Hard core stories for the hard core. These stories are all fantasies and should not be taken as portraying either the actions or the inclinations of those individuals appearing in the accompanying photos or gifs. All photos and gifs are reblogs. If you want a post or photo of or about you deleted, please let me know and I will delete it.
Cole wasn’t absolutely sure where he was headed but he had a good idea. The fact that he was buck naked seemed to make it almost a certainty, and it definitely wasn’t a destination that he would ever have chosen for himself. Unfortunately for Cole, the days when he was free to make those choices were long past and now it was Cole’s owner, Peter Maxum, who made all those decisions for the boy. So when his owner ordered him to get his naked ass in the waiting car, all Cole could do was gulp, get into the back seat, and pray that he wasn’t headed out to Caesar Shapiro’s estate or that, if he was, it would only be for the day or the weekend at most.
Not that Caesar couldn’t do a lot of damage to the boy in just a single day. Hell, he could do a lot of damage to a boy in a single hour, as Cole was well aware from his past encounter with the Man. But Cole was sure that anything longer than a weekend would be guaranteed to leave Cole’s pussy totally wrecked and the rest of his body so bruised and battered that it would be weeks before Cole was able to function the way a faggot boywhore was expected to.
Like any owned faggot, Cole had become inured to being used and abused. It was something Cole could expect to endure every day he was with his owner. After all, Peter Maxum like his sex hard and rough and Cole could scarcely remember a time in the past year and a half when his pussy wasn’t sore and leaking Man-scuzz. But Caesar Shapiro was in a whole different league.
For Caesar, the infliction of pain and degradation wasn’t just an ancillary result of his attainment of sexual pleasure as he utilized Cole’s two fuck-holes, it was the primary goal of every session with the boy. Nothing seemed to excite the Man more than seeing Cole writhing and screaming in absolute agony. And the Man was a Master at adding humiliation to the mix.
Cole had already spent an entire day with the Man. When he’d arrived – naked like he was now – at the Man’s estate early that morning, he had discovered that Caesar had invited five friends over to enjoy the boy’s services. No sooner had he entered the Man’s mansion and been escorted to his ‘playroom’ than all six Men proceeded to piss the boy’s two holes, two at a time, one at each end. It was obvious from the volume of urine that each Man spewed into Cole that they had prepared for this ahead of time.
By the time all six Men had emptied their bladders into the boy, Cole’s stomach was obscenely bloated. A huge plug was immediately rammed up the boy’s pussy and then, for the next two hours, the Men amused themselves by batting the boy around, slapping and punching his bulging abs, torturing his boy-tits, nads, and boy-clit, making him perform obscene and degrading dances, laughing and mocking him even as the cramps he was suffering became almost unbearable, warning Cole that if he pissed even a drop of the liquids they’d sprayed down his throat they’d castrate him right then and there.
Cole was sobbing and crying almost the entire time, begging them to be allowed to piss and void the piss enema, promising to perform one disgusting task after another if only they would let him expel the foul bladder waste that was tormenting his body. When they finally allowed him to do so, they made him lie on his shoulders, his ass over his face, when they removed the plug so that all the piss and anal slime cascaded down Cole’s torso and over his head, as they laughed uproariously. And then, as the piece de resistance, they forced the boy to slurp up all the disgusting liquids he’d just emptied from his ass, leaving Cole literally quivering in shame and mortification.
But, no sooner had Cole finally reingested the nauseous brew fresh from his own asshole, than they made sure that the boy performed every degrading task he had earlier promised in his desperate attempt to obtain permission to expel all the piss that had been spewed into his body. By the time they let the boy leave early the next morning, Cole had been so humiliated that he found it impossible to even to hint at all the vile things he’d allowed those six Men to do to him. It was, without doubt, the worst night of Cole’s entire life.
Once he’d recovered from that horrible night, Cole had begged his owner never to send him back to Caesar’s house, pleading with the Man to spare him the indignities and pain that the Man loved to inflict on him, but his owner warned him that he might not have any choice. “Boy,” Peter told him, “you need to understand that I owe Caesar a significant amount of money, money I can ill-afford to pay back. And he was quite taken by you during your last visit. It’s possible we might be able to reach an agreement where he’ll cancel my debt entirely if I make you available for his use.”
