The Story of Indio

And believe you, Hooks, I had a job ahead of me. We had these real expensive Wedgwood plates, and carrying one in my mouth hurt my teeth, because they were so delicate. First thing I drop one and have to end up licking cigarette butts and pieces of anchovy off the floor, and it took me nearly four hours to carry each of the plates to the garbage can and shake them.

And of course then came all the licking of the disgusting pieces of dried gum, butts, joints and dirty food off each of the plates. But I became amazingly limber at dropping the glasses into the dishwasher with my teeth...and I did an adequate job..but Indio gave me a nasty thrashing anyway..."

Even after twenty years. Sipple looked sick when he told me that story. But I could see a nice little bulge in his pants, anyway.

Sipple also told me that Indio had made him carry his balls around in the Crusher for a week, which had been rather distressing in class, where the big cylinder was almost ripping through his chinos.

After Sip complained too much, Indio actually pushed his cock inside the Crusher as well, and forbade him to go to the bathroom all day. Sip told me that at one point he was sitting on the toilet in the public restroom at school crying.

Crying because instead of his comforting genitals, he had this big ugly silver thing between his legs, and he didn't have room enough to pee...Sip had actually rushed home and taken off his clothes and danced around with the horrible Crusher between his legs, like a little boy who couldn't hold it, and had to anyway.

"Swinging between my legs, Hooks, the Crusher kept knocking me down, hitting one leg so I slipped and then I'd get up and dance around again, until by the time Indio got home, I was just lying on the living room floor, crying and holding my genitals. It was pure, unadulated hell."

Finally Sip had had to beg Indio at the end of the day to release him, and Indio had made him write "Pride Goeth Before a Fall" 500 times before Indio released him. And of course he'd not made it to the bathroom, and had peed all over his mother's expensive Oriental rug...my my.

Indio was disappointed at how weakly Sip had reacted to the Crusher, especially when it came to urine retention training. "Your bladder is spoiled, Sip" Indio advised his roommate, once again affixing The Crusher to Sip's cock and balls.

Indio made sure that the Crusher had sufficiently squished Sip's genitalia completely. Indilo could never stop laughing when he watched Sip stand in front of him, naked with a big stainless steel (and he made Sip polish it) cylinder swinging between his legs.

Sip preferred it when Indio just crushed the balls and he had his cock out, because then he could go to the bathroom, and it wasn't quite as painful...but Indio was not one to shirk his duty, and Sipple had what Indio called "lazy bladder syndrome"

Before Indio had locked the Crusher on Sip he'd teased Sip's cock to an almost bursting erection, and then he'd suddenly shut the poor penis inside the Crusher, and locked it up quickly.

"Yes, everything about your groin is spoiled." Indio said complacently.

"You jerk off when you want to, you fuck these unfortunate girls and leave them..."

As Inido said "them" he kicked the Crusher and made it swing between Sip's legs, which caused Sip to have both incredible pain to his penis and testes, AND a near loss of balance.

"And then you drink all this beer, this schnapps, this whiskey...and pee all over the place. How many times have I made you lick your urine up from around the toilet because you missed your aim, Sipple?" Indio shook his head and folded his arms.

But then he suddenly kicked The Crusher once more, harder, and Sip fell over. Sip tumbled, the heavy Crusher swung between his legs and then swung up, hitting him on the stomach as Sip lay on his back, gasping.

Indio found this rather amusing. "Look how upset you are, Sipple. And think, my Master Eugene used to put me through so much more than this. Once we stole a catheter from the Boysville infirmary.

Eugene bound me with my wrists tied behind my head, and a piece of surgical tubing gripped in my teeth.

It ran from a keg of beer to the retention catheter in my bladder. I'd try to keep from drinking the beer, but whenever I relaxed my mouth, the beer would go down my throat until I clenched my teeth over it.

And as the beer went down my throat, my bladder began filling with urine, and I couldn't pee, because of the catheter.

Sip, I had to try to keep my teeth clenched over the tube to keep the beer from entering, but then I'd forget, and get more beer, and my bladder became fuller and fuller." Indio laughed as he watched Sip's eyes widen as he finished the story.

"By the day's end, I was dead drunk and my kidneys felt like they were going to explode. And then, Eugene took the tube off the empty keg, did a reattachment on my penis, and I had to pee all the urine down my throat and drink it, which sobered me up admirably."

