Fuck Boy - Chapter Four
NOTES: It's been a while, I know, sorry! Do drop me an email if you like what you read - or if you have any suggestions - your messages will almost certainly motivate me into getting on with the next instalment quicker! And don't forget to donate something to Nifty if you can. Email josharmstrong2007@gmail.com.
Fuck Boy lay in his puddle of piss, squashed inside that rough metal bath tub, kept in darkness by its makeshift wooden lid, for one hour and twenty minutes. It was ten to six by the time I let him out.
As I lifted the lid the smell of the piss was incredibly strong, though the smell of the boy's sweat was present too; it had got very warm and stuffy in there. He immediately turned his head towards me, though you could tell it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the sudden influx of light. I'd shut the curtains and turned on all eight of the strong spotlights that line the ceiling of my play room.
"Why the fuck aren't you asleep?" I snapped. He couldn't speak of course, not with his piss soaked boxers still in his mouth. But he pulled a suitably confused face.
"I told you to get a nap, you useless fuck. That's another 20 ball-flicks. And don't you dare go complaining when you get tired later. Right, stand up". I pulled on his hair - so clean and bouncy six hours ago - now a sodden sticky mess, soaked right through in piss and sweat - but a little drier on the side of his face not actually lying in the piss pool.
I resisted the temptation to help him stand, and instead just kept pulling on his hair until he sorted himself out. I figured the pain of the hair pulling would help distract him from the dull ache that he'd now feel right across his body. It took a minute or so for him to properly stand up, his hands being tied behind his back not helping, though to his credit he managed it in the end, and the boxers remained in his mouth and his all important left hand finger up his ass hole throughout. He looked terrible.
Those of you out there trying to empathise with poor little Fuck Boy would have to work pretty hard to replicate just how the pathetic cock-sucker will have felt at that very moment.
I'd suggest drinking a litre or two of water, waiting an hour, and then stripping to your boxers, sitting in a bath with the plug hole plugged, and pissing yourself, letting the piss soak right through your shorts until a nice piss puddle surrounds your body. Then lie in your waste for twenty minutes, with the middle finger of your left hand deep inside your ass throughout, obviously. Dare you? When you're done stand up and spend a few minutes giving some serious thought to what it is you just did. I'd enjoy seeing some pictures of that, that's for sure.
Though even then, you'd probably only be 10% of the way to where Fuck Boy found himself just six hours after we had first met. I wonder if your cock would be hard after performing that little routine? Fuck Boy's little dick wasn't. It had shrivelled back into a tiny lump.
I'd kept busy while Fuck Boy enjoyed his piss pool nap. For starters I drank two pints of water and another bottle or beer. That piss puddle would surely need topping up soon, so I needed a nice full bladder.
On two occasions I'd returned to the play room. I made plenty of noise, so that Fuck Boy might have thought he was about to be released. I enjoyed imagining the disappointment on his face when all went quiet again instead. On the first visit I just shut the curtains and turned on the lights. But the second time I attached a chain to each of the four hooks I've got set up in the middle of the room, two in the ceiling and two in the floor. Hopefully the sound of clanking metal added to Fuck Boy's fear. And rightly so.
I also took a shit during those eighty minutes. There are two bathrooms in my apartment, the ensuite for me, and a small shower room near the front door that I reserve for the subs. Sometimes I let them do their business in that room, but generally I use it to torment them. I frequently piss in the shower tray, shit in the toilet, and shave in the sink, and occasionally take a proper shower in there if I'm particularly filthy. But I never clean it and rarely flush the toilet either. The walls and surfaces of that little room are kept filthy for the next time a sub's tongue is in the vicinity.
Fuck Boy would tongue clean that shower tray, sink and toilet bowl for the first time later that night, and I wanted a big shit to be floating in the latter while he did it. I didn't expect him to eat it. He'd taste my shit tomorrow, I was still certain of that, but full on shit eating would take a few weeks to introduce. But just the presence of some shit as he licked the toilet bowl clean would be enough to step the fear up a few levels.
Of course for this to work there couldn't be any toilet paper in the bowl, so I used the second pair of Fuck Boy's clean boxers to wipe my ass. Such forward thinking and preparation on my part, and yet the ungrateful fuck so rarely thanked me. I put the shitty boxers into his rucksack with his library book, and left his bag near the piss tub in which he lay.
"Display yourself properly then", I snapped. After Fuck Boy had stood up, I'd untied his wrists and pulled the boxers out of his mouth, dropping the piss soaked rope and shorts into his rucksack with the shitty pants and spunky book. There was quite a selection of goodies in there now.