Cole had been terrified when he heard this. “Oh, sir,” he pleaded, “you’re not going to sell me to him, are you? Oh, please, sir. Don’t do that. Don’t sell me to Caesar.”
“No, I won’t sell you to him, boy,” Peter had replied. “But I may have to allow him to have you for a significant period of time.”
“Oh, please, sir. Please,” the boy begged, “don’t do that.”
His owner, though, was unmoved by Cole’s desperate pleas. “Boy, you’re my property,” he replied sternly, “and I’m free to dispose of you anyway that I want. Never forget that. I’ll make any deal I feel is beneficial to me. And you’ll just have to deal with it. Am I clear, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Cole responded dejectedly, his whole insides twisted into a knot at the prospect of having to service Caesar Shapiro for an even longer period of time than he had in the past.
Nothing more was said about it but, if anything, the silence that had descended over that topic exacerbated rather than eased Cole’s apprehensions. And when today, the car pulled into the driveway, the same car that had taken him to Caesar’s estate with the same driver behind the wheel, all of Cole’s fears coalesced into a shaking terror, a terror that only grew when Peter ordered the boy to get into the car naked, just like he’d been on his previous trip to Caesar.
“Oh, please, sir. Please,” Cole had begged. “Don’t make me go with him. Please don’t make me go with him.”
But his owner was unmoved. “Get in the car, bitch,” he roughly ordered. “Get in the car, now!”
Trying hard to keep from crying, Cole slowly opened the back door and got into the car. A moment later, the car was pulling into traffic. And now Cole was on his way to the last place in the world he wanted to go. And he could only pray that his stay would be short.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Forty-five minutes later, the car was pulling up the long driveway that led up to Caesar Shapiro’s mansion. And to Cole’s consternation, Caesar was actually standing outside, waiting for him. The driver stopped the car, got out, and then opened the passenger door. “Get out, bitch,” he roughly ordered.
Knowing he had no choice, Cole did as he’d been ordered. Immediately, Caesar walked up to the boy and grabbed Cole’s boy-junk in his hand. He squeezed hard and then viciously twisted it, forcing Cole to moan in pain. “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, boy,” the Man gloated. “So much fun – over the next six months.”
And, hearing those words, Cole knew exactly where he was. He was in Hell. And his torment was just starting.
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Cole wasn’t absolutely sure where he was headed but he had a good idea. The fact that he was buck naked seemed to make it almost a certainty, and it definitely wasn’t a destination that he would ever have chosen for himself. Unfortunately for Cole, the days when he was free to make those choices were long past and now it was Cole’s owner, Peter Maxum, who made all those decisions for the boy. So when his owner ordered him to get his naked ass in the waiting car, all Cole could do was gulp, get into the back seat, and pray that he wasn’t headed out to Caesar Shapiro’s estate or that, if he was, it would only be for the day or the weekend at most.
Not that Caesar couldn’t do a lot of damage to the boy in just a single day. Hell, he could do a lot of damage to a boy in a single hour, as Cole was well aware from his past encounter with the Man. But Cole was sure that anything longer than a weekend would be guaranteed to leave Cole’s pussy totally wrecked and the rest of his body so bruised and battered that it would be weeks before Cole was able to function the way a faggot boywhore was expected to.
Like any owned faggot, Cole had become inured to being used and abused. It was something Cole could expect to endure every day he was with his owner. After all, Peter Maxum like his sex hard and rough and Cole could scarcely remember a time in the past year and a half when his pussy wasn’t sore and leaking Man-scuzz. But Caesar Shapiro was in a whole different league.
For Caesar, the infliction of pain and degradation wasn’t just an ancillary result of his attainment of sexual pleasure as he utilized Cole’s two fuck-holes, it was the primary goal of every session with the boy. Nothing seemed to excite the Man more than seeing Cole writhing and screaming in absolute agony. And the Man was a Master at adding humiliation to the mix.
Cole had already spent an entire day with the Man. When he’d arrived – naked like he was now – at the Man’s estate early that morning, he had discovered that Caesar had invited five friends over to enjoy the boy’s services. No sooner had he entered the Man’s mansion and been escorted to his ‘playroom’ than all six Men proceeded to piss the boy’s two holes, two at a time, one at each end. It was obvious from the volume of urine that each Man spewed into Cole that they had prepared for this ahead of time.
