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"What did you do?"
Balfor asked him this out of the blue, dropping the interrogation without any introduction or context to clarify its meaning. He often did this sort of thing, it was as if since he lived so much in his own mind, he expected everyone to be able to read it. The sudden question had attacked the silence of the void with God-like clarity and was still resounding in the echoing cave acoustics. "What did I do, sir?" Asked Terry, wondering how Balfor had known that he was awake. "What did you do that destroyed your self respect? What did you do to make you hate yourself so much? Why do you lap up all the punishment I can dish out with almost no resistance or complaint?" Terry was astounded at Balfor's insight. It was as if his master could read his soul like a book. Prostrate in the pitch dark of the night time cave, darkness inside darkness, he felt more naked than naked. He did not want to answer the question but he knew he had better do so and honestly. "I think I killed someone sir. An old man. It was about four and a half years ago. I was with a gang then. We used to go out gay bashing. This old guy, at first we thought he was gay, then we weren't sure, he was just sort of too nicely dressed. We bashed him and we got carried away and just kept bashing. Like a bunch of animals. I was the worst of them. The horror of it got me I suppose; afterwards I mean. I still get nightmares." "You hate yourself because of this- poofter bashing?" "Yes sir. Now I know that I'm the poof." "I see. You only think you killed this old fellow?" "He had a fit, like a death rattle, and he wasn't breathing right when we left him. We really fucked him up. There was so much blood." Terry was near crying to remember this. "If you were in the kind of gang that would do something like that, there must have been other similar incidences." "Yes sir, there were." "What was so horrible about this particular one?" "You'll probably laugh. But it's not funny. The old guy. He looked like Santa Clause. It was like my gang bashed Santa to death... It was funny while we did it, we laughed like hyenas about it; but afterwards I couldn't get it out of my head. It was like, the end of Christmas. The end of anything possibly ever being nice or good again. The gang broke up after that, we couldn't look at each other. " Balfor didn't laugh. He now knew he had the necessary hook with which to secure Terry's teeth. He could remove them now without the inconvenience that undue resentment might cause. All he had to do was tie the concept of Santa to the concept of teeth in Terry's mind. "Maybe it was because he looked like Santa that you got carried away. Maybe you took your frustrations about all the disappointing Christmases out on him." "How did you know my Christmases were disappointing?" "Oh come on, it's written all over you. The first thing I noticed about you was that you had the starved dog look of someone who doesn't know what it feels like to get what they want." There was a long silence while Terry's eyes filled up with tears of self pity. He had never felt so lowly and miserable. He thought he had put up such an effective front. To be stripped so utterly bare this way was killing him. He could always go and drown himself when Balfor had fallen asleep, he thought. "Don't feel bad about it Terry. I like the starved look. Spoiled brats who walk around with their noses in the air like they own the world, I would just as soon kill them as look at them. You've got the hungry earnestness about you that I love. The pared back basic simplicity." Terry burst with new happiness, he had lovable hungry earnestness. "There's just one thing I need to do and then you'll be perfect for my needs until we get off this fly shit of an island." Balfor continued. "What's that sir?" "I like deep throat, but I don't like teeth." "Sir?" "I think it ought to absolve you of the sin of killing that Santa of yours if you consent to letting me remove your teeth..." Terry's stomach sank like a stone somewhere into the abyss. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. In the darkness of the cave, his senses were deprived of any input which might have diluted the raw impact of the concept of giving up his teeth for Balfor. Could he do it? More to the point was there any way that he could avoid having Balfor do it to him anyway? Probably not. "All my teeth sir?" "Of course. You don't want them to scrape on my cock do you?" "No sir." "Good. It's settled then. In a couple of weeks when you're fully better, I'll break all your teeth out, and then you can like yourself, because it will mean you have atoned for your part in the killing. Deal?" "Yes sir. Thank you sir." How was he saying these words? Where did they come from? Did he mean them? Was there any way off this island? Why was being so subservient giving him such a rampant erection? Why did he find it so hard to care at all that he was being manipulated in this blatant way? What was sex anyway? What did it mean? How could he be so pleased to have an opportunity like this to prove his devotion? How could he have fallen so deeply in love with such a monster? Would he really feel better about the horror of his Santa bashing once Balfor had taken his teeth? Probably not. He tried to go back to sleep. Balfor had said that there were a couple of weeks to go before he would "break" out his teeth. What with? How painful would it be - worse than what he had already been through? Was that possible? How was he going to eat? His head swam. He had only just started to play with the idea of being a eunuch and now this. The maggots had finished with him by now and there was just a suppurating scabby pink sore where his balls used to be. His cock which was still too raw to jerk off, only got half as big as it used to when erect, because of the inflexibility of the new scar tissue. It was turning into a useless ropy looking lump. He had a very uncomfortable hard on right now. He could feel it pulsing in the darkness like the tapping foot of a person who'd waited too long to see the doctor. Or actually the dentist, he thought ruefully.
