The Pet

The last things I remember in my life were his arms, grabbing me from behind and covering my mouth; the darkness of the street, the quick and sharp pain in my neck. Everything that came after can’t be referred to as life. But it’s not a death either, unfortunately. There’s too much sounds and smells surrounding me for that. Too much sensations. But then again, this could be real hell, which is opposite of heaven. Who knows.

I remember my first day in this hell. How I woke up and opened my eyes, but saw nothing. How I tried to get up, but was jerked back to the floor with a clank of a chain. How I discovered that I was completely naked and my wrists are handcuffed behind my back. That the only garment I wore was a thick leather hood without any eyeholes, tightly laced. And the collar, of course, which was connected to the metal ring in the floor by a short, half-a-meter chain. A usual woodboard floor; polished, from the feel of it. When I tried to speak, I found the last item of my “clothing”: a big rubber ball in my mouth with straps all over my head. Judging from the ache in my jaw, it had been there for some time already.

But even then I didn’t realize how serious it was. After I found out that I couldn’t get up on my feet (the chain didn’t allow me to raise my head above the floor), I stretched my leg and began to feel around. After a minute I knew I was lying in the corner, and that there was nothing else around me except two bare walls and the polished wooden floor. I tried to wriggle my hands out of cuffs, then I tried to reach my hood or collar with them; each attempt ended with nothing. I was imprisoned by someone and couldn’t break free.

“Hi there,” his voice said suddenly. The only human voice I would be able to hear from now on. I startled. My captor was here all this time, watching my blind movements.

“Do you know who I am?” he said again.

I shook my head, blindfolded and gagged. I had absolutely no idea who this man could be, and I certainly didn’t know this voice.

“I am your master,” he went on calmly. “And you are my pet. That’s the only thing you need to know. You may be thinking: who the hell does he think he is, fuck him… right? I’d suggest you to abandon such thoughts. As you know already, you can’t make yourself free; and I, on the other hand, can do whatever I want with you. I think I could even demonstrate you that right now.

Someone stood up from an invisible bed, the wood creaking, and heavy footsteps began to approach me slowly.

“Get up on your knees and stick up your ass,” said the voice. “And don’t make me to ask twice.”

Of course, I could put up a fight. Kicking and screaming, shrinking into my corner… but what was the point? He was right: I couldn’t free myself. And there was something in his voice that told me I would be very, very sorry if I didn’t do what he asked. I got on my knees clumsily and bowed, sticking up my ass and dreading for what would happen next.

I didn’t wait too long. A huge, unbearable pain stung my buttocks suddenly, and I fell to the floor, yelling and squirming, trying to squeeze myself into the corner.

“Up,” came his quiet voice.

I mumbled something pleading into my gag, breathing heavily through the hood’s nose holes. It was a cane or a stick of some sort; I could feel a big red stripe bulging across my cheeks.

“Up,” he repeated. “Another ten for that. Twenty if you fall again.”

Panting and clenching my teeth on the rubber ball, I rose on my knees again. I swallowed and felt my Adam’s apple against the thick leather of the collar. Whoever this man was, I was in his power now. I couldn’t do nothing but obey.

He began to whip me with his cane again; slowly, methodically, taking his time. Each blow came so hard and painful that I felt I couldn’t stand this anymore, that I would collapse on the floor again and die, no matter what he said. But I endured. Kneeling, clenching my handcuffed fists, biting my gag, waiting helplessly for this humiliating torture to end.

But my humiliation was only beginning. If I only knew how much humiliation I’d have to bear.

“Stay like this,” he said when he finished the beating and went away. I stayed kneeled; trembling, knowing that the skin of my buttocks and hips is gone forever. A thick leather of my hood wrapped my face in a tight sweaty cocoon.

“Get up on your feet,” he said when he returned.

