He started coming here at home when we made contact through the cell phone app; he was a "masochistic pig" seeking a sadistic man. Since the first meeting, the rules were clear; as soon as he came into my house, he was on all fours and naked. I used to whip him violently, rape him, and he sucked my cock lovingly and sweetly. We never talked, and I never wanted to have a relationship with him or to know his life or ideas. I never knew even his age. I don't remember his voice, nor can I tell if he has an accent or speaks correctly. I imagined that he was penniless, his hands calloused, his clothes simple, old, and often dirty with paint and dust; his manners made me think he was really lower class, without studies and a miserable family. Indeed he was a spartan bricklayer, worker, porter, or janitor, one of those despicable workers, some common scum.
I love to whip him very hard; I get very excited when I make his back hurt and bleed. He is ugly, short, muscular, solid, and silent but bravely resists the most violent blows without complaint, almost without moving. My cock gets very hard during the whole spanking; when my arms get tired, I brutally stuff it in his ass and throat, but I only come when he licks and sucks sweetly until he swallows every drop of my cum.
I never let him come. If he got excited, I would squeeze and twist his balls until the dick softened.
At first, he used to come once a week, then three or four times a week, until I proposed - "pig" I want you to live here in my house! I want you to abandon your life and become my fixed slave; I support you. Bring all your things and start living here with me permanently.
He simply, without question, obeyed. The next day, he brought an old, dirty, small suitcase with clothes, documents, and a cell phone. He must have been really poor. I threw all his clothes, glasses, cell phone, papers, and photographs in the trash bag. I kept only the most essential documents and nothing more. I didn't want him to bring his history, identity, affections, or memories; I just wanted the body, its flesh, its holes, and obedience.
I saw his eyes filling with tears when I broke his glasses and his cell phone and tore up the pictures before throwing them in the trash.
He was still crying as I put the gag and collar around his neck.
Now, he's been mine for almost ten years. My friends and cleaner are already used to this pig walking around the house on all fours.
The routine is simple, it sleeps on the hard floor and eats the leftover food from the house mixed with dog food. Only I can remove its gag; I only remove it for him to eat and suck me; the rest of the time, it is always gagged. That is, it hasn't spoken in years.
Virtually every day, I whip him hard. This excites me, amuses me, and reiterates that it belongs to me as a slave or as an object or a toy. Its body is permanently injured, scarred, and bleeding.
Once a week, on Saturdays, I wash him as if anyone washes his animal in the house's backyard, using the water hose, hard brushes, and soap. I make bathing a painful and violent experience. I dig deep the brushes and soap through the holes I regularly penetrate, mouth and ass. I rub with sadism and force the healing wounds to reopen all injuries.
I believe that my asshole fag likes to be mine, that somehow, in its own way, it is happy and fulfilled in becoming my animal. Often it gets excited when it is whipped; its cock gets hard to denounce its excitement. It cannot masturbate, let alone come without my permission.
So, once a month, I masturbate to him personally. After one of the beatings with whips, I use the pliers to crush and twist its nipples and balls. The whole process is long and time-consuming, cruel, and must be very painful. It cries a lot and groans, feeling each part of the body crushed with force and twisted by the pliers.
I just stop torturing him when it comes and spills all his cum on the floor. At no time does the fag run away or try to protect himself from my pliers. The stupid worm just moans, cries, and squirms from the brutal pain and looks me in the eye with his look of suffering and pain, sweetly and lovingly.
I know that it adores me, that it accepts my domination, my rules, surrendering happily to fulfill the destiny of an inferior fagot like him.
It indeed pleases me, but I have no affection for him.
I have already talked to my friends, lawyers, police, and judges.
One day, for pleasure or boredom, I can kill it by beating, suffocating, or poisoning it. I'll put it in the car's trunk and throw the garbage in some river.
One evening I was talking to a friend about how I intended to get rid of my toy while it sucked the visitor's cock sitting on the sofa. My friend looked at the pig, laughing, and asked - fag do you know that? That one day, you will be slaughtered and thrown in the trash?
Without taking the visitor's dick out of his mouth, it looked up, eye to eye, and nodded. And it went back to sucking my friend's cock carefully and lovingly.
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