Hunt for Master Finally Ends

[k_vine]

CW:  Mild raunch play will follow.  Piss, Sadism and Pain will all be a part of this narrative.

Also this is my first story submission here, please be kind, and if you can't at least be constructive. 🙂

 

 

Part 1:

 

Ive always been a cock hound.  From a young age I can remember being obsessed with mens crotches.  Staring and wanting to touch, all the while not knowing it wasn’t an ok thing to be into openly so young.  When a friend of mine was over on a slumber night he introduced me to jacking off. 
 

From then on, like most men, every chance I got was reserved for unloading my balls.  As I got older the obsession grew to finding things to put up my ass, blowing a couple select friends in high school, sucking random cocks in bathroom stalls at the mall, and even following a man in his golden years to his camper van parked outside the drugstore to get quickly fucked and loaded up.

 

Now a mid 30s bear, my kink list longer than my turn offs I began in earnest the hunt for a cock proud Sir to call my own. I’d learned in the preceding years that I loved Dominant men who didn’t ask before they did things.  Loved how it felt to have a man piss in my mouth without warning, grab my head and hold it down on his cock or balls or in his musty ass.  The feeling of having a hard cock rammed into me without concern for stretching or pausing to make sure I could take it, and each time I heard a Top say “damn you can take cock”, it made me want to press harder, be piggier, feel more used.   I’d never cared much to have my dick played with by others, a pity given I’d been blessed with an above average but not huge piece of meat.  I could easily orgasm just from getting pounded or fisted, and even when my balls were being absolutely crushed.

 

All in all it was a normal Friday night for me to get off work, have a quick dinner and hit the apps.  I had a profile on them all varying the text to cater to the site, but in recent months none seemed to be doing the trick.  So I dropped all pretence and went for the kinkiest site and posted the following:

 

“33 yo insatiable sub pig slave.  250 lb, rugby build, curly mohawk, with a hairy chest and back, fuzzy ass cheeks, and a big dick.  No gag reflex left, and a talented hole for you to fist and jack off inside of.  Looking for my real full time Master.  I’m open to all kinds but there is a special place in my hole for dudes who work with their hands, don’t have time or care to bathe everyday, and smoke reds.  My Sir needs a pig who will get on his knees anytime anywhere and swallow what is offered, from a quick bj, to full time urinal.  He shows his love by spitting in my face and mouth, pulling my hair, and generally hurting me and getting off on it.  He also needs to Fuck many times a day and knows how to use his big cock to breed and rape a slave into crying submission.  He shouldn’t care about my cock and balls unless its to beat them swollen, or squeeze them flat as he breeds me deep and often.  I’m a smart guy who hungers for intelligent discourse in between sessions of sadism and piggery.  Neg here but your status unimportant to me.  If you have a wry to evil smirk I’m already yours”

 

I sat back and took in my ad, wondering if I’d left anything out, or added too much on the off chance that someone who could genuinely take me too far beyond my limits came forth, but the excitement I felt at that chance had me hitting ‘Post’ and grabbing my rock hard cock at the same time.

 

Normally when I post these long ads I find something else to do while I wait, experience having taught me it could be days before getting any traction at all, but to my shock fewer than 5 minutes later my browser pinged.  It was from a profile I’d seen before and considered years prior, but his pictures made him seem so out of my league, and his lack of kink information gave me the impression we had little in common regardless and so I’d never hit him up.  But I’d checked him out off and on.  Noticed when he started to look a bit more weathered but somehow not aged, when his shoulders broadened with the evidence of a physical job, and stomach grew a bit with every Friday night beer.  When his hiv status went from negative to poz undectable to poz to no answer at all.

 

This time however his profile had been completely filled out and what I saw nearly made me shoot right there.  Suddenly he’d revealed he’d been a sadist Master in a nearly closed relationship for 15 years, and with that connection at an end he was hunting for his new slave.

 

It read:  “My previous slave has moved on to a once in a lifetime opportunity and while I’m saddened, I know he will take the lessons of my hands and grow into a truly great Master himself.  Its time for me now to find a new slave to own, a new cumdump to claim, or just a new boy to hurt as time allows.  My limits are few, but know that if you apply, you’d better like drinking piss because my Master gold doesn’t hit porcelain, ever.  And if you aren’t already poz, you will be when you leave.  All else is up for discussion, right after you’re blindfolded and gagged because I will do with you what I want.  Not messing around, if you apply you’d better be prepared to scream”

 

A quick skim of his profile pics showed no fewer than 3 of him dragging on a Marlboro and smirking at the camera, cock in hand.  One of his arm elbow deep in a boys ass, and one of a fiery red fresh biohazard tattoo surrounding his hairy navel.

