Three Years a Slave: Adjusting the Flesh to the Support. Part thirteen.

After my youngest Owner checked that the structure inside the shed was ready he began to adjust me to the new support.

I had fixed a whole series of iron rings in different positions on the wooden beams to allow for tying in different ways. I could have imagined they would do the same to me.

He tied me to one of the wooden pillars, gagged me so I wouldn't scream and started drilling me.

He used a very thick injection needle, the likes of which I had never seen before, and pierced my huge, grotesque nipples. Piercing the sensitive tits already hurt immensely, but it got even worse when he forced the needle to the sides to widen the hole.

After the tits, the boy pierced right in the middle of my ears; it wasn't in the lobe like they do with earrings; it was right in the middle of them. The holes painfully burst the ears' folds; I felt like they were being ripped apart.

I moaned in despair, I cried profusely, but he continued painfully opening the holes for a long time until he was able to pass through them the steel rings, four-inch rings, at least a quarter of an inch thick.

After he placed the rings, he used a blowtorch to weld them closed permanently.

I had already almost passed out from the painful process and still felt my nipples pulsing extremely painfully when he grabbed my dick.

I struggled in despair, and for the first time, I could test how solid the structure I had built was. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I tried to struggle, the structure didn't even shake. He was able to firmly and calmly hold my immense, thick cock, pierce it and make the same cruel and painful enlargement of the hole to install the steel ring on it.

I spent the night tied to the post and covered in sweat, tears, and blood that oozed abundantly from my open wounds. The steel rings seemed to weigh many kilos! My tits and dick hurt terribly and every hour, my Owner or Toy came to rotate the rings so that they wouldn't stick during the healing process. This process of turning the rings on the wounds hurt so much that I became desperate and shook in panic.

I was tied like that for two days, and I understood that that wooden structure and I were now definitively linked. Me and the wooden beams were now the same thing.

Three Years a Slave: Building a structure is as solid and definitive as my submission. Part twelve.

Building the structure gave me enormous joy. 

I fixed each piece and each ring knowing that I would be tied and chained to them, to be severely beaten and tortured, and this idea made me very horny.

I installed hooks with pulleys that lifted me without difficulty. I could be hung at any point on the structure easily. The structure was solid and sturdy; it would undoubtedly support my weight, even with me squirming and struggling. 

The idea of being so firmly trapped gave me two ideas that I liked. The first is that when firmly tied, a masochist like me can endure torture and pain beyond any of my limits; it is much easier to resist and endure when we are well tied. As if to say - ok, do what you want; I'm tied up here; there's no way to escape. Have as much fun as you want! Forget my limits, think about your fun, and destroy me without mercy!

The second idea that excited me was that the structure was so excellent and well-made that it revealed they intended to keep me there for a long time! I wanted a definitive submission that would last a long time, and that structure indicated that this was also the couple's intention.

It took me weeks, but it was delicious work. I worked excitedly and happily! 

Three Years a Slave: feeling horny building my dungeon. Part eleven.

The day after my arrival, my owner decided I would be kept in a material deposit at the bottom of the house's parcel. It was nothing more than a cramped, windowless, stuffy shed as it was kept away from the home they never wanted to keep me or their new slave there. Their slaves had to stay in the house to be able to serve them and be used whenever they wanted.

The idea of putting me in the shed reinforced the proposal that I would just be a slave for torture and abuse, kept in captivity, always chained.

That's why they bought thick wooden lintels, measuring twelve by twelve centimeters, and ordered me to assemble a structure inside the warehouse, with rings and straps to tie the ropes and chains that would bind me.

Toy helped me a little, but I was the one who sawed, drilled, screwed, and fixed each piece of my cell. In a few days, I carefully assembled the beams that would hang me to be tortured and whipped. My owner followed the work carefully, ensuring the measurements were respected and the structure was rigid and stable.

When Toy and I were working alone, he said - "Pig, you're crazy! You're making your gallows!"

I confess that I worked hard and passionately; I was in a hurry to feel chained to that structure.

I was so horny and happy to go back to work naked and feel like a fucking animal again.

Three Years a Slave: Returning to the Dungeon, meeting Toy. Part ten.

The wealthy couple took me back and ordered their new slave to help me get settled. When we were both alone, the new slave introduced himself.

─ Pig, I'm their Toy, you can call me Toy; that's what they call me, and my previous name doesn't matter anymore.

─ They called me Pig.

─ I know; I think I saw all the videos they filmed of you being tortured.

─ Did they show you?

─ No, but I had to suck their dicks the many times they watched it. They masturbated and got excited watching the videos in which you cried and howled in pain and despair. They really love to see you suffering a lot. I signed a contract with them for three years like you did. But in my agreement with them, I didn't allow them to do the same barbaric things they did to you.

─ Do they watch videos of my torture?

─ Pig, they love watching and re-watching these videos. They love seeing you suffering in despair, so they must be happy to have you back!

I didn't know whether to be happy or scared by this information. Toy added:

─ They were often frustrated with me for not being able to torture myself. My contract only allows them to lock my dick and use my holes mercilessly. Even so, they bite me hard and slap me on the butt and some very violent slaps on the face. I'm thrilled to have you back! I feel safer with them being able to exercise their sadism on you!

─ I'm going to be massacred! I'm fucked!

─ Surely! Sorry for the question, but why did you come back? Are you crazy?

─ I think I'm crazy; I can't deny it. I have always been gay, submissive, and masochistic. But what happened is that for three years, they made me feel like a shit worm; they tortured me as if I were worthless shit, and they despised and tortured me with such cruelty and violence as if I were worth absolutely nothing. They did this so many times that I agreed that this is who I am, what I am, that this is my place and role in the world. I can no longer present myself to someone as a human being; I no longer feel like a human being; I feel like an impostor, pretending to be something I'm not.

─ Dude, look, I'm the same age as you; at most, I'm as old as you were when you came here three years ago, but today you look much older than me. You look like a monster, with that pig nose and those grotesque, deformed tits and balls. You won't last much longer being tortured like you will be.

─ It's true, Toy; I know that even worse because they won't have to respect any limits this time. I know that it will be my end.

─ Well, anyway, welcome, Pig, I'm glad you're back! We won't be friends, but I'll try to make you last as long as possible! I don't want you to disappear or die. It will be better and safer for me if they have you around to torture.