Chapter VIII – The Sadistic Session for Vince

That night Sánchez decided that Vince would be the absolute center of attention. There was no special advance warning; simply, when the friends were already in the basement, drinking and talking quietly among themselves, Sánchez gestured toward the door and ordered that he be brought in.

Vince appeared walking naked, with the black leather collar tightly fitted, his gaze fixed on the floor and his body tense. He still bore the marks of the previous days: bruises in different shades of blue and violet, reddish stripes on his thighs and buttocks, a slight swelling on his wrists. He entered in silence, stopped where Sánchez indicated, and waited.

Gustavo remained kneeling in a corner, exactly in the position he had been ordered to maintain, with his hands on his thighs and strict orders to observe everything in silence and without touching himself. He could not even adjust his position if his legs began to go numb.

Sánchez waited for silence to fully settle before speaking. He explained calmly and clearly, almost in a didactic tone, what was going to happen. Vince would be used by all those present, at length, without mercy and without real rest between one man and the next. He had to endure. He had to thank each man afterward, in an audible voice. He had to remain conscious and open for as long as possible. If he passed out, they would revive him and continue. If he asked them to stop, the subsequent punishment would be worse.

Vince listened without raising his eyes. When the explanation ended, he only nodded once, knelt in the exact center of the room, and opened his mouth on his own initiative, offering himself even before anyone asked.

They began slowly and methodically, as if following a protocol that everyone knew. First they spanked him with open hands. The slaps echoed dryly against his skin. Vince held back the first cries, but soon stopped trying. Each blow left a red, swollen mark that added to the previous ones until his buttocks and upper thighs became a sensitive, burning surface. Then they moved on to the thick leather belt.

The sound changed: deeper, heavier. Vince screamed with each impact, his body jerking forward, but he did not ask them to stop. He only breathed between blows and held the position as best he could. When they decided the skin had been worked enough, they lifted him up and tied him standing. His arms were stretched taut above him, fastened to a ring in the ceiling; his legs were spread apart by a bar that prevented him from closing them. Exposed like that, they penetrated him one after another. They used no extra lubricant. Only saliva and whatever was already inside him from earlier preparations.

Each man took his time. Some went slow and deep; others used short, sharp thrusts. Vince jolted with each push. Tears ran down his face without stopping, mixing with the saliva dripping from his mouth. After each one he had to say thank you. At first the phras...