 

By the time I opened his message I was already light headed and salivating. It simply said:

 

“Its time slave.  I’ve seen you watching, as I’ve been watching you.  I’ve watched as you’ve inched towards realizing you’re a full time slave, been delighted to see you embrace your body and chubuscular build, and was proud to see that prep disappeared from your profile.  Now its time to take your place at my side.  You have 2 hours to prepare and be at my home, at 2 hours one minute you will be punished severely, at 2 hours 2 minutes you will cease to exist to me at all.  Choose wisely. Bring your favourite toy, your sexiest leather, and the acceptance that your life as you knew it is over. MC”

 

I started totally dumbfounded at his address, not 2 kilometres from me, in a wooded subdivision on the outskirts of town.  At first 2 hours seemed overly generous, but it was nearly 30 before I recovered enough from disbelief to haul ass into the shower.  Could I really be doing this?  Is it finally happening? Had I been chosen to serve, to be owned, beaten, pozzed and claimed?

 

Without looking back, I ran from my apartment, got in the car and drove feeling a horned frenzy like none I’d ever known, and a growing sense of peace that my true purpose and talents were about to finally take flight.

[bootedrbrboi4poz]

This is a great start, I can't wait for the next part.

[k_vine]

Part 2: Is this an audition or adulation?

 

In my eagerness I arrive at his forest home in just over 90 minutes.  After a moment agonizing over which he would prefer, exact promptness or the zeal of being early it occurred to me that he likely already knew my excitement and desire to prove myself would cause me to be early and that was what he’d want to see.  At first the conviction of this realization surprised me.  How on earth did I believe this.  We’d never spoken or met, simply admired one another over time and an even shorter distance than id ever imagined.  But at the same time there was a electric connection, something deep inside of me that knew that He KNEW me.  Knew how to get what he wanted out of me, and that if I could let my slave self lead and trust the impulses I was feeling I would be doing exactly what he wanted.

 

And so I parked, walked calmly and confidently to the door, knocked twice and immediately kneeled.  I tilted my gaze upwards at the closed door and allowed my jaw to go slack, leaving my mouth hanging open and ready should he desire it.  When he opened the door, his face remained stoic, with the smallest pull of a proud grin at his eyes and corner of his lips.  He surprised me when he said,

 

“I’m honoured that you have chosen to show me exactly who you are slave.” His voice almost kind and fatherly.  “To me the slave is the yin to his Master Yan, for one cannot exist without the other.  What is it to be a Master without a slave to mentor and protect, and what is a slave without a Master to use him, his talents, his….,” his voice growing softer until bent and whispered in my ear “Gifts.”

 

He placed his hand on either side of my face, assessing my eyes as I stared rapt into his.  Without warning, he spit into my mouth.  Once, then twice, then after snorting and working a third time. He then gently closed my mouth, and slapped me across the face so hard I fell from my knees onto my hands, adrenaline and fear suddenly rushing through me, directly into my cock now so hard I wondered if it would break off from the pressure.  All kindness gone from his eyes and face he said,

 

“You may now swallow my gifts, get off the floor and go the room downstairs at the end of the hall.  You’ll know the one.”

 

He walked away from me just as suddenly, and with a surge of delight I swallowed the spit I’d somehow managed to keep in my mouth.

 

I forced myself to walk as calmly as I could to the room that was clearly a dungeon, and I took a moment to steady my breathing as I looked around.  I now understood he was giving me a moment to acquaint myself with my new home, as I also knew it wasn’t likely that I would leave the is room often after tonight.  The door entered the space and opened into a room that could easily have contained my whole apartment.  On one side was a wall of cabinetry and open shelving, proudly displaying various floggers, dildos and truly massive ass toys.  Something I believed to be a milking machine, and many drawers filled with medical looking tools most of which I didn’t know the purpose of.  In one of the four corners was a barbers chair connected to a Fucking machine in a contraption the looked home made but well done. To the left behind a wall of bars the was a fully tiled open shower room with several shower heads and shower shots as well as a plastic urinal with a hose dangling below it.

 

Along the back wall were two slings set at different heights, a Fuck bench, stocks, and emblazoned on the back wall was a giant biohazard symbol painted in a red suede paint on a metallic black background.  Hashtags in gold surrounded the symbol totalling 31 marks in all with room to add more.  In UV paint pen were signatures of what I assumed to be various visitors to the space numerous enough to fill a huge portion of the black background, some with comments and adulations, other just a name and date.

 

As I took it all in I started to wonder if I really knew what I was doing.  My cock still throbbed in the musty well used jock I’d put on, but other than reading and jacking off to stories of chasing I’d never actively pursued that kink. Not like I had with piss drinking or bondage, both of which I’d hungered for before during and after each liaison.  Now that I was here, my own masochistic pig mind having mad the decision for me I let myself take the moment to answer one question.