Already learning some basic obedience, the fucker quickly repositioned himself, legs apart and bent, tongue out, right hand behind his head, the left hand remained on his ass, the middle finger up his hole. Stale piss slowly dribbled down his body.
"OK, let's do these flicks shall we?"
"Es errr" he replied.
"You count".
I crouched down and flicked his increasingly tender balls, hard.
"Hon... ease her, ease hick hai halls harher".
See, he's learning fast. I suspect the challenge of saying "please sir, please flick my balls harder" with his tongue stuck out helped take his mind off this latest attack on his little boy balls. So I flicked extra hard to compensate. Well, he was asking me to flick harder! Even if he did sound ridiculous. I gave him 25 flicks in total. Twenty for failing to nap, five for talking in such a stupid way.
"Right" I said, once the flicking was done, "let's sort out this filthy body of yours". I stood up and reached over to one of the side shelves, where I kept a razor and some scissors. I placed both on the floor next to the old bath tub.
"A fuckboy should never have any hair below the neck" I said, in a matter of fact way. "It might be confused for a proper man, even with its pathetic excuse of a dick hanging miserably between its legs ". I crouched down as I spoke and gave his cock a firm flick as I said the word "dick". It had gone semi hard during the ball flicking - perhaps reflecting Fuck Boy's confused state, did he hate having his balls flicked, or did he secretly love it? I then took the scissors and began cutting at his pubes. He'd got an ample bush, though, being damp in piss, it wasn't quite so impressive. And after a minute with the scissors, most of it was gone, floating in the piss puddle below.
"Right, time to taste that finger" I said, standing up. The middle finger of his left hand had been safely encased in his sweaty ass for quite some time by this point. Last time it had been in there just a few minutes. This time it would taste really rank.
I even let myself have a glimpse of the finger, once I'd yanked it out of his tight asshole, and before I pushed his arm around his body so his ass finger moved up towards his nose. He'd sniff it this time too. Actually, I suspected it would smell worse than it tasted, so by smelling it first, the sucking would be more intense.
There wasn't any actual shit on the finger, but there was definitely a brownish stain - essence of shit mixed with copious amounts of ass sweat. Perfect. Technically making him lick this probably breached the 'no shit' agreement - but then it wasn't my fault if he didn't keep it clean down there was it? If fuck boys don't wash and wipe properly, they end up licking shitty fingers and the skid marks in their shitty pants, that's just life. Anyway, as we know, he'd be begging to taste shit by this time tomorrow, so what did it matter?
"Sniff" I said, having directed his ass finger to just underneath his nose. With his tongue already sticking out, he could probably already taste it, even without the finger actually touching. He sniffed a slight sniff and retched slightly. "Sniff it properly, you useless fuck. Inhale deeply". This time he inhaled more deeply - and the retching was more notable as a result. "And again". Another deep sniff, but only a slight retch this time.
"OK, now to taste it". As I spoke, I pushed the boys finger down so that it touched his tongue, then moved it back and forth a few times. He retched again, but his tongue remained where it was meant to be. I pushed the ass finger into his mouth, "OK, pull your tongue in, and suck on that finger like the little fuck boy you are" I ordered, politely. He obeyed.
I knocked his right hand, which had remained behind his head throughout, downwards. "OK, using your right hand, I want you to finish the job - every bit of hair from the neck down is to go. You've got ten minutes. Any hairs left, and that will be more faults added to your score. Too many, and there'll be some more ball flicks too. You can use the scissors, you can use the razor, and if you want some water, use the piss that's left in the tub. You can relax your knees, but that ass finger stays in your mouth throughout. You understand?" He nodded and said "ehssss eerrrr", confirming his comprehension as best he could with the pungent ass finger still in his mouth.
And with that I left him to it. Well, I went into the living room next door and watched him via the cameras. Sometimes doing something this humiliating is worse for the sub if he's on his own - because without a master directly ensuring the humiliating task is completed, it all seems so pointless.
It was certainly entertaining watching the little fuck perform his shaving task. It was his face that provided most of my amusement. During the ten minutes he spent running that razor over the various parts of his body that had sprouted some hair over recent years, the expression on his face kept switching, most likely as a series of different thoughts went through his mind.
First, there was the pained look. He wasn't used to shaving his pubes for starters, and as the razor - which wasn't the sharpest or the smoothest - first made contact with his skin down there, it definitely caused some not inconsiderable discomfort. The boy tried dipping the razor into what remained of the piss puddle, but that wouldn't help much, not least because it would be cold by now.
