The Story Of Indio

Indio Chapter Four

 

Indio told me that Sip would need lots of training...and how!

 

"Aarrgh!" Sip screamed one afternoon as Indio attached yet another mousetrap to Sip's rock hard penis. Sipple was bound naked on the French antique vintage marble-topped table that his mother had sent.

 

The marble was elegant, but quite cold! Sip was on his back, wrists knotted behind him...but he was grateful he wasn't on his stomach, as not only were there about seven traps on his crotch, but there was one on each nipple as well.

 

"How my nipples hurt" Sip whined, and Indio smiled grimly.

"You are fortunate you didn't train under my Master Eugene, Sipple. He used to attach a cowbell to my nipple clamps and make me walk around ringing all day!" Thinking of it, Indio looked somewhat annoyed, and he slapped Sip's nipple clamps with a backhand motion

 

And the pain was excruciating. "Oh, what are you doing to me, Master?" Sip gasped, as tears rolled down his face. "I must like it because my dick is hard,but it's all so painful!"

 

Indio pinched the side of Sip's dick and placed the fifth mousetrap on Sip's dick. His dick looked now like a deck of wood, all the little wooden traps were aligned along his thick dick.

 

"Well, what you're feeling is pressure to your shaft, Sip." Indio said soothingly, as he flicked one of the traps with a brown finger. "The penile shaft is a structure of numerous skin layers covering the tissues called the corpora cavernosa. Their arteries  fill with blood when you get a hard-on." Indio then idly knocked one of the traps off Sip's dick and he screamed.

 

"Although the shaft is not very sensitive when flaccid, as it fills with blood during your sexual excitement, Sipple, the pressure makes it extremely sensitive." Indio interrupted his lecture to replace the mousetrap on the underside of Sip's cock--the frenum.

 

Indio moved Sip's legs apart a bit, and began adding mousetraps to his balls. As he handled Sip's scrotal sack, he talked on. "Your ball bag here contains your testes, or your nuts, two bits of fibrous soft glands, and the nerves in the testicles are quite sensitive, which makes squeezing them fun--" Indio wrenched Sip's scrotum, and Sip howled--"at least for me, eh?"

 

"I want these off, anything but these!" screamed Sip. "Why on my balls?" Indio sighed.

He reached behind him and brought out a stainless steel cylinder about the size of a can of beans. Indio quickly removed the erring trap. "Now we're going to do an alternative ball trainer, just for you, Sippie." Indio said kindly. "You told me last night that you were excited by your slave training and wanted me to go farther, but now you say you can't take too much. It's a double message. I'm going to have to put the Ball Crusher on you."

 

As Sip gaped, Indio stuffed his balls into an opening on the top of the canister. Then Indio locked the canister around Sip's balls, and pressed something on the side, and Sip felt the canister contracting around his testicles. Suddenly Sip emitted a girlish shriek! "

 

"Ah, that' s the sign that we can set your crush level at point four." Indio said approvingly, and he clicked something else, and the gradual contraction stopped, mercifully.

 

Indio paused, turning from his testicles and looked at Sip's right nipple, and suddenly he slapped off the trap, and Sipple began weeping like a little girl. "Oh you're going to make me lose my lunch." Indio muttered. Indio was concerned because Sip's nip was retreating into itself, but he had a plan.

 

Indio had "borrowed" a forceps from Georgetown University Hospital, and with this he grasped Sip's shy nipple, somewhat savagely.

 

Indio took the nasty little forcep and pinched hard on the nipple and Sip howled. "Good God, Sipple, why can't you shut up?" Indio dropped the forcep for a moment and went to the liquor cabinet and came back with a gin soaked washrag. "Now, silence!" As Indio stuffed the rag in Sip's mouth, he spread duct tape over the rag.

 

Now Sip was a bit more quiet, as the gin trickled down the back of his throat. Indio shook his head as he kept pulling and tweaking the elusive nipple. "Goodness" Indio said. But he knew what to do.

 

Sip's eyes bulged as he watched Indio head for the bedroom, and come back with a suction pump snakebite kit. Indio attached the suction pump to Sip's shy nipple and ran the pump until finally removing it, and noting with satisfaction that Sip had a nice large nipple now.

 

Again Indio applied the trap, ignoring Sip's muffled screams.

 

Finally, Indio was done. He slapped Sip harshly on the shoulder and Sip jumped off the table, suddenly feeling horrible because the thick stainless steel cylindrical Ball Crusher was now swinging between his legs. Sip looked down and couldn't believe it.