Seeing nothing, understanding less, I tried to fulfill his order as I could. It wasn’t easy thing to do with handcuffs and a short chain holding me to the floor. I ended up standing at last, but bent hopelessly, chain pulled very tight. I waited, shaking and trying to find the balance, not knowing what was going to happen next. But just as his finger covered in something cold and greasy touched my anus, I understood. My legs gave way but somehow I managed to keep it, making a desperate and pleading sound from my gag.

“Nobody fucked you in the ass before?” he inquired calmly, squeezing his whole finger inside me. I shook my head violently, flinching in pain under my hood. “I thought so. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I’m gonna fuck you in the ass very often and very thoroughly. And with a very, very big pleasure, believe me. Because I like it, and because I can.”

I couldn’t run away. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t even curse or plead him: the gag harnessed me tightly, and the big rubber ball, wet with my saliva, sealed my mouth completely. Not one, but two of his fingers were probing my ass already, and I still couldn’t comprehend the situation. Standing in front of him, bent, collared and cuffed, I still hoped madly that it was some kind of a sick practical joke. But when he began to move inside me, holding me with both hands, I realized he wasn’t probing me anymore. There was a real dick inside of me, belonging to a real man, who was fucking me in the ass. Like I was his whore, his sex doll. Like I was his own pet.

He didn’t hurry, not at all. Prolonging his pleasure, he fucked me slowly and leisurely, stopping every now and then. During those stops he stroked and caressed my back, my bruised hips and buttocks, leaving his erect penis inside. I whined softly in my gag, not even realizing it. My rectum burned and hurt so much I couldn’t think of anything else. I could only pray that I wouldn’t lose my balance and fall, and that he would finish as soon as possible.

Finally I felt him moving faster. He pounded me so hard, grunting and panting, that I could barely stand. Suddenly the relentless rhythm broke, and I felt his hands squeezing my hips so hard that I wailed. After a minute of that he stopped, then took his dick out of me and just went away, not saying a word. I didn’t dare to move, not knowing if I may get back on the floor. I heard the noise of running water somewhere. Probably he was washing himself. I didn’t care. “He’s raped me,” I thought again and again. “He has just raped me in the ass. I’m not a man anymore. I’m a sexless pathetic creature. No matter what happens after that, I’ll never be the same anymore. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

“You may lie down,” he said when he returned. His first words that I was actually glad to hear. As much as I could be glad in this situation. Carefully I lowered myself on the floor and lay on my side, wincing in pain.

“I’m gonna take the gag off now,” he said. “If you scream or make any other sound, I’ll whip your balls with the cane. A hundred strokes. Right at those little naked balls of yours. Understood?”

I nodded. I would agree to everything, just to be left alone.

“I’ll tell you why. From now on, you can open your mouth for three things only. For food, for water, and for my cock. If you open your mouth for anything else, you’ll be gagged again and receive fifty strokes of cane. Understood?”

I nodded again, and he took the gag off. I tried to stretch my jaw without opening my lips, remembering only too well about his threat. He was going to feed me, at least. That was good, or so I hoped. At least I’d be alive for a while. I was trying not to think about the usages for my mouth.

He left me alone after that, turning on TV and doing something I couldn’t see. I lay in my corner and thought about the predicament I was in. First of all, where was this place? No matter how I tried, I couldn’t remember anything except the darkness and strong arms which took away my freedom. Maybe I was still in my suburb. Maybe not even too far from my home. Maybe I was captured by one of my neighbors. We know so little of our neighbors, don’t we? We don’t know how they live and what they think when we say hi to them on our way. We don’t know what they think about us.

Then I began to wonder: why me? I couldn’t remember doing anything that could inflict such a punishment on me. I didn’t have any enemies… at least, none that could be capable of this. I was 19, I was still a college student, maybe not too diligent, but so what? Who could hold such a grudge against me? And why? Why on Earth a man can enjoy stripping another man naked, handcuffing him, putting him on a chain? Why can he enjoy torturing and raping him? I remembered the stinging pain of cane, movements of his cock deep in my own ass, and winced in shame and pain. Nobody saw this under a thick leather hood.