And utilising this puddle of piss, created by both our bladders and cocks an hour or so earlier, just emphasised how degrading this task was. And that created the sheepish look, the embarrassed face. Our combined piss was already dripping down his body, and yet here he was wiping even more of it onto his pathetic skin. Not only that, he was using it to help remove all the body hair from his person. Pubes and pit hair are the thing that truly separates boys from men. And here he was removing it all from his body. Exposing him to be the fuck boy he really was.
Then there was the concentrated face, with a hint of confusion. He hadn't realised it at first, but this was actually a very tricky task. Actually, it was ultimately an impossible task. With only one hand available, he couldn't shave the pit of the arm doing the shaving, he couldn't pull tight his ball sac to remove the few hairs on there, and he couldn't part his ass cheeks to reach the inside of his crack. And while he didn't have a hairy ass by any means, it wasn't totally smooth around his tight smelly hole.
You could see his little fuck boy brain trying to work out how to overcome these challenges, a thought process that led to my favourite face of all. A return to a look of fear. The fear that came with realising that however hard he tried, the result of this assignment was going to be more faults on the board, and yet more flicks to his balls.
Plus of course, the cherry on the fuck boy cake, at least twice he clearly pulled a face of utter disgust. Something suddenly reminding him of the filthy taste in his mouth from the ass finger still rubbing on his tongue. Thank God for the cameras, I'd definitely be watching this again a few times.
"Right, that's enough" I said loudly, storming into the playroom after ten minutes and walking straight over the kitchen bin, still near the window. I yanked out his hooded top, now decorated with a little food waste. "Dry yourself down with this, and you can use both hands now". I threw the top at the boy. He quickly complied, seemingly not aware that he was rubbing stale food juices into his body as he dried away the piss and hairs off his person, nor that he was soaking stale piss into the top he'd have to wear home tomorrow evening.
"OK, put the top on the floor and stand here. Legs wide apart and put your hands high above your head. I need to get you secured for a body inspection".
I'd pointed to the centre of the room, in the middle of the chains I'd put in place earlier. I quickly attached his wrists and ankles to the metal cuffs at the end of each chain.
They were pretty shorts chains, and the hooks were pretty far apart, so the boy had to stretch a little further than he'd have liked to fit into his bondage. And he'd have to maintain that position once secured, otherwise his wrists and ankles would start pulling on the cuffs, and these were metal cuffs with no padding, and that wouldn't be pleasant. I didn't intend to keep him bound like this for very long this time. But he didn't know that. And, assuming we became regular playmates, he might spend hours in this position in the future; constantly having to choose between further stretching his aching muscles or putting more pressure on his pained ankles and wrists.
Though in that first moment of bondage, it was more about mental torture than physical: imagine the thoughts in his tiny fuck boy brain as he realised he was now totally secured, locked in this position until I decided otherwise, and with his most private and sensitive body parts more exposed than ever. Yet another great facial expression - pain, fear and just a tiny bit of lust flickering in his eyes.
As his mind processed all this, I let my hands move across his body, in quite a gentle way, focusing in particular on those areas of his physique that had needed shaving. I ended in the pit where, despite some gallant efforts, circumstance had resulted in very little hair being removed.
"So, how do you think you did?" I asked, pulling on the remaining hairs in his right pit. He knew what I meant, and that he'd failed.
"Please sir, I tried sir, but I couldn't..." He faltered.
"I'm pretty sure I said to remove every hair beneath the neck. Are you claiming these" - I tugged again on his pit hairs - "aren't beneath the neck?" Actually, with his arms stretched out high and wide as they were right now, they almost weren't. But he didn't think of that!
"No sir" he squeaked, trying to hide the pain in his pit. "But I couldn't..." He faltered again.
"Couldn't what? Couldn't be bothered to do the job properly?"
He remained silent.
"OK, fifty faults for disobedience for starters I think"
"Yes sir, thank you sir".
"And five ball flicks for every remaining hair".
"Yes sir, thank you sir". I don't think he'd done the maths.
"OK" I said, briefly moving to another one of my shelves to get a piece of paper and some tweezers. "Let's count the hairs shall we".
No response, just a look of confusion.
I placed the tweezers over his left nipple and squeezed tightly.
"I said lets count the hairs shall we?"