 

Can I actually do this?

 

A shiver ran down my spine and my face flushed as I heard firm footsteps descend the stairs behind me.  I knew that I’d be afraid right up until the moment his raw cock was kissing my abused hole, but that fear would pale in comparison to my want, no my deep deep NEED to serve Him and be used however he wanted, my own desires secondary.

 

I turned to gaze on his face.  A Marlboro dangled from his lips, off to the left controlled in a way that spoke to his ease, he carried a tall glass in each hand.  One filled with a light golden brew, and the other with an amber liquid.  He handed me both and asked “How do you like the space?”

 

He walked over to a large love seat that blended so well into the dark walls I’d failed to notice it.  Pulling out one of the drawer sets that was in fact also a hidden table, he rolled it infant of the sofa and sat down, gesturing for me to join him.

 

“The cider is for me, never been a fan of beer but they make this locally.  Try some, If you like it we have plenty, both new and used.” He chuckled.

 

I walked over to him taking the barest sip of the cider, moved to emotion by his openness and real desire to share as well as use.  I’d had this cider before and it was a favourite, he gave a genuine smile at this and patted the cushion next to him.

 

Setting the glasses on the table, Cider for him, Piss for me, I stood for a moment locked into indecision between sitting on the couch and getting onto the floor.  He watched as I froze, his preference hidden behind a mask of inscrutability.  Letting go of my fear that my choice would be wrong, I chose the floor, sitting crosslegged between his legs, placed my hands behind me on the floor to let him know that I knew my place, and could be relaxed and comfortable there and tried to carry off an air of nonchalance.

 

He smiled at me, almost lovingly.

 

“To answer your question Sir, This space is… intense.” I said, “oh and thank you for the drink!”  I reached behind me to get the glasses I’d set there, handing him his before settling with my own.

 

“Yes that is one way to describe it,” He said, “Its been a labor and a monument.”  He exhaled a long stream of smoke in my face and extinguished the cigarette. “Now boy, we have a lot to talk about and we will, but for now all you need to know is that I’m going to hurt you.  You aren’t going to like it, but you will love it.  When you leave here tomorrow evening, it will be to wrap up the life you’ve known and return, or it will be for the final time.  Of course we can also stop right here, before the point of no return.  This choice, one of your last that is your own I think, must be yours.”

 

The choice made, I knew I wasn’t leaving, and to show him this I put the glass of piss to my lips and drank the entire thing.  At first gulping the now cold dark piss, then slowing to savor the final drops.  His eyes stopped blinking as he watched each second of me gleefully consuming his waste, even giving a small chuckle at the piss burp I vainly attempted to conceal at the end.

 

“Good Boy.” He said.  Moving his booted foot and placing it between my crossed legs, he dug in his heel to open them and then pressed hard on my balls.  “Time to flush” and he leaned forward and spit in my mouth again. He rose from the couch, grabbing my glass, standing nearly full weight on my jean encased scrotum, and then turned and left the room.

 

“STRIP AND GET ON THE BENCH” he barked as he walked away.

 

I furiously removed my clothing pausing only to quickly fold it and place it on the counter top before I bent over the bench, sliding my wrists into the padded rings at the top, and nesting my ankles into the open rings at the bottom.  Resting my head on the face ring clearly taken from a massage table I looked down to see a cupholder shelf directly below me.

 

Without saying anything He returned with another glass of the same dark piss, this time with a lid and straw that when placed in the holder was the perfect height to reach my lips.  He cinched the straps on my wrists and closed the shackles around my ankles, clicking a thick sounding padlock into place on each side.  He walked over to the toy wall and made some unseen selections.  He came back and lifted my head quickly sliding a sensory depravation hood onto me.  It had wireless headphones built in, and I could hear his voice when he wanted me to.  He slid his hands into the waist of my jock and in one slick motion cut the straps right off.  He slid the fabric from under me, returned to the hood and opened the zipper at the mouth.  I heard him say “ Open “ before he shoved the crusty jock I’d worn into my mouth and then closed the zipper.

 

His voice disappeared but music started, a low ominous chanting with a steady dance beat, soft at first with increasing volume and tempo.  I felt the table I was on move somehow and realized that it split where my cock and balls were, felt him slid my cock forward into a sleeve, and placed my balls in his fist.  The squeeze he administered nearly made me scream into my jock.  His fist pulsated, rolling my testicles between his fingers, alternating pressure, moving them from hand to hand until one ball was in each, thumb and forefinger choosing a spot until the rolling stopped and he pressed like he was trying to weld his fingers together with my balls in the middle.  Now I was screaming, I’d never had CBT like this before, most men choosing to swat at them awkwardly or give them half hearted kicks.  I honestly wondered whether or not they would rupture. I bucked and struggled against the restraints, as he kept the pressure steady before he started pulsing his finger to the music I could hear.

