As far as Cal could determine, Gina had never lied to him. That she hadn’t told him the whole truth about things he was certain. Everything in his world was painted the way Mistress Gina wanted it to be painted in a way, even if the colors were only inside his head. The first day that the crazy bitch had essentially tied him down and let men fuck his face, though she had ensured his participation with torture, ten men had unloaded their scum into his mouth and stomach mostly his stomach before the crazy bitch had gotten him up and made him do exercise to make sure he didn’t freeze in one position.
Then she forced him (with a cattle prod!!) to give himself an enema. “Just in case someone wants to fuck your boibitch pussy, you might want it clean so you aren’t licking up your own dirt,” she’d explained.
Then it was back to the room with the bondage gear, and she asked, “What do you want Calienté?”
Cal was tired, he hurt and only the fact that he felt almost full after days of living on one meager meal a day kept what had been force fed to him down. “I want to go home.”
“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII” Cal shrieked and found himself on his knees. The cattle prod that Gina had touched his butt with to get him to do the enema had been applied to his nuts. Only it felt like it must have a higher setting than the one that had produced a small welt on his ass.
“Who am I?” Gina growled at him while the cattle prod filled his vision and an actual spark jumped across the prongs at the business end of the ugly thing.
“Mistress Gina,” Cal sobbed out.
“Would you really like to go home Calvin? I bet that the football team of your school would just love to find you in their locker room wearing the outfit Hammer found you in, except with that skirt all around your waist so they could see what sort of sissyboy they’ve been showering with. That could be arranged if you really want it.”
The football team would kill him if he were left like that in their locker room. Of that Cal was certain. He stuttered out, “N ... N ... n ... no, M ... Mi ... Mistress G ... G ... Gi ... Gina!”
“You should think about this Calvin, you little sissyboy. I enjoy hurting you. I like watching you cry. In fact, watching you cry and making you cry just about makes me cream my panties. However, if I do it too often I get bored, and Calvin, you are starting to bore me. If I continue to be bored with you, well I’ll let Hammer know how entertaining I think it would be to lock you to a bench in the boys locker room at your former school and video tape the result when the football team shows up for early practice,” Gina punctuated her lecture by hitting Cal with the cattle prod every time she said his name.
“Mistress Gina, please...” Cal stuttered and whined between sobs.
“Mistress Gina, what do you want me to say?” Cal had actually leaned forward and caught at the rather tall woman’s leg while asking that.