It's amazing how quickly a couple of weeks can pass. A thin, tan and nutless Terry was sitting on a rock at the trap bashing a fish to death, commiserating with himself about being stuck on this island and missing Peter Jackson's J.R.R.Tolkien's "Return of the King," when suddenly Balfor appeared, huge and magnificent in his hairy muscular nakedness as usual. He had a stick in his hand which had been whittled into the pointed shape of an incised chisel. In the other hand he had a fist sized rock. Terry was incredulous. He didn't know what this was about. Then suddenly he remembered. "Oh." "Yes it's time. Over there near the log between those trees should be a good place to start. It's nice and shady. Follow me. Just remember Santa." Terry followed him. There was no where to run to. He remembered the pathetic form of the old bearded man rolling under their legs as he and the rest of his gang stomped on him. Terry deserved to have Balfor knock out his teeth. He was glad of it. He would happily give up his rotten teeth for a chance to atone. That's what he told himself to stay calm. "I think just lie down on your back, open up and well see how it goes." Balfor was obviously looking forward to this, his cock was swelling. The tip of its head was crowning slightly as the foreskin rolled back over it. His balls were rolling up and hairy scrotum was sliding around all over them. Terry lay down on his back and opened his mouth. Balfor positioned the neatly crafted wooden chisel. Terry felt it resting against one of his lower incisors. "We can only do three or four teeth a day otherwise you might lose a dangerous amount of blood. This is going to be daily thing for, lets see how many teeth are there in a human head? Thirty two? Well it's going to more than a week anyway. Let's start." With surprising speed and accuracy, Balfor knocked out three of Terry's lower front teeth. The agony was terrible. As Balfor hammered, Terry screamed and squealed. Terry's whole jaw had been jarred by the blows as if he had been punched in the face. Tears welled in his eyes. Blood poured onto the sand as he spat out the teeth and gore. "Oh I forgot. Put this in your mouth and bite down on it." Balfor handed him a wad of soft papery bark. He had prepared a row of such wads and they were lined up on a shelf formed by a wide split in the large log, like items on the shelf of a dispensary. Balfor gathered the teeth and carefully positioned them in a groove he had made in the log next to the wads of bark. "Three teeth for today." he said.
When Terry had positioned the wad in his mouth and had bitten down on it for about an hour or so, Balfor sitting next to him on the log, Balfor said "You want to know what this patch of hair on my shoulder is don't you. I haven't seen you looking at it, because it's on my back, but I know you've noticed. You're just too scared to ask aren't you." "Yesh shir" said Terry through his teeth clamped on the wad. He had indeed wondered about the dark oval shaped shadow of dense black head hair that had begun to show on the back of Balfor's deeply tanned right shoulder like an enormous hairy mole, connected by a curved isthmus of curlier hair to the now shaggy hair line of his head where it spiked out at the nape of his neck. "It's the remainder of an almost totally absorbed conjoined twin. Do you know what that is?" "Short of Shiamese?" Of all the surreal moments that Terry had been through lately, this was absolutely taking the prize. This man had just knocked out his teeth because his cock was too fat be accommodated in a human mouth, and now they were bonding over birth defects as if this sort of thing happened every day. "Exactly, a siamese twin, except that my embryo ate his embryo in the womb. All that's left of him is a patch of scalp skin fused to my shoulder. There was sort of part of an ear there when I was small but that was surgically removed. Normally I keep him shaved and nobody knows about him, but obviously I can't do anything about shaving here on the island, and so he's starting to show." "Thlank you for telling me shir. I wash wondering. I shaw it two daysh ago" "Sometimes people notice the change in the texture of the skin. It's shinier. I just tell them it's an old burn. For some reason they get really creeped out if they find out that my body ate its identical twin in the womb. People are funny like that. You'll cope though, with the weirdness. I trust you'll be able to do so." "Yesh shir." "Do you want to touch it?" Balfor leaned over so that Terry could run his fingers through the short hair. It felt like a scalp, only less hard. It was like a very flat furry animal stuck to Balfor's shoulder. "I have no feeling there you know. The nerves from that skin don't go anywhere... You're a little bit creeped out aren't you Terry." "Yesh shir, only a little bit." Terry was extremely creeped out. Slightly by Balfor's weird hairy patch, but mostly he was just creeped out by the whole scene. The lonely sound of the beach. His teeth in Balfor's hand. (He'd taken them back off the shelf and was toying with them) The pain. The blood. His life. It didn't make a whole lot of sense to Terry that Balfor would hide his congenital deformity that way, it would seem more in keeping with his sadistic personality to revel in inflicting the bizarreness of it on people; but then he realised that he had carried the thing on his back since earliest childhood. It suddenly dawned on Terry that Balfor had probably been bitterly alone as a child, shunned because of his deformity and to be reminded every day by a hairy patch on your shoulder that you had absorbed a twin who might otherwise have kept you company must have been a terrible thing to bear. Of course he had kept the hair shaved off. His sanity probably depended on it, but then