"And think, Sipple, when Eugene did this to me, I was only twenty years old, and here you are, a big, strong, twenty-one year old man, and you can't take a little urine retention?" Indio shook his head.

"You're a pathetic creature, Sip. But don't you want me to train you to be a good slaveboy?"

Sipple nodded avidly. "Master Indio, I do benefit tremendously from your training, Sir. It's just that this Crusher business might be a bit too much for me, Sir." Sip got back up and stood there again, the Crusher swinging between his legs. "I just can't get used to the pain!"

Indio shook his head again, sorrowfully. "Sip, I don't think it's gonna work out between us. You just aren't a true masochist...you're not really a submissive, you're more of a dilletante. Maybe we should just be roommates."

Indio watched as Sip dropped to his knees, which of course made the Crusher hit the ground and bounce back up into his crotch. After Sip bit his lip from the horrible sensation, he spoke. "Please, Indio, don't give up on me. This is the best life I've ever had, Sir. I don't want anything else. I'm willing to give up all I have for this."

And it was true, Sip had given up a lot. Although it was a three bedroom apartment they lived in, Sip was forced to spend most of his time at home in only one room...and when Indio didn't need him, and when Sip wasn't studying, he often was regaled to the closet in that room.

Sip spent hours in the closet, waiting for Indio's next command. And he didn't seem to complain that much, even though Indio gave Sip vicious canings and tawsings for the smallest mistakes in housework or academic studies.

Sip felt as if he was finally getting the discipline he needed, that in a world of countless choices, many of the choices were being removed so he would be a bit less confused.

As Indio saw the tears in Sip's eyes, he began to feel somewhat moved. "All right, but you're going to have to train harder, Sip. You must be ready for whatever I give you."

Sip nodded eagerly, and Indio instructed Sip to stand with one foot on a dining room chair. As Sip did this, Indio gently moved his other leg so that his legs were wide, and the Crusher was hanging between his foot on the floor and the foot on the chair.

Indio went into the other room and brought out a cane, a broomstick and a steel Louisville Slugger, and put them on the table, retaining only the cane.

"Now then, Sip. I want you to stand as erect as you can manage, while I put you through some paces." Sip's face was dead white as he nodded. (And I don't blame him. If I'd been Sip and saw that Louisville Slugger, I'd have jumped out the window, naked with the Crusher.)

Indio bent the cane, a nice rattan jobbie, and looked at Sip. "Were you ever caned at school?" Indio asked as he bent and then took practice swings with the cane.

Sip shook his head. "No, Master. I went to a very progressive boarding school,and we were given counseling when we screwed up." Indio chortled.

"Well, we see how well that's done you." Indio lifted the cane and swung it against Sip's nipples, hitting them hard. Sip jumped, and the weight of the Crusher pulled him down on the floor. Sip lay there, holding his nipples and crying.

Indio sighed. "As you were." Sip got up and put his one foot on the chair again. This time, Indio swung the cane against the Crusher, and it wobbled, and then stood still.

"How was that, Sip?" Indio asked kindly. He could tell that Sip wasn't doing all that well.

"It-it was painful, but all right." Sip answered. His balls were in incredible pain, mushed as they were against his cock in the Crusher. The cane had inflamed things a bit, but Sip was determined to be a man about it. Sip breathed easily again. "I'm ready for more, Sir..whenever you are."

Later after Indio's funeral in 1990, Sip told me that this was the beginning of his mental health. "All my life I'd been indulged" Sip told me. "Given whatever I wanted, a pony at six, motor scooters and minibikes by ten or eleven...and I'd get ticketed for riding them madcap in the street, and a cop would take them away, and my parents would buy me new ones.

I insulted servants and teachers, and never paid any kind of price...and yet I was miserable, and had been in therapy since third grade, and was in two drug rehabilitation centers for heroin abuse after my junior year of prep school. But Indio's training changed everything.

All my life I'd just wanted peace of mind, and Indio as my Master gave me that...all I'd ever wanted was to think one thought at a time, and after six months with Indio, my mind stopped racing!

I never needed therapy again, and when Indio broke up with me, he introduced me to Doris, my dominatrix wife, and she's kept me in line since...but I was scared the first couple of days." Sip had grinned at me that time, and I bet it was difficult.

Twenty years before, standing in front of Indio, with the foot on the chair, Sip said again in a shaking voice, "Whatever you need to do to me, Master."

