Gay Slave - Erection Test

Sensing my apprehension, he told me to go ahead, it would be ok. He explained that he needed to know if I could still harden at all, and that watching me try would please him. Even with this reassurance, I approached my cock with hesitation. At twenty-four years old, I feared the consequences of touching my own cock and balls.

When Master had first accepted me as his slave, I had a nice cock with a curly, blond bush, not a really long shaft, only about six inches, but fat and rock-hard when aroused. Small nuts hung low in my ball sack. Master liked my cock. He took pleasure in knowing that other boys would have begged to have my penis inside of them. He especially liked that the only attention this prize cock now received was as the target of his severe abuse.

I looked down at my small dick, which now hung limply in front or me. Master’s cruelty had changed my penis in so many ways. He had made me shave away my pubic hair before even allowing me into his house, and my shaft and balls bore the markings of faded tattoos, piercings, and burns. The many hours he had constricted my penis within tightly bound straps of rubber or leather, or jammed my shaft inside small metal rings to keep me from hardening, or stretched the balls with weighted chains had actually reduced the size of my member.

I did not begin to notice the loss of my sex drive until after he had begun the practice of sticking needles into cock and balls. When he injected saline into my scrotum to inflate it to the proportions of two large grapefruit, Master commented on my lack of arousal, saying that new games had always excited me in the past. I said nothing in response. Master had taken away my permission to speak about six months earlier.

He allowed me to cum a few days after the saline injections. Completely naked with a large plug jammed in my asshole, I stood in front of him and grasped my shaft in my hand. It took longer than it would have in the past, but my shaft firmed nicely, and I shot my load quickly.

Even though I had acted on his order, he punished me for that orgasm. He made me straddle a plank and hammer four nails through my member and into the board, three piercing the scrotum, one the shaft. He taunted me while I still sat skewered, saying that only a worthless pussy would do such a thing to himself. He told me that I deserved everything he did to me.

The pain must have caused me to lose consciousness for a moment, because it startled me to find Master supporting my head in his hands, his hard cock resting against my cheek. At that moment, my instincts as a slave took over. I opened my lips and took his engorged shaft completely down my throat in one smooth motion. I sucked hard while pulling back, my tongue massaging the bottom of his shaft as I withdrew. It did not take many such strokes before I felt the thick, warm liquid of his cum filling my mouth. I realized at that moment how total a pussy slave I had become when the torment in my groin suddenly increased dramatically as my shaft strained against its piercing steel bonds. In spite of all the degradation I had endured, taking his dick down my throat had caused me to harden.

After that, he did not let me shoot a load for over fifty days. During that time, he ended almost every night by ordering me to lie on my back on the floor. He would then place one of his knees on either side of my shoulders. Facing my crotch, he would sit back to press his naked asshole into my mouth. As I licked and kissed his sphincter, he would use his fist to crush my balls or pound on my cock with a wooden paddle. Afterward, he would take leather straps and wind them tightly around my member. My cock would throb throughout the night. and every morning when he removed the straps, my dick felt less sensitive than the day before.

As his abuses intensified, it became increasingly more difficult for me to sustain an erection. Master had not done anything special to emasculate me. He just refused to place any restraint on his position as a dominant sadist. We both understood that sooner or later his actions would permanently damage my manhood. The constant kicks in the nuts, the electricity, the tight bondage would render my cock useless. I passively accepted this as part of my slavery.

The next time I came for him, I stood in front of Master stroking a wilted dick for over fifteen minutes before hardening. Eventually the erection formed and I managed to squirt a few drops of seed onto the floor. Without prompting, I knelt and licked up the thick, warm liquid.

Watching me stroke at my flaccid dick, aroused Master. He had me lay on my stomach on the hardwood from which I had just sucked my sperm. Expecting him to fuck me, I spread my legs widely to offer a clear the path to my asshole. Noticing that my cock and balls resting between my legs on the floor, Master took the opportunity to step on my nuts with the ball of his bare foot. Excruciating pain exploded throughout my groin.

