Rent Part 3
By David Waledich
MM+  Mdom bd nc tort viol oral anal ws scat whip sm scat fist

Copyright reserved 2003

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and 
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is
found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author.
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to 
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. He does not condone actual violence against women or men, or non consensual sex. These stories are a sexual fantasy, nothing more.

Synopsis: During a  very brutal S&M torture session the rent boy finds that everyone has his breaking point…

Part 3

I stayed at the flat for another month. The sexual duties became worse and worse, the floggings more severe, and the humiliations more extreme. It was going beyond what was sexually exciting, and into the realms of real pain. I think Steve was trying to see how far I would go before I snapped and left: what it would take to break me. 

The beginning of the end was a really brutal buggering one afternoon by one of his friends whose cock had a huge steel stud pierced through the head of it. The metal stud was agony as it went through my sphincter, and it must have ripped my insides apart whilst he fucked me. I assume so because that evening when Steve told me to sit on his cock it was too painful for me to be able to bear to take his cock up me. I just couldn’t bring myself to sit right down. Steve was furious. He tied me to the bed and took my ass by force, sodomising me both with his cock and a large dildo whilst I chewed the pillow to try and stifle my noises. As he was finally hammering himself into orgasm up my bleeding rear he started whispering in my ear: “I thought I had broken your ass in, but obviously I haven’t. It needs more training. And I know just the people to do it. I’ll make an appointment. After they’ve finished with you your ass will take anything. Anything at all.” At that point he came and flooded my rectum with come. 

So that was how it happened. One afternoon he drove me to a lock up garage on the edge of town, near the allotments. It was kitted out as a torture chamber. I was too scared at what was going to happen to me. Steve quickly prepared me, chaining my arms wide apart to the steel rafters. My mouth was gagged with a large rubber dildo of a big black cock, held in place with a harness behind my head. My feet just rested on the garage floor. I was fully clothed apart from my trousers. 
Then something remarkable occurred. For the first time Steve took my cock out and started to wank it with his hand. Never had he tried to pleasure me in any way. He masturbated me, with hard well practised strokes, but he didn’t seem to be enjoying it. It was mechanical, automatic, his mind was somewhere else. “You’re trying not to come” he said quietly, after a while. “I’m going to carry on until you do, so don’t resist it. There’s a good boy.” I closed my eyes, imagined myself away from that cold clinical garage, and concentrated on his grip on my cock. After a couple more minutes I stiffened in his hand, and I came, my sperm flying out of my cock and splattering down onto the concrete floor. The moment I came he let go of my cock. I opened my bleary eyes and watched several big drops ooze out of my knob and dribble down the sides of my shaft. Quickly my penis softened and drooped, still dripping. He pulled my pants back up so that my exhausted cock hung limp and heavy out over the top of the elasticised band. “I didn’t do that for your pleasure” he said matter of factly. “I did it because after you have come it is much harder to take a whipping. It hurts more. Because you can’t take any sexual pleasure from it. You’ll see”. And with that he walked out. I looked down at the small pools of milky white sperm across the floor, lying in a line where they had splattered from my jerking cock. He was right. I now felt nothing but fear. No sexual tension, no excitement, just fear. 

I was left hanging there for half an hour, and my arms lost all circulation. In front of me, for my contemplation, was a table covered in a range of implements, from long leather cat o’ nine tail whips, and heavy studded belts, to razor fine bamboo canes. There was also a line of large dildos and butt plugs of varying sizes. The biggest one was shaped like a big clenched fist. A mirror was suspended on the wall in front of me, so that I could see myself hanging there. More importantly I would be able to see them behind me whilst they whipped me, and they would be able to watch the expression and the pain on my face whilst they did it. At two o’clock two men walked in. Both were stark naked, but for face masks that concealed their identities. One was quite short and stocky, with a paunch, and a huge silver piercing in the head of his knob. The other man was well built, and obviously worked out in the gym from the size of his pectorals and his arms. I had thought that Steve would have been one of the men who was going to carry out my training, but he obviously wasn’t. 
The first flogging was with heavy leather belts. One man stood on either side of me, and they took alternate strokes. I still had my shirt on so they concentrated on my ass. It took about twenty minutes. I wriggled and twisted and screamed on the rubber cock in my mouth, but there was no let up in the rhythm or the frequency of blows. The thin cotton of my pants afforded no protection from the blows, but it muffled the noise slightly. Then they lifted the back of my shirt and tied it up around my neck to bare my back. Huge steel butterfly clips were attached to my nipples, and then the second flogging started. The fat man was sweating so profusely that he stopped to get his breath back whilst the muscular man continued his workout by delivering a sound thrashing to my exposed back with a cat o’ nine tails. It too lasted about twenty minutes. 
Then the fat man pulled my knickers down off my buttocks, leaving them around my thighs, picked up the longest cane on the table and delivered six of the most vicious strokes I had ever experienced, from left to right across my buttocks. Then he handed the cane to the other man, and whilst I hung helplessly in front of them both, he delivered another six, from right to left. Every stroke he took his arm right back behind him, and it was delivered with all of his strength. I lost control round about the fourth stroke, and wet myself, the golden piss arcing out of my swinging shrunken cock and tinkling onto the hard floor. As I sobbed the piss came in short spurts. He just delivered the remaining two strokes as though nothing was happening. Nothing was said. 
A butt plug was selected from the table, bigger than a man’s cock, but not impossible, and attached to a harness before being inserted up my asshole and strapped in place. I groaned as it went up, my hole tight with fear and unlubricated, but the pain was nothing compared to the caning. The harness separated my buttocks cruelly wide, and when the next beating was delivered they took brutal advantage of it. They stood on either side, with metal studded paddles, and hit the buttock nearest to them. The noise was loud, a huge echoing smack that reverberated round the garage. The beating lasted about five minutes, and every twist and jerk I made caused that dildo in my ass to shift and turn excruciatingly. 

