapped a chain round me and I was soon fastened tightly into manacles and fetters all of which weighed a ton. It was with a mixture of eroticism and dread that, with difficulty, I hobbled behind him into the house.
The cool of the house swept over my damp body and made me shiver. He opened the door of the cellar. My gut lurched as I imagined what he was going to do to me. Sometimes I am really ready for the sexual frisson that a session of torture brings especially as Sir often finishes it with extreme love making which leaves us both satisfied and exhausted but now I was already about to drop and could not contemplate more physical exercise  without the chance of disappointing him. The irons were biting into my neck, wrists and ankles, surely he wasn't going to force me into a worse position. As these suspicions flew around my head I felt my cock swell giving away my inner thoughts to my Master who I was sure had already spotted the increasing bulge in my tight leather shorts.
It was with a smile that he pushed me backwards into the steel cage. It prevented any movement as it squeezed me in a hard metal embrace pressing the chain links into my body and making it difficult to breathe easily. But then he simply turned and  left. I was in total darkness, the only sound was his boots on the stone steps and, at the top, the heavy door excluding anything more. I closed my eyes and waited for what, I didn't quite know.

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