"Yes sir, please count the hairs sir"
I released the tweezers from his nipple, and dragged them across his chest down to his pubic region. The sexy little treasure trail that had run from his navel and most of the amble bush that had surrounded his cock had now gone; though I'd cut much of that away remember, so he didn't deserve too much credit here. Though, to be fair, he was now pretty smooth down there. A few hairs remained at the base on his cock, however, and his ball sack had a few hairs on it too, his one-handed shaving meaning he'd been unable to tighten the skin there to enable a smooth shave.
"Let's start here".
With my left hand I pushed his now fully hard dick down out of the way (as far as it would go, he winced a little), while with my right hand I placed the tweezers over a pube. Twisting the tweezers around to ensure grip, I then pulled the hair sharply. The pube resisted the pulling for a few seconds, resulting in a short sharp gasp from the fuck boy, then a little squeak, before the hair slipped out.
"One" I said, placing the hair onto the sheet of paper, now on the floor beneath the fuck boy. I attached the tweezers to another hair and pulled again, another short gasp of breath and squeak. "Two".
And so I continued. He'd not been especially hairy to begin with, and he'd done an alright job with his shaving. Though, as I worked my way around his body with my tweezers - pubes, then ball sac (those hairs got the loudest squeaks from Fuck Boy), then ass crack, and finally arm pit left then right - it became clear that, when plucked out one by one, there was a whole lot more hair on this Fuck Boy's body than their first appeared. The useless cocksucker hadn't done a very good job at all. And now he was feeling a little short sharp pain for each individual piece of failure.
Though, of course, that pain was nothing compared to the ball flicking this was all adding up to. As the Fuck Boy concentrated on each of his hairs being removed one by one, though, I think he forgot about that element of his punishment. Even though it was the only reason that I was counting as I went. We were up 60 hairs before I reached his right pit, which contributed another 55.
"OK. So that's 115 hairs left on your body. What a fucking failure you are". I spoke in a very matter of fact way. "Right, so that's 575 ball flicks then I suppose".
I put the tweezers down and crouched, positioning my fingers read for the flicking.
"No sir, please sir, I can't sir, please, I'm sorry sir, please..." He really had forgotten about the flicks, I'm certain of that, so sudden and OTT was this outpouring of begging, half shouted, half squeaked, and accompanied by the most full-on crying so far. What a pathetic little girly gay boy this fuck really was.
I let him cry and beg in this way for about a minute. Then I properly shouted my next order. "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF SHIT", I flicked his balls hard on each syllable for effect. It worked. He stopped pleading and begging and crying. Well, he quietly continued to sob.
"Oh for fucks sake, alright then". I stood, reached up, and uncuffed his arms, and then - as he instinctively rubbed his wrists (there'd be ten more faults for that) - crouched down and did the same to his feet. Then I stood up again, walked round the back of the Fuck Boy, and pushed him forwards back towards the tin bath and then pushed him down back onto his knees, so that his face was leaning over it. Then I grabbed the pissy rope out of his rucksack and tied his arms behind his back again.
"OK" I said, "you pathetic little fuck - perhaps I can cut you a deal".
I walked round to the other side of the tin bath, yanked my dick out of my pants, and pissed. There was still a slight puddle in the bottom of the bath, a mixture of mine and his piss from earlier, and floating in it were many of the hairs that had been successfully cut or shaved from the boy's body earlier. Having replenished my bladder, I added a good helping of fresh piss to the puddle below. Then I placed by cock back in my pants, fetched the sheet of paper holding the plucked hairs, and let them fall into the piss puddle too.
"OK, this is the new deal. I'll give you another ten minutes. Get you tongue into this bath and lick up every hair that's in the piss puddle. If you eat all your filthy hairs, I'll give your balls a rest. But the same rules apply as before, any hairs left in that piss after fifteen minutes gets you five hard flicks on the balls. You understand".
"Yes sir, thank your sir, that's so kind sir".
"Then get going, because your ten minutes has already begun".
It took him about a minute to get his tongue into the piss, and to consume the first pube. But once he got how it worked, he lapped at that piss and ate up those hairs like the obedient little fuck boy I knew he would become.
I left him to it, watching from the TV screen in my bedroom while stroking my dick. I was real horny again. Though hungry too. Soon it would be time to call for that pizza. Though maybe there was time for another blow job first.
I'd have to do all the work again of course - the blow job tutorial wasn't due until the morning - but that was OK. I suppose if I was going to do all the work anyway, I could just fuck his ass hole. But that was for tomorrow too. And anyway, with all that piss, and pubic, pit and butt hair in his tummy, he probably needed another helping of my spunk to provide some nutrients.