Indio had grinned and had tossed the cane on the table, and picked up the sawed off broom handle. He swung it hard, and it slammed against the Crusher, but Sip stood firm. Indio hit it three more times, and though tears came into Sip's eyes from the excruciating pain, he stood still and took it!

Then came the Louisville Slugger...and Sip fell down nine or ten times before he could stand tall for the swing and the BAAAANG of steel hitting steel. That night when Indio took off the Crusher cylinder, Sip's balls were black and blue, and his penis was covered in blood...but his Master was quite proud of him.

So Sipple began wearing the heavy Crusher all the time for a while. He was allowed to urinate into the toilet in the morning, and then he'd turn to Indio. Indio would give Sip a long, probing tongue kiss, massaging his nipples, and then he'd play with Sip's cock with his skillful fingers until Sip was gasping and begging to cum...Indio then would jam Sip into the Crusher.

After he'd turned the Crusher completely so it squished Sip;s hard cock and balls, Sip would fall to his knees, crying. "Oh Master! I love you Master, but it's almost too much!" This would go on for a bit, which was why Indio always started Sip's procedure early enough so he could get to school on time. Indio did try to be comforting.

The Crusher was good for preventing all sorts of slave "mischief". With it on over his cock and balls, Sip couldn't pee, get an erection, or fuck anyone else.

Indio considered the Crusher his best purchase, though he'd charged it to Sip's student account as "library fines."

Sip then had to sit through classes all day and try not to let the Crusher be seen, and he tried to find looser and looser pants.

Twice Sip ripped his expensive pants in class when the heavy Crusher bounced too hard, and he had to run home before anyone saw the stainless steel cylinder peeking through the rips in his Chinos.

Finally, Indio gave Sip an old pair of heavy janitor's coveralls. For some peculiar reason he'd taken them after the Boysville maintenance man, Augustus, had died. They were too big for the five foot seven Indio, but Sip was about Augustus's size, so they fitted nicely.

They were big grey things, these coveralls, that covered Sip'e entire body, he had to step into it int he morning and pull it over his shoulders. But it did hold the Crusher in place.

Sip had always been something of a fashion plate, representing the more conservative students as the rest of the kids were busy growing their hair and protesting the Vietnam war.

The coveralls were absolutely hideous, and Sip didn't like wearing them. What was worse, the name "Gus" was stitched on the breast.

Sip's old friends from prep school began calling him "Gus" and what could Sip do? He had to take it smiling, as he was "choosing" to wear these horrible things.

And the counterculture kids liked it, and Sip learned true humility, if not humiliation, by bouncing around the Georgetown campus in overalls.

Sip began conversing with the hippie kids, and realized what a hypocrite he was to have a father on the draft board who'd given all his sons and cousins exemptions while sending blue-collar kids into the war.

One day, Daisy, a cute little hippie girl was so thrilled by Sip that she gave him a big, wet, deep kiss, and invited him over to his dorm room. Sip learned the benefits of fidelity, while making out with Daisy on her bed...his erection kept trying to grow in the vicious Crusher and it was so painful that he finally burst into tears and ran out of Daisy's dorm.

After this, even the hippies seemed to give Sip a bit of a berth. But Sip was learning discipline still,and Master Indio was quite proud of him, which was all that mattered.

Sip was able to calculate now just how much he could drink all day so he wouldn't feel as if his kidneys were going to explode. Sip often walked around campus during the day, just wetting his mouth at drinking fountains to keep off thirst.

Sometimes Sip would wet a washcloth and suck on it, promoting his friends to say, wittily "Take a sip, Sip."

In time, Indio felt it was time to go a little further in Sipple's training, and wanted to start being creative.

"What the hell are you doing, Indio?" Sip asked one morning as Indio bent over his genitals with a cotton swab."I am swabbing your urethra with a bit of Ben-Gay." replied Indio.

As Sip felt the sensation on his piss hole, he began howling in pain. Indio slapped Sip, hard, and he shut up.

"Enough, Sip. I am trying to make you the best slave you can be, and you thwart me at every turn." Indio said in a grieved tone. "Now be silent. I am rubbing a little tabasco sauce on your balls. I think you need more sensation in the Crusher. You seem so used to just being crushed."

Sip's day at school was unbearable,as he kept grabbing his inflamed crotch, then remembering that the Crusher prevented his hands from doing any real comforting to his inflamed, imprisoned cock and balls. Could it get any worse?