The dildo was removed from my ass, and the other dildo removed from my mouth. I gasped for air, shaking with the pain of my throbbing buttocks. As I feared the dildo from my bottom was promptly inserted into my mouth and strapped into place. I could taste the shit on it. At least the one from my mouth would be lubricated when they put it up my bottom, I thought. But they put it on the table, shining with spittle and gouged with my teeth marks, and selected the dildo shaped like a fist. I tried shaking my head but they weren’t bothered. The fat man held me in place by the hips whilst the strong man slowly forced the fist up my asshole. I heard the strong man grunting with the effort of getting it in, his arms muscles rippling and straining. It was sheer agony. I didn’t actually feel when my asshole ripped and it went inside. It was just when I felt him buckling the harness in place that I realised it had to be up me. When I opened my eyes they were standing on either side of me holding bamboo canes. It was going to be a double caning. For the first time one of them spoke. I think it was the fat man. He had a Eastern European accent. “Twenty four strokes” he said. I went cold. I couldn’t take that many. Then he added “Each”. I screamed and shook my head from side to side, trying to beg them not to. Forty eight strokes of long bamboo canes would be impossible to bear. But I was helpless. They waited for me to stop wriggling, their canes resting against my buttocks. Then the strong man swung his arm back and brought it forwards with all his might. At terrible whistling sound and then burning pain cut across my ass. Seconds later the fat man struck. They alternated, fast, as I twisted and writhed. They caned me with all their strength and I was helpless and naked in front of them. I wet myself again, piss spraying all over the floor as I swung around, and then I think I passed out, because I don’t remember them stopping. 
The next thing I remember was hanging there with piss running down my thighs and my bottom stinging like it never had before. The fist dildo was wrenched out of my ass and dropped on the ground in the piss in front of me. Then I was unfastened from the rafters and made to kneel down and lick up the now freezing cold piss from the ground. As I did so, my crimson-lined ass in the air, I was penetrated by the fat man and fucked for several minutes. All I remember was the stud in his knob scraping back and forth in my anal passage. I know he came in my bum because he gave it to me to suck afterwards and I could taste the sperm. After I had licked up all the piss the fat man emptied his own bladder onto the floor and made me lick that up too. Then I was given the fist shaped dildo to clean. There was a lot of shit smeared along the sides of it, and in places some of my own blood, but I licked until it was spotless. The strong man made me lie face down and hold my buttocks open for him. He entered me and fucked me violently into the ground for what felt like hours. Several times he gave me his cock to suck clean before returning it to my ass. When he came in my ass I no longer felt pain or repulsion – I felt nothing but relief. He urinated all over me, but I didn’t care. 
That night I returned home and found Steve waiting for me. He made me tell him everything that had happened to me, and show him all the scars on my body, where they had beaten me, and made me hold my ass open for his inspection. He had arranged it all, but he wanted to make sure it had been carried out. He played with his cock whilst he listened and looked at me. Then he told me to lie down on the bed. I begged him not, but he could, so he put his cock up his ass and fucked me. Then whilst he buggered me, he again made me again recount everything that had happened in the garage in more detail. When I got to the bit about the fist sized dildo he fucked me as hard as he could, as though relishing in the extra pain he was causing my bruised asshole. When I got to the double caning he could restrain himself no longer and came really deep and hard in my ass, adding his sperm to the seed of the other two men, already up there. As soon as he had finished coming he pulled it out, opened my buttocks again to inspect the damage to my anus, and then knelt in front of me on the bed and lifted my head to give me his cock to suck. As I cleaned it from a sticky mixture of different men’s come, he instructed me that I should go back to my own room. I shouldn’t go to the bathroom to wash. If he felt like it he said he might come to me in the night and do me again. Or he might wait until morning. As I lay in bed that night I decided I was going to have to leave the house. It had become too violent and too dangerous. He woke me at four o’clock and raped me for twenty minutes. After he had come he took me into the bathroom and emptied his bladder into my mouth. Then he made me fill up a glass with my own urine and drink it in front of him. Night-time piss is always foul smelling and foul tasting. I could hardly get it down. I knew then that I would leave. 
The following morning I could hardly walk and certainly couldn’t sit down. I packed my bags, called a taxi and left the flat, closing the door firmly behind me. I didn’t leave a forwarding address. I was too scared of what might happen if Steve came after me, to punish me for running away. Several days later, when I had recovered, I woke one morning and my cock was hard. As I wanked it I imagined Steve tracking me down, coming into the room with the two men who had tortured me and trained my ass, and subjected me to another gang rape. As I came all over my stomach I realised that Steve was always going to be a part of me. What he had done to me by force had changed my life. I still fancied women more than men, but now I was turned on by the thought of cocks, in my mouth and up my ass, turned on by the thought of being raped, turned on even by the thought of being flogged. My fantasies, my sexuality, and even my body, were never going to be the same again.

End of part three.