 

His mousetrap covered cock was visible, but his balls were completely contained by the Cylinder! And it was heavy. What could Sip do? His hands were tied behind his back.

 

"Now then, step into these" Indio said briskly,and Sip found himself wearing pink women's high heeled pumps. He was now standing gracelessly in the middle of the room, with the high heels completely biting into the heels of his feet.

 

At lunch after  Indio's funeral on a cold February day in 1990, Sipple Knox, now 200 pounds overweight and a banker married to a dominant wife  told me: "It was unbelievable, what Indio threw on me that day.

 

There I was with mousetraps on nipples and cock, and that horrible Crusher on my balls, trying to balance myself on the goddam high heels, with my hands behind my back...but was that all?"

 

Sipple paused and downed a bit of gin and tonic. "No, Indio had had plans for me that day. The night before I'd invited a number of my  buddies over, the loud, ignorant rich little assholes who I'd gone to prep school with.

 

We'd stayed up all night drinking, eating catered food and smoking cigarettes, and watching television, and of course, blaring music. Indio hadn't said a word about it, he'd helped me prepare for the party, and then he'd gone to the library for the evening, not coming back til the house was a mess and my pals were gone.

 

After Indio had trussed me up the next morning, with all that I'd mentioned, he told me he now wanted me to clean the mess my friends had made. "Will you untie me?" I asked, puzzled.

 

Indio smiled. "No, I want you to get the dirty dishes and ashtrays with your teeth, shake them over the garbage, and then clean them with your tongue and drop them in the dishwasher. I'll open the dishwasher for you. Now get to work,and if there's a speck in the house when I get back from playing Frisbee with my Combinatorial Optimization study group, you'll get the whipping of your life. And you know I mean that, slaveboy."

And believe you, Hooks, I had a job ahead of me. We had these real expensive Wedgwood plates, and carrying one in my mouth hurt my teeth, because they were so delicate. First thing I drop one and have to end up licking cigarette butts and pieces of anchovy off the floor, and it took me nearly four hours to carry each of the plates to the garbage can and shake them.

 

And of course then came all the licking of the disgusting pieces of dried gum, butts, joints and dirty food off each of the plates. But I became amazingly limber at dropping the glasses into the dishwasher with my teeth...and I did an adequate job..but Indio gave me a nasty thrashing anyway..."

 

Even after twenty years. Sipple looked sick when he told me that story. But I could see a nice little bulge in his pants, anyway.

 

Sipple also told me that Indio had made him carry his balls around in the Crusher for a week, which had been rather distressing in class, where the big cylinder was almost ripping through his chinos.

 

After Sip complained too much, Indio actually pushed his cock inside the Crusher as well, and forbade him to go to the bathroom all day. Sip told me that at one point he was sitting on the toilet in the public restroom at school crying.

 

Crying because instead of his comforting genitals, he had this big ugly silver thing between his legs, and he didn't have room enough to pee...Sip had actually rushed home and taken off his clothes and danced around with the horrible Crusher between his legs, like a little boy who couldn't hold it, and had to anyway.

"Swinging between my legs, Hooks, the Crusher kept knocking me down, hitting one leg so I slipped and then I'd get up and dance around again, until by the time Indio got home, I was just lying on the living room floor, crying and holding my genitals. It was pure, unadulated hell."

 

Finally Sip had had to beg Indio at the end of the day to release him, and Indio had made him write "Pride Goeth Before a Fall" 500 times before Indio released him.  And of course he'd not made it to the bathroom, and had peed all over his mother's expensive Oriental rug...my my.

 

 

Indio was disappointed at how weakly Sip had reacted to the Crusher, especially when it came to urine retention training. "Your bladder is spoiled, Sip" Indio advised his roommate, once again affixing The Crusher to Sip's cock and balls.

 

 Indio made sure that the Crusher had sufficiently squished Sip's genitalia completely. Indilo  could never stop laughing when he watched Sip stand in front of him, naked with a big stainless steel (and he made Sip polish it) cylinder swinging between his legs.

 

Sip preferred it when Indio just crushed the balls and he had his cock out, because then he could go to the bathroom, and it wasn't quite as painful...but Indio was not one to shirk his duty, and Sipple had what Indio called "lazy bladder syndrome"

 

Before Indio had locked the Crusher on Sip he'd teased Sip's cock to an almost bursting erection, and then he'd suddenly shut the poor penis inside the Crusher, and locked it up quickly.

 

"Yes, everything about your groin is spoiled." Indio said complacently. "You jerk off when you want to, you fuck these unfortunate girls and leave them..."