The next day was Saturday, and Indio got Sip up early, and bound him to a kitchen chair. Sip watched Indio, as his Master put on a pair of latex gloves.

"We are fortunate to live next door to a couple that grows habaneros hot peppers." Indio said, as he cut the pepper open.

"They're rather stingy, so that's why I'm wearing these gloves that I borrowed from the Georgetown Medical School."

Sip writhed in his bonds and watched Indio's hands in the latex gloves as Indio ran his fingers inside the hot pepper until he'd gotten the gunk out, and was rubbing it between his fingers. "What's with the corncob?" asked Sip nervously.

"Creativity, my Sipple. Lift up your butt, thank you." Sip screeched as the stinging corncob was shoved into his rectum. There was plenty of room there, as Indio had loosened Sip's rectum with dildoes, cucumbers, and once a rolling pin. After Indio had gotten the corn cob up Sip's ass, he also shoved in a butt-plug, to ensure that the cob wouldn't fall out.

Sip felt as if his asshole was on fire, or perhaps in a nuclear explosion. Yes, it was Hiroshima in his anus, all over again. Then Indio went to the bathroom and brought back two Johnson's Band-aids, and he rubbed peppers on each of the gauze pads, taping each Band-aid over one of Sip's nipples. Sip forgot his anus for a moment as his nipples began to scream in pain.

Indio was not done yet. No, not Indio. His pepper covered gloves rubbed about under each of Sip's arms, in Sip's mouth and behind each of Sip's knees...and then wandered up to Sipple's crotch.

Sipple howled more as Indio ran his pepper stained gloves around Sip's cock, doing the entire shaft and shoving a bit of pepper in the urethra.

Sip bit his lip until he nearly bled as Indio massaged Sip's testicles with hot peppers, and suddenly it was worse.

Indio locked the Crusher on Sip as well, fully locking it until Sip's pepper infested penis and testicles were once again squooshed.

Now Sip's entire body was basked in horrific pain. But Indio was nothing if not compassionate.

He said kindly. "The good news is, your exams are over and it's Saturday, and I'll turn the TV on while you become accustomed to this new sensation. Would you like to watch Gilligan's Island or My Favorite Martian?"

Within a week, Sip was able to barely tolerate his new regimen of peppers, and then came the hair shirt.

What's a hair shirt, you ask? A hair shirt is made out of sewed together horse hair, that is worn next to the skin as a penance, usually by monks of the 15th century.

Somehow, Indio had gotten hold of one, and made Sip wear it under his shirt. This apparently was horrible, as it covered poor Sip with countless itching stings...it seemed as if he'd had the worst haircut of his life, and it was all under his shirt.

This,combined with the excruciating pain in his genitals, seemed to be levelling poor Sip, but he was determined to make it to school anyway. Sip was still wearing the Band-aids soaked in hot peppers on his nipples as well, so he must've just been in a world of hurt.

But as he adjusted to it, Sip found a new and interesting challenge to concentrate in class. Wearing a hair shirt, pepper covered genitals, nipples and anus, and of course the Crusher made it quite a feat to focus on differential equations or the finer points of Beowulf.

"But I'd always had attention deficit problems" Sip told me later after Indio's 1990 funeral. "

And it was actually good for me to intensify my focus in the classroom while my crushed cock and balls, and nipples and asshole were stinging to high heaven, and I was itching all over with the damn hairshirt. And now and then Indio would throw in Ben Gay in the Crusher as well.

But it sure cured me of being easily distracted by dropping a pencil or girl-watching. Later, after Indio took the Crusher off and removed my other sensory punishments, my attention was so good from the constant fight against the pain that I was easily able to make straight A's and got into one of the best MBA programs in the nation." After a time, Indio began to feel sorry for Sipple, and removed the peppers and the hair shirt

But the Crusher stayed in his life for quite a while, as Indio was fascinated by the different challenges that Sip's cock and balls could take.

Soon after this, Sip and Indio drove out to his great-aunt's farm in northern New Jersey. After having a hearty breakfast with the old lady, who was impressed with Indio's knowledge of classical music, the boys went out to the barn.

Indio looked thoughfully at the beam running horizontally across the ceiling--a sort of rafter.

Sip felt a bit nervous, and he had reason to be, for within twenty minutes, he was naked, except for the Crusher, and hanging from the rafter by a pair of handcuffs.