Suffering in pain and self-pity, I lay like that for a long time. Once in a while I rolled on to another side carefully, my chain clanking: it wasn’t too comfortable to be naked on a hard floor. I still hoped it was all temporary, that if I wasn’t going anywhere for a while, at least he would put me off this chain, or at least would take off my handcuffs, or at least would take off this terrible leather hood.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

I didn’t know what my captor was doing. Maybe he was reading a book. Maybe he was watching the TV, which was still on. Maybe he was looking at me, enjoying the sight of his prey. I wondered how many naked and kidnapped boys were here already before me. Maybe he was even jerking himself off quietly. Well, that would hardly be the case. Why does he have to jerk now? Now he’s got me, his own living pet. He can fuck it whenever he wants, in whichever way he wants, as long as he wants. But then I heard fork clacking against the plate and realized he was just eating. Would I be able to use a fork again? Would I be able to live like a man after all this?

He came to me a minute after, as if hearing those thoughts. I heard him placing something on the floor beside me, and I sensed the smell of some food, with a strange but oddly familiar hint.

“That’s dog food,” he explained. “Since you’re my pet now, you’re going to be fed like one.”

No, I thought. This can’t be real. I can’t eat this. Never. Never in my life.

“And if this bowl won’t be empty ten minutes later,” he added, “you will experience so much pain that you will beg me to allow you to eat your own shit. Understood? Now eat.”

And he walked away, not caring about me anymore. And why should he? I couldn’t do anything. I could only obey him and live by his rules. Any step outside these limits meant only more pain and more humiliation. I’d experienced enough already.

And I began to eat the dog food. Without the use of my hands. From a plastic bowl on the floor. Kneeling beside it, naked, chained, deprived of human life and human food, deprived even of my own face. And I ate it in ten minutes. The food was all over my face and probably all over the floor. The taste in my mouth was hideous. I was degraded like never before in my life; but at least I escaped the punishment. And I wasn’t hungry anymore, despite how awful it may sound.

He carried the empty bowl away, then returned and ordered me to sit. He did something to the chain: it became longer, so I could sit on my butt without any problems. He wiped my leather-clad face and mouth with a damp cloth and put a neck of a plastic bottle in my mouth. It was a plain cold water, and I drank greedily.

“And now’s the time for dessert,” he said. “Besides, you should thank your master for such a delicious food. Open your mouth, pet.”

I opened my mouth and felt something smelly, soft and warm getting inside it. It was his penis. He was putting his dick into my mouth.

“Suck it,” he said. “And be gentle. Any bite or scratch, and you’ll lose your own prick in a second.”

I wasn’t going to put up a fight. Not after I was whipped, raped and fed with a dog food. I wasn’t even shocked. I just closed my lips obediently on his cock and began to suck, rolling it in my mouth like a candy. It didn’t have any particular taste. It was like I was sucking a finger, but without any bones. Only his hands, which were caressing my leathered head, and his heavy breathing above showed me that it was a real cock of a real man, the same cock that rammed my own ass before. It was the first blowjob I ever done in my life. But not the last. No, absolutely not the last.

His cock began to swell rapidly and quite soon it couldn’t fit into my mouth anymore. Now it wasn’t me sucking and licking it, but my head was pulled and pushed on it violently. Sometimes its tip touched the back of my throat, and I hardly could suppress the gag reflex. I wasn’t doing a blowjob anymore; he just fucked in my mouth. Suddenly he pulled my head on his cock so hard that I felt his pubic hair under my nose. We both shuddered: he, because he was coming right into my mouth, and me, because I was gagged by his cock, which squirted more and more warm gooey shots inside my gullet.

“Good boy,” he said finally, patting my head. “Now lick it clean.”

I began to lick his sperm off his dick, my eyes watering involuntarily under my hood. Indescribable taste was all over my mouth. Satisfied with my efforts at last, he shortened my chain again, forcing me to get back on the floor. After that he lost his interest in me again: judging by the sounds, he just sat on his bed and began to watch TV.

