The Twelve Days of Kinkmass

"Have you explained the rules to your new sister, twenty three?" Morphail said.

"Yes, Master," the slave said.

"Both of you join the circle, then," Morphail said. They did. The other slaves shifted into an equidistant ring and took a few steps forwards towards the centre. Morphail raised his hand when he was happy with their positions then touched the iPod and a squelchy synth bassline began to fill the air. Shawna faced away from Morphail and began to twerk, wondering if his whip would feel even half as bad as it looked.

...Twelve Lords A-Leaping...

"Well, slave," she said, "you've not even managed to last a whole fortnight of chastity before begging for this. I can't say I'm very impressed." She wore a red rubber catsuit, matching black leather thighboots and opera gloves, and a braided leather belt with a small bag on one side. She held a crop in one hand and her smile was as cold as the winter night outside the first Iron and Gold fetish night of the new year.

He wriggled in the steel pillory and stocks he was fastened into. There was a thin bench under his abdomen, with his feet spread wide behind and below him. The piece of furniture had been carefully crafted to keep his mouth and anus both at a level that made them easily accessible.

"Stop squirming. You know why we're here, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," he said. His voice trembled and her smile grew.

"So tell me," she said. She spread her arms and gestured with her crop. "Tell everybody."

"We're here because your slave wants its ass fucked, Mistress."

"Does it? Is it a faggot, then?"

"Yes, Mistress." He was glad that she'd hooded him. The rubber hood bared his eyes and mouth, but still hid most of his face. She walked forwards and lifted his chin with the end of her crop, then removed the crop, held his eyes and spit in his face.

"You're a faggot cocksucker who wants his ass pounded to jelly," she said. "Tell everyone."

"I'm a faggot cocksucker and I want my ass fucked," he shouted to the club at large. "Please wreck my ass."

She walked behind him and gave him a good one with the crop. "All yours, boys!" she shouted. "Come and get him and fuck him good and hard."

He watched her back retreating into the club as the first pair of hands grabbed his hips and the first cock began to press its way into his lubricated anus. It hurt, and the cock didn't seem to be long enough to reach his prostate. He wondered how long it would take before somebody thrust a tool big enough to coax his prostate into a discharge up him. He could be here all night.

The first cock of the night pulsed inside him, and its owner leapt down off the podium the bondage rig he was locked into. He wondered if the guy had airpunched over breaking an anal cherry, or at least putting the first cock that wasn't a strap on up it bareback. The next cock's owner leapt up, and he felt fingers up his bum before this one began to bugger him. The dick felt longer, and he was starting to adjust to the sawing pain and full feeling, and thrust back into the cock in his arse, trying to shove his prostate as close to its head as he could.

He was determined that he was going to have his first analgasm tonight, even if he had to have every cock in the club, or even a few hands, up his anus first. He hoped that his Mistress would enjoy the show.