again how sane was he exactly? He did refer to a patch of hair on his shoulder as "him" Perhaps Balfor had been kept company by his twin in a way after all. "Terry, I haven't been drinking a whole lot of water today do you know why?" "No shir." "Piss is a very good disinfectant that's why, and the more concentrated it is the better. I'm going to put some very concentrated piss in your mouth now. You will not get rid of it until you've held it in your mouth as long as possible do you understand? Once you have, I'll give you the choice of drinking it if you want, or spitting it out." "Yesh shir." Balfor took out the wad of bark, stood in front of the kneeling Terry and released some dark, very stinky piss into his mouth. Terry's cheeks bulged with it but he did as he was told, swilling the more than usually nauseating piss around inside his mouth, the stench of it almost stinging his nostrils. Balfor pushed him over onto his stomach. He was rapidly gaining a rampant erection and was very anxious to do something about it, but he was considerate enough to start opening Terry's arse up a little with some finger work first. "I think you're healed enough now to handle some of this eh?" Then moved by the site of Terry's pair of neat, tan buns parting as he pushed his hands over them, he got on top and pushed his cock deep in with no further thought or consideration for Terry's comfort. Terry bucked and hammered his fists, tears streaming down his cheeks from the tooth pain in his piss filled mouth and the sudden shock from the splitting of his arse hole. "You keep swilling that piss, understand?" "Mmmph Mmph" Balfor started pumping in and out, looking down at the glorious sight of his own rampant rod, gnarled with bulging veins going up and down between Terry's dry young buns, tan and smooth and round. Terry whimpered, dribbling piss. "Yeah it hurts doesn't it." Said Balfor. "You poor thing. That's why I have to have both your holes to use, otherwise it'll just be too much for you." After he got over the initial shock, the pleasure of having Balfor inside him again began to eclipse all the other pains he had just suffered. His little cock, still very sore though almost healed now, hardened and plowed the sand as Balfor pummeled him. Balfor had been right about him in the darkness of the cave two weeks ago. When he had gone on board the "Bren" he did not know how it felt to get what he wanted. But he knew now. He wanted Balfor, and he was getting Balfor. Lots of Balfor. Deep and hard. He wanted this total self annihilating pleasure deep inside him to go on forever. Balfor pulled out and took Terry in his arms and held him for a moment. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" Balfor suddenly scolded, pushing him away. "Mmph." Terry had merely moved to brush some sand off his cock. "Then why are you playing with yourself?" "Mm..." "If I catch you playing with yourself again I'll cut it off and watch you bleed to death; then I'll barbecue you and have a feast and feed the leftovers to the fish. Do you doubt that I would actually do that?" "Terry shook his head." With horror he realized that he really did not doubt it. "Good."... "Now swallow or spit out and I'll fill you up again." Terry wasn't stupid enough to spit out. He swallowed, got down on his knees and opened up for more. Balfor was pleased. The third time Balfor fucked him that day Terry, with a yet another mouthful of piss, blew a load cum into the sand without touching himself at all. Explosions of pleasure and pain erupted inside him as Balfor filled up his arse and pounded his prostate and literally pushed the cum out of him. If this was to be the way of things he would not mind so much never touching himself again.
Eight days later, when most of his teeth were gone, and he could no longer bite things with his side teeth, Terry was planning to squash some fish and berries onto a rock and lick the mess off to get some sustenance when suddenly Balfor came up from behind and kissed him, pushing a wad of chewed food into his mouth with his tongue. Balfor held Terry's tender jaw and nostrils shut with his hands and watched his face, amused as his slave tried to control his retching. "Swallow." He said. "Mmp Mmmp!" Said Terry panicking, eyes bright and wild, the tone of his mumble indicating that the words under his closed lips had been "I can't!" "Swallow. If you spit it out I'll burn the rest of your cock with a stick from the fire." Terry, realizing his predicament, concentrated hard to imagine that he had just chewed the food himself with teeth he no longer had, and then he managed to swallow it. Balfor bit some chunks of the cooked fish and fruit that Terry had been about to mash and chewed them to a pulp, still peering into Terry's watering eyes. "Kiss me again." Balfor said. Terry kissed him again, and again, and again and in this way consumed a whole meal of food chewed in his Master's mouth. Amazingly, as he had gotten used to the idea and his revulsion gradually disappeared, it made his little cock hard, like practically everything that Balfor did to him. Terry had never kissed a man before. It was an amazing feeling. Like coming home. Balfor's beard brushing his face, his big warm lips sealing against his own. It made him feel like a giddy school girl. It was gloriously bizarre. Terry was sorry when the meal was nearly over. He doubted Balfor would kiss him at all without this pretext. "When we get out of here, I'll pay for your dentures, until then, this is how you eat." Terry nodded, amazed to find himself smiling. "O.K. lets go and knock out the last two teeth." Terry couldn't wait to be rid of them. He looked forward to the feel of Balfor's cock pushing down his throat again. He was now totally in love.
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