I lay motionless in my dark world, alone with my dark thoughts and the taste of sperm in my mouth. And with pain, of course: my violated asshole still burned, my caned hips and buttocks still ached. But even with all this, even with the hard wooden floor under my naked body, even with the hot leather on my head, even with the handcuffs cutting into my wrists, I still couldn’t believe that it was real, that it was happening right now, with me. I was taken from my usual life and thrown into madness, where I was nothing but a numb and downtrodden animal. Even worse than that. I still couldn’t believe that not a single living soul knew where I was, that nobody, most probably, would come to rescue me. The sheer thought that is was all real, that it was possible to kidnap a man and no one will find him, made me feel like screaming and thrashing on my chain, clawing my way out of these handcuffs, of this collar, and run away from this nightmare. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t even open my mouth. And I continued to lie there, rolling from one side to another and waiting for anything my captor would want to do with me.

Later another discomfort arose. I had to go to the toilet. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if I piss myself, but I didn’t see any other option. So I held on, rolling on the floor more and more often. Soon I wanted to piss so badly I forgot even about the pain in and on my ass.

“Stop fidgeting!” he shouted angrily. “You’ll piss and shit later. Hold it, or else.”

So he remembered about the other functions of my body. That eased me a little, and I tried to find a pose which would be more comfortable for my bladder. But then I realized that my dick began to get hard. That happens sometimes when you want to piss very bad. I tried to roll on my other side, hoping that my captor won’t see anything. But I was late. Probably he was enjoying the sight of me after all.

“Stay where you are! Legs straight!”

I obeyed, feeling my penis hardening more and more against my will.

“Well, well, look at that. I see I wasn’t mistaken choosing you. I see you like it, too. You like when I put you on a chain and fuck your every hole, don’t you? Well, you’re lucky then. You’ll have plenty of it. You’ll have nothing more at all, to be exact. Your life has only one meaning now: to stay in this corner and wait until my cock decides to fill any of your holes. But as soon as you like it, you won’t mind that, will you?” He paused. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t care whether you like it or not. The only important thing is what I like myself. And nobody cares about your own wishes.”

This speech had probably excited him. The last few words of it he said while he was sitting next to me and stroking my leather-clad head. Then his hands went lower, to my shoulders, then to my back, until he ended up on my buttocks and my erect penis. He took it in one hand and squeezed my balls in another so hard that I uttered a scream.

“You opened your mouth without permission, pet,” he said. “You’ll be punished.”

He shoved the gag back into my mouth. “On your feet, ass up,” he said when he fastened all its straps. Shaking in premonition, I rose. I was cursing myself madly in my mind. Why for fuck’s sake did I scream?! But then he hit me with his cane, and all thoughts disappeared from my mind instantly; everything was drowned in a red, blinding pain.

He made fifty accurate and hard strokes right onto the previous bruises. When he finished, I nearly collapsed, sweating and fainting, but that wasn’t the end of it. My anus was again touched by a greased finger, and after that his unbearably huge cock began to tear me apart. The pain, the humiliation and the unfairness of this situation were so intense that I burst into tears.

He raped me longer this time; about twenty, or even thirty minutes. When he tired of standing on his feet, he laid me down on my stomach and began to pump me on top, pressing me with the whole weight of his body. I felt his body hair on my back, felt his heavy breathing on my neck, felt his strong hands groping my shoulders, my arms, my head. He was definitely bigger than me, and older, but for how much? Forty? Forty-five? He pinned me on his relentless cock like I was an object, an inflatable doll, while I had to lie beneath him silently, exhausted with pain and disgrace, unable to stop it.

He came at last, making it third time that day. Whenever he fucked a naked boy in handcuffs last time, it probably was a long time ago. When he regained his breath, he rose and went to the shower again, while I was still lying there on my stomach, legs spread apart, too tired to move. I felt something cool on my anus: maybe it was lube, maybe it was his sperm. I didn’t want to check. I wanted only to die, die right now, at this very moment.

But that wasn’t what he wanted from me.

