New experience as a domestic slave

It was afternoon, I arrived on time as my Master ordered me, went up the stairs, reached his apartment and knocked on his door. My Master opened, and says to me,

— “Come in” — with his hoarse voice and dominant attitude.

The Master is a burly man, broad arms, white skin, brown hair, 35 years old.

I entered the Master’s apartment with my head bowed, already knowing I wasn’t worth a shit. As soon as he closed the door, he says to me,

— “Get on all fours, Animal” — I obeyed.

— “Kiss my feet” — he says to me in a firm, rough voice, so I proceeded to kiss his sneakers without a word,

— “That’s my dog” — he says to me.

— “Thank you, my Lord,” I answer.

— “Get undressed, you fat piece of shit. Quickly” — he orders me instantly.

I took off all my clothes in seconds, there on the floor.

— “Stand up, hands against the wall, with your back to me” he orders me and I obey, saying,

— “Yes, my Lord.”

He puts a dog collar around my neck and a chain to pull me.

Then he took out a rope, squeezed my balls with one hand until I let out a moan, and wrapped the rope several times, very tightly, around the base. He tied the other end to a five-kilo iron weight. As soon as I tried to stand, the pain shot up through my gut and my balls felt like they were about to burst.

— “Now clean the whole apartment with that weight hanging from your balls. If it falls or loosens, I’ll split you open with lashes. Start with the kitchen.” — He tells me in an authoritative voice.

I dragged that weight across the floor, my balls stretched to the limit, every step drawing a low groan from me. The Master walked behind me with the black leather riding crop in his hand. Every time my fat ass moved too slowly or I hunched over, he struck my buttocks with a sharp lash that echoed through the whole apartment.

— “Faster, whore. Look how your tits and gut shake while you sweep my floor like a cheap slut.” — he said to me humiliatingly.

I cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, and the bedroom on my knees, always with the weight pulling on my swollen balls. Sweat ran down my back and down the crack of my ass. Each strike of the crop left a red mark that burned more than the last. I felt like my balls were going to burst.

When I finished, I was sweating like an animal. The Master grabbed me by the collar he had put on me and pulled me to the bedroom. He threw me on my back onto the bedside rug, lifted my legs and bent them until my feet were pointing at the ceiling, totally exposed. With another rope, he tied my wrists to my ankles so I couldn’t move even a centimeter. I was left like a pig ready for slaughter, ass and balls in the air, the soles of my feet facing him.

— “This is the position whores like you deserve” — he says ...