Just as he began to crush my nuts, the ringing of the phone interrupted him. He swore to express his displeasure at being bothered while I lay in such a vulnerable position. He ordered me to stay perfectly still for a moment while he grabbed a tool from across the room. Using a carpenter’s staple gun, he solved the problem of keeping me in just the right place by stapling my foreskin and scrotum to the floor before leaving the room. By the time he returned, he had lost all interest in crushing my nuts. Without even releasing my cock from the staples, he fucked me right on the floor. While he pounded his dick into me, I struggled to keep my hips from shifting and tearing the staples from my tender skin.

A few days later, as he lay on his back in bed, I climbed on top of him, facing him with one knee on either side of his hips. He placed the tip of his rod against my asshole and I sat to take him deep inside myself. As I began to roll my hips slowly, he commented that he had always liked being serviced in this way, just lying back and letting the boy perform. He complained that in the past the disgusting sight of my useless rod pointing at him ruined his pleasure. He told me that he preferred what he now saw, the small, shaved, limp dick of a true slave, a penis that would not ruin his orgasm by dripping seed on his stomach. His hands grasped my ass cheeks and gently guided me to increase the speed of my gyrations. As I pushed his dick into and out of my asshole, the limp rope my penis had become bounced freely, inscribing flowing loops in the air.

As I believed that my ability to harden had permanently ceased, my next erection came as a surprise. Master had hung me in a sling in his cellar. While I swayed in the leather swing, my wrists and shins shackled to the ceiling, Master amused himself by ramming his fist into my asshole. As the intensity of this fisting increased, I felt my dick firm ever so slightly. With his attention so focused on the hole just inches from my shaft, Master could not help but notice my indiscrete boner. He became enraged that I had done this without permission.

To punish me, he immediately and cruelly modified my dick. Using a razor, he opened my urethra from the piss hole down the lower side of my shaft to the ball sack. He split the piss tube of my penis and exposed the inside of my shaft. The upper side of my cock, he left intact. My dick remained in one piece, but the piss tube in the bottom had been exposed lengthwise so that it no longer carried urine. After cutting my cock, he bandaged the shaft so that the opening would not close while healing. After that day, I pissed through a small hole just above my balls, my limp rod hanging open as I did.

Having my urethra split by a razor permanently cured me of the bad behavior of hardening without permission.

Now, it again fell to me to entertain Master by masturbating. I barely knew how to approach my own cock. Even though I followed his order, I knew he would later punish me.

Being the first time he had allowed me to pleasure myself since slicing open my urethra, I approached the task with some uncertainty. I did not really know what to do with the flaps of skin my cock had become. I started by gently rubbing the cock head. When nothing happened, I grasped the shaft firmly and pressed the bottom of my penis together in a futile effort mold my flaccid flesh into the rod of a cock. I shook my dick vigorously, but the years of beatings had taken their toll. My dick had become too insensitive to respond to such manipulations. I felt no sensation at all in my groin. Even to please Master, I could no longer arouse myself. With no rigidity to stroke against, my hand flailed against the flaccid flesh of my penis.

He left me to humiliate myself by trying for over twenty minutes before asking what he could do to help. He offered to stimulate me by pissing on me or allowing me to lick his asshole. Knowing that it would please him to know for certain that I had become absolutely impotent, I took the initiative to pursue gratification for myself for the first time in over two years. With the total lack of sensation in my groin, I expected to fail at even my best effort to become aroused.

Frightened that I may be exceeding the limits of my position as a slave, I knelt down in front of the comfortable chair where he reclined and meekly took his bare foot into my hand. I raised his big toe to my mouth and sucked it the sensual way I normally reserved for his cock. I looked up to him to verify that I had not displeased him by touching him without permission. He bowed his head slightly to me to indicate that he approved, and I continued.

From the moment he first accepted me as his slave, my most intensely satisfying experiences had been associated with Master’s feet. In many ways, I had traded my manhood for the thrill of sucking on his toes and the sublime feeling of his coarse sole against the tip my cock. Even being kicked in the balls by him brought a perverse satisfaction. Best of all was the intense pressure on my sphincter as he foot fucked me, straining to follow the toes and instep that already occupied my colon with his heel.

As I rubbed my face against his foot, a small tingle developed in my groin and I pumped my still limp shaft wildly. Too soon, however, it became obvious that my dick no longer worked in that way. The small tingle waned as quickly as it arrived. Even though I knew that impotence was what Master wanted for me, I felt humiliated in my failure. I was no longer any type of a man, just a pussy unable to achieve erection. I felt a real sense of loss as I considered the long sexless future ahead of me.