My first day in this hell ended up with the toilet he promised for me. I was ordered to squat, and I felt some kind of bowl pushed under me. I think it was a basin made of metal. With a huge relief I emptied my bladder in there, unable to shit for obvious reasons. To my surprise, he wiped my penis with a damp cloth when I was finished, and left me, taking the basin with him. Probably he didn’t want me to smell too bad. How praiseworthy. Probably it meant that I would be washed sometime later; but when and how, I didn’t have a clue. An hour or two later the TV went off, and everything went silent.

I didn’t have any sleep at that first night of my captivity. I couldn’t believe that tomorrow would bring only more of it. That he would fuck and beat me again, that I would have to eat more dog food. He didn’t take the gag off, and my jaws began to cramp some hours later. I breathed heavily in pain, clenching my teeth on the rubber ball. Minutes and hours passed so slowly. Like my saliva drooling out of my mouth. Like his sperm oozing out of my ass. I couldn’t sleep, not for a minute. The floor was too hard underneath me, the pains and aches in my body were too strong. I felt thirst, and after that I felt hunger. How in the God’s name I could stop all this? How could I regain my freedom? There weren’t any possible methods for this for me. Not a single one. Nothing.

When I finally heard him getting up, I felt weak and dizzy. I was broken. I would to anything just to let him feed me, or allow me to piss, or take this damned gag off. He did take it off at last, only to replace it with his cock: warm and hard with the morning erection. I sucked him off without a sound of complain. I swallowed his sperm and licked his penis clean, and I felt only a relief: I could move my jaw at last. Then there was another bowl of dog food, and I ate heartily: just like yesterday, without my hands, which were still cuffed behind me. He gave me some water to drink, then put the gag back on me… and left the house. I heard the front door shut and the lock clicked.

I couldn’t believe I was alone. I waited and waited, but it was quiet. Too quiet, actually: no sound of cars passing by the house, no other neighborhood noises, nothing. I couldn’t cry for help, being gagged as I was, but I could make other noises, and making them I did. I yelled in my gag so much that my head nearly exploded. I yanked and jerked my chain so much that my neck nearly broke. I twisted my arms in unbelievable ways, trying to reach my collar, or my hood, or my gag, or the metal ring on the floor. I hit the walls with my feet so hard I bruised my right one quite seriously. Sweat ran down my face under the leather of my hood, but I didn’t stop any of this, trying to break free at any cost.

Yet nothing happened. There was nothing around me except the bare floor and bare walls. Not a sound came from behind them. Nobody heard me, nobody came to rescue me. The chain on my collar was still there, and so were the handcuffs.  Wherever this place was, I wasn’t going out. And I stayed. And I waited. There was nothing else I could to. Only to wait, blindfolded, gagged, and desperate, until my “master” would return.

I think I managed to have some sleep after all, since I haven’t heard the door opening and woke up only with the sound of his footsteps. I froze, trying not to draw any attention to myself. I began to wonder after a while, who is he, and how does he look like. I knew he was older and heavier than me; but I didn’t know if his hair were blonde or dark, if he had any tattoos, what kind of clothes he wore. I wondered what his childhood was like, what his friends were like, if he had any. I wondered how he came to an idea that kidnapping a boy for sexual slavery would make him happy. I couldn’t imagine all that. I just couldn’t. Then I began to think what I would do to him if I broke free, and this made me feel better a little. These thoughts were disrupted harshly, when he came to me and ordered to stand up and bend for him. Once again I felt his hands on my naked buttocks, once again I felt his cock entering my asshole. This time it went easier, or so it seemed. Maybe my anus stretched a bit, maybe my attempts to relax the muscles did the trick. I didn’t know. The only thing I knew for a fact is that he possessed me completely, and any plans of revenge would stay inside my leathered head for a very, very long time.

Another bowl of food appeared after that, and another bottle of water. Once again the metal basin was pushed under me, and this time I did everything. He even wiped me with a toilet tissue. For all that kindness I had to thank him with another blowjob, which ended up by another assault on my ass. Then, after a while, everything went silent around me, and I realized that the second night of my captivity had begun. With me still chained, blindfolded and gagged.