By the time all six Men had emptied their bladders into the boy, Cole’s stomach was obscenely bloated. A huge plug was immediately rammed up the boy’s pussy and then, for the next two hours, the Men amused themselves by batting the boy around, slapping and punching his bulging abs, torturing his boy-tits, nads, and boy-clit, making him perform obscene and degrading dances, laughing and mocking him even as the cramps he was suffering became almost unbearable, warning Cole that if he pissed even a drop of the liquids they’d sprayed down his throat they’d castrate him right then and there.
Cole was sobbing and crying almost the entire time, begging them to be allowed to piss and void the piss enema, promising to perform one disgusting task after another if only they would let him expel the foul bladder waste that was tormenting his body. When they finally allowed him to do so, they made him lie on his shoulders, his ass over his face, when they removed the plug so that all the piss and anal slime cascaded down Cole’s torso and over his head, as they laughed uproariously. And then, as the piece de resistance, they forced the boy to slurp up all the disgusting liquids he’d just emptied from his ass, leaving Cole literally quivering in shame and mortification.
But, no sooner had Cole finally reingested the nauseous brew fresh from his own asshole, than they made sure that the boy performed every degrading task he had earlier promised in his desperate attempt to obtain permission to expel all the piss that had been spewed into his body. By the time they let the boy leave early the next morning, Cole had been so humiliated that he found it impossible to even to hint at all the vile things he’d allowed those six Men to do to him. It was, without doubt, the worst night of Cole’s entire life.
Once he’d recovered from that horrible night, Cole had begged his owner never to send him back to Caesar’s house, pleading with the Man to spare him the indignities and pain that the Man loved to inflict on him, but his owner warned him that he might not have any choice. “Boy,” Peter told him, “you need to understand that I owe Caesar a significant amount of money, money I can ill-afford to pay back. And he was quite taken by you during your last visit. It’s possible we might be able to reach an agreement where he’ll cancel my debt entirely if I make you available for his use.”
Cole had been terrified when he heard this. “Oh, sir,” he pleaded, “you’re not going to sell me to him, are you? Oh, please, sir. Don’t do that. Don’t sell me to Caesar.”
“No, I won’t sell you to him, boy,” Peter had replied. “But I may have to allow him to have you for a significant period of time.”
“Oh, please, sir. Please,” the boy begged, “don’t do that.”
His owner, though, was unmoved by Cole’s desperate pleas. “Boy, you’re my property,” he replied sternly, “and I’m free to dispose of you anyway that I want. Never forget that. I’ll make any deal I feel is beneficial to me. And you’ll just have to deal with it. Am I clear, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Cole responded dejectedly, his whole insides twisted into a knot at the prospect of having to service Caesar Shapiro for an even longer period of time than he had in the past.
Nothing more was said about it but, if anything, the silence that had descended over that topic exacerbated rather than eased Cole’s apprehensions. And when today, the car pulled into the driveway, the same car that had taken him to Caesar’s estate with the same driver behind the wheel, all of Cole’s fears coalesced into a shaking terror, a terror that only grew when Peter ordered the boy to get into the car naked, just like he’d been on his previous trip to Caesar.
“Oh, please, sir. Please,” Cole had begged. “Don’t make me go with him. Please don’t make me go with him.”
But his owner was unmoved. “Get in the car, bitch,” he roughly ordered. “Get in the car, now!”
Trying hard to keep from crying, Cole slowly opened the back door and got into the car. A moment later, the car was pulling into traffic. And now Cole was on his way to the last place in the world he wanted to go. And he could only pray that his stay would be short.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Forty-five minutes later, the car was pulling up the long driveway that led up to Caesar Shapiro’s mansion. And to Cole’s consternation, Caesar was actually standing outside, waiting for him. The driver stopped the car, got out, and then opened the passenger door. “Get out, bitch,” he roughly ordered.
Knowing he had no choice, Cole did as he’d been ordered. Immediately, Caesar walked up to the boy and grabbed Cole’s boy-junk in his hand. He squeezed hard and then viciously twisted it, forcing Cole to moan in pain. “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, boy,” the Man gloated. “So much fun – over the next six months.”
And, hearing those words, Cole knew exactly where he was. He was in Hell. And his torment was just starting.