Master seemed elated by my inability to harden, but still he had to make absolutely certain that I had become completely impotent. He removed his foot from my mouth and placed it directly on my shaft, gently massaging the tender spot under my cockhead with his moist big toe. The opening he had previously sliced along the lower side of my penis allowed him to actually touch what would have been the inside of my urethra. My own saliva on his toe provided gentle lubrication as he stroked.

I lay back onto the floor to afford him a clear path to my penis, my shaft slumping limply against my stomach. He caressed down the scarred tissue and rubbed the inside of the channel that once carried my piss. By the time he reached the small hole just above my balls that now served as my pisshole, I had become softly erect, not engorged as a real man would get, but my arousal could not be mistaken. He changed direction and the toe rose to the top of my penis. Even such an intensely pleasurable experience, masturbating against Master’s big toe, barely stiffened me. My erection was so feeble that without my abdomen to support it, my shaft would not even have remained straight. If I stood, the erection would have flopped and disappeared. My dick no longer became a fleshy engorged muscle. Instead, even aroused, my penis remained limp, empty skin. At twenty-four, I could manage no more.

He stroked down, then up, then down. I came without becoming any harder. I only stiffened enough to release my pitiful seed. Just as his toe reached my cock head, a drop of sperm oozed from my penis and dripped onto his toe.

Without allowing me even a moment to relish this long denied orgasm, which would probably be my last, Master ordered me to lick up my seed. As I ate the small, warm glob, he called me a good boy. He said that it was not my fault that I had not yet met his needs. We would just have to try a little harder.

He punished me immediately and without mercy. I deserved it. I had cum. I had soiled his perfect, masculine foot with my filthy sperm.

He pushed a long, thick needle into my right ball, through my sack, and out my left ball. He then placed the flame of a candle under one of the steel ends of the needle that extended outside my skin. As the metal heated from room temperature to scalding, the burning agony inside my scrotum caused tears to roll down cheeks. I found comfort, however, in Master’s growing erection. As if directly connected to my suffering, his cock hardened as the torment in mine increased. His shaft turned into an enormous iron rod just as I feared losing consciousness from the intense burning agony.

He left me skewered in that way and laid me on my back on his bed. He raised my shins to his shoulders and pushed my knees to my chest to raise my butt into the air. He fucked me in the asshole, jamming his dick deep into me with one animal thrust. He had not used me from the front in this way for a long time, and, in spite of the anguish in my groin, it felt good to look into his eyes and see the pleasure he took in using me, the bliss my tight asshole gave him.

Even though I had not yet become the impotent pussy boy he needed, fucking me still pleased him. While he thrusted, I dreamed of the day in the near future when he would fuck me for the first time after even the sensual stroke of his foot against my shaft could no longer arouse me, when there would be no possible way to arouse me. When I would please him by being a truly impotent pussy boy. I understood that torments such as the scalding needle in my balls would make that day come soon. For a moment, nothing else mattered to me.

In spite of the intensely sensual experience of being fucked by the man I had dedicated my life to pleasing, I did not harden at all. Even without the punishment I had endured that night, it would be months before my already mutilated balls produced enough sperm to cum. The way he had treated me that night, I knew I would never again achieve an erection.

The suffering Master caused in me with the needle had so focused his arousal that only seconds after he began fucking me, he ceased his thrusts and pushed himself in as far into me as possible to heighten his sense of orgasm. He grabbed my ass and pulled me to him. The needle in my sack pressed against my thighs as this embrace constricted me into a tight human package. My head swam from the ache in my groin, but I still strained to tighten my sphincter the way he enjoyed during orgasm.

More than I know anything else, I know the feel of Master’s cock inside of me, but that night the intensity of my pain seemed to make him much bigger than even his usual nine inches. He seemed to reach depths inside me that his cock had never before probed, places where only his fist or foot had been.

As I felt an enormous load of warm cum fill my bowels, he trembled with savage pleasure.

Afterward, he removed the needle, suspended me into a sling, chained a five-pound metal plate to my nuts and left me hanging in that way all night.