He put this gag on me every time when he went outside (probably to work) and went to sleep. That’s why most of the time I spent with a huge rubber ball in my mouth. It drove me crazy at first, but then I learned how to lie on my back with jaw muscles relaxed, so that saliva would go back to my throat. My daily routine was the same: a bowl of dog food in the morning and in the evening, a toilet basin in the evening and in the morning. And sex, of course. He continued to rape me daily, sometimes two or three times a day; I don’t know where his energy came from. I got used to it, though, and relaxed my anus, waiting for his appetite to be sated. It was easier that way. Better than canings, at least.

On the sixth day of my captivity I was finally bathed. I still don’t know how he does it, though. The same drill every time. Sharp needle in my hip, I pass away, and the next thing I know is I’m clean. Probably he takes me off the chain and carries me to the bathroom. He cuts my nails there as well, and shaves me. Including my head, which is bald at all times. He grooms me like I’m a pedigree dog. I wonder if he had a dog in the past. Maybe naked young guys on a chain suited him better. You can fuck and beat a dog, of course, but to fuck and beat a young naked guy is probably better. Especially when he isn’t allowed to speak and has a leather hood on him at all times.

Yes, I’m still in this hood. I don’t know why. If he’s going to hold me here forever, he could just poke my eyes out. Or don’t even touch them at all, as long as I am to be killed afterwards. But if my eyes are still intact, and he is going to take this hood away, when is he going to do that? Is he at all? Or maybe he just likes this leather, which turns a man into a faceless fucktoy? Or maybe I am already blind, but don’t know about it? Ever since the first day of my captivity I haven’t seen a single thing.

He never talks to me, and forbids me to talk to him. He pays attention to me only when I have to be fed, toileted, or fucked. At all other times I just lie on the floor, alone with my darkness and my unhappy thoughts. I have less and less of them, though. What should I think about? And why should I think at all? I can’t break free from this hell. I don’t know when (and if) he’s going to free me. I don’t even know if anyone’s looking for me. Probably not. Too many days have passed. Too many dark and painful days, measured only by portions of dog food and unconscious shavings.

A man can get used to everything, though. Even to the fact that he’s constantly chained and blindfolded. That he lacks any ability to spend his leisure. My pleasures are simple: food, sleep, and sex. Though sex is only for enjoyment of one person here, and that person is not me. I have only my body as a company, with its arms always handcuffed behind.

If only my hands were free, or cuffed at the front at least, it would be easier. Oh, how much easier it would be. Now I can only rub myself against the polished woodboards, which can’t hide a single trace of my activities. Of course, he sees it all when he comes home. He laughs at me, calls me “his little wanker” while he’s wiping away my traces. And, of course, he punishes me for that. Twenty strokes for my balls. With cane. I have to lie on my back with my legs spread apart, and if I move them back together accidentally, I get another ten. That is the price for the only pleasure I can get. And you can’t get used to that. No way. Just as you can’t get yourself another pleasure for the next few days.

I think this is also a part of his plan. To be humiliated not only by him, but by myself too. Knowing that I will do this again and again, knowing that he’s always got something to punish me for. I tell that myself each time I begin to think about another pleasure. It helps for a while. But when you lie on the floor naked, when you’re used for sex day by day, you can’t think of anything but sex after a while. I even regret I wasn’t born a girl at these minutes. It would be easier for a girl to get a pleasure in my situation. I heard, though, that some girls can climax during the anal sex, but I seriously doubt that. I don’t feel anything during anal sex, except the pain in my stretched sphincter.

And now I hear the front door opening. I know that there’s another sticky spot beside me. And I know I’m going to writhe in pain soon enough, counting the strikes of cane. My master doesn’t forgive such behavior. He has to keep his little pet trained and disciplined.

I only hope I won’t put my legs together this time and won’t earn ten more strokes.

THE END

Characters are fictional, similarities are coincidental.

Your thoughts and suggestions are always welcome at gawler.hicks@gmail.com