 

He let go of them all at once and my tensed body relaxed into a cold sweat.  I felt him slide my balls into what I could only assume was a vice built into the padded Fuck bench, and closed it locking them in.  I felt cold spit land on my exposed ass, and then his rough workman hands slide over my hole working in the small amount of moisture he’d deposited there.  He spit again and then spanked my anus, causing me to jump, then again and again, blows landed on my hole each one taking the pain higher and then without warning jammed three dry fingers into my reddened hole.

 

I screamed out again and saw stars at the assault.  I started to shake from the pain of the invasion, feeling each calloused finger scrape into my walls, and suddenly became aware that the vice my balls were in was jostling freely with the movements of his arm.

 

It dawned on me that the vice was loose, and that every time he fucked his cock into me, it would cause the vice to slam shut with the force of his hips meeting mine, and for the first time I was genuinely terrified.  There was no part of this Fuck that wouldn’t be painful for me.  And with that realization I came, shooting my last neg load into the sleeve, writhing in pain and pleasure of it.

 

His voice became audible again and hearing him chuckling he said

 

“well boy, that’s a first for me.  Usually, when boys figure out how the scrambler works, this is where neg sluts panic and try to run, as if I’d let them.  But you, you’re something special.  I wanted to make this last but you have me so Fucking worked up that I’m going to poz you now boy.  Quick and dirty.  We have all night to use and destroy you right”

 

His voice disappeared and he ripped his hand out of my hole leaving me gaping and gasping for air.  Then another slap on my hole, and another and another before he rammed the thickest cock I’ve ever felt in my life into my hole, and started pounding like a jackhammer.  I started crying, full body sobs wreaked my post orgasm exhausted body.  I wanted to puke and run and kiss him all at the same time.  I released myself into the violence of the near rape and realized that through all of this my cock hadn’t stopped being iron hard.  Wave after wave of pain radiated from my balls, each time he slid the monster cock in and out of my surely now bleeding hole with animalistic savageness.  Minutes passed by as I lost sense of time and physical awareness, the assualt on my balls started to become distant and my ass adjusting to the size of his thrusting meat, my body groaned with hunger as I moved as I could to meet his thrusts, frantically building in intensity.

 

His voice returned over the head phones

 

“This is it boy, making you mine faggot.  My load is viral, unmedicated, and its about to be yours.  Gonna POZ YOU NOW.  Stupid Fucking faggot, runs to a strangers house to get tortured and Pozzed, and we’ve only. Just. BEGUN.”  Thrusting to accent each word.  “Guess what slave, the time is now.  Welcome to the brotherhood” he started screaming, “TAKE MY POZ LOAD FAG BOY, TAKE IT!! TAKE IT!!!”

 

 

I could feel the hot seed firing into my ass, each and every pulse of his cock sent ripples through my whole body, and he collapsed on top of me panting.  Hitting a switch that dropped the vice and sleeve letting my cock and balls free, he reached a hand forward to open the zipper at my mouth and remove the jock.  I drank from the straw greedily, trying to slake the thirst the adrenaline had caused until the glass was empty.

 

After what seemed like a life he raised his sweaty hairy chest off of my back, pulled out of my now destroyed cunt and walked to the head of the bench.  He slid his cock into my mouth allowing me to suck it for the first time, and even though I couldn’t see anything I did my best to clean his cum and my ass juice off of the meat that Pozzed me and that I knew in my core I now loved completely.  I felt him sigh as fresh piss was delivered into my open mouth and swallowed greedily, feeling a contentment unlike any I’d ever known.  This is where I’m meant to be I knew, I’m finally who I want to be.  A urinal, a pain slut, a pozzed up slave.  He removed the hood from me and after releasing the cuffs helped me stand.  He stared deep into my eyes as I struggled to stay upright.

 

With a final full force backhand across the face I fell, feeling consciousness slip away, hearing him say “welcome home boy” as I smiled and passed out.

[chainsmokerpig]

Oh WOW

[dazzasboy]

Absolutely nothing to say about your writing except stunning, please keep writing this is so hot!

[BrisFag]

One of my favourite stories on here. Finally becoming permanently what he is. 

[BigBearSean]

Please tell me there's more.  Not just the sex and abuse, but the training and molding process as well.  I feel like this is the life I always wanted to live but could never find the Master to own me completely.

[satyrbr]

Please, more

[SlampaBay]

Please, please more

[bootedrbrboi4poz]

Yes, please write more...

[plisken]

my dream comming through - please more of this

[k_vine]

I hadn’t intended as my ADD makes writing contingent on inspiration but y’all have been so kind that I may. Stay tuned.