 

As Inido said "them" he kicked the Crusher and made it swing between Sip's legs, which caused Sip to have both incredible pain to his penis and testes, AND a near loss of balance.

 

"And then you drink all this beer, this schnapps, this whiskey...and pee all over the place. How many times have I made you lick your urine up from around the toilet because you missed your aim, Sipple?" Indio shook his head and folded his arms.

 

But then he suddenly kicked The Crusher once more, harder, and Sip fell over. Sip tumbled, the heavy Crusher swung between his legs and then swung up, hitting him on the stomach as Sip lay on his back, gasping.

 

Indio found this rather amusing. "Look how upset you are, Sipple. And think, my Master Eugene used to put me through so much more than this. Once we stole a catheter from the Boysville infirmary.

 

 Eugene bound me with my wrists tied behind my head, and a piece of surgical tubing gripped in my teeth.

 

It ran from a keg of beer to the retention catheter in my bladder. I'd try to keep from drinking the beer, but whenever I relaxed my mouth, the beer would go down my throat until I clenched my teeth over it.

 

And as the beer went down my throat, my bladder began filling with urine, and I couldn't pee, because of the catheter.

 

Sip,  I had to try to keep my teeth clenched over the tube to keep the beer from entering, but then I'd forget, and get more beer, and my bladder became fuller and fuller." Indio laughed as he watched Sip's eyes widen as he finished the story.

 

 "By the day's end, I was dead drunk and my kidneys felt like they were going to explode. And then, Eugene took the tube off the empty keg, did a reattachment on my penis, and I had to pee all the urine down my throat and drink it, which sobered me up admirably."

 

"And think, Sipple, when Eugene did this to me, I was only fourteen years old, and here you are, a big, strong, twenty-one year old man, and you can't take a little urine retention?" Indio shook his head.

 

"You're a pathetic creature, Sip. But don't you want me to train you to be a good slaveboy?"

 

Sipple nodded avidly. "Master Indio, I do benefit tremendously from your training, Sir. It's just that this Crusher business might be a bit too much for me, Sir." Sip got back up and stood there again, the Crusher swinging between his legs. "I just can't get used to the pain!"

 

Indio shook his head again, sorrowfully. "Sip, I don't think it's gonna work out between us. You just aren't a true masochist...you're not really a submissive, you're more  of a dilletante. Maybe we should just be roommates."

 

Indio watched as Sip dropped to his knees, which of course made the Crusher hit the ground and bounce back up into his crotch. After Sip bit his lip from the horrible sensation, he spoke. "Please, Indio, don't give up on me. This is the best life I've ever had, Sir. I don't want anything else. I'm willing to give up all I have for this."

 

And it was true, Sip had given up a lot. Although it was a three bedroom apartment they lived in, Sip was forced to spend most of his time at home in only one room...and when Indio didn't need him, and when Sip wasn't studying, he often was regaled to the closet in that room.

 

Sip spent hours in the closet, waiting for Indio's next command. And he didn't seem to complain that much, even though Indio gave Sip vicious canings and tawsings for the smallest mistakes in housework or academic studies.

 

Sip felt as if he was finally getting the discipline he needed, that in a world of countless choices, many of the choices were being removed so he would be a bit less confused.

 

As Indio saw the tears in Sip's eyes, he began to feel somewhat moved. "All right, but you're going to have to train harder, Sip. You must be ready for whatever I give you."

 

Sip nodded eagerly, and Indio instructed Sip to stand with one foot on a dining room chair. As Sip did this, Indio gently moved his other leg so that his legs were wide, and the Crusher was hanging between his foot on the floor and the foot on the chair.

 

Indio went into the other room and brought out a cane, a broomstick and a steel Louisville Slugger, and put them on the table, retaining only the cane.

 

"Now then, Sip. I want you to stand as erect as you can manage, while I put you through some paces." Sip's face was dead white as he nodded. (And I don't blame him. If I'd been Sip and saw that Louisville Slugger, I'd have jumped out the window, naked with the Crusher.)

 

Indio bent the cane, a nice rattan jobbie, and looked at Sip. "Were you ever caned at school?" Indio asked as he bent and then took practice swings with the cane.

 

Sip shook his head. "No, Master. I went to a very progressive boarding school,and we were given counseling when we screwed up." Indio chortled.

 

"Well, we see how well that's done you." Indio lifted the cane and swung it against Sip's nipples, hitting them hard. Sip jumped, and the weight of the Crusher pulled him down on the floor. Sip lay there, holding his nipples and crying.

 

Indio sighed. "As you were." Sip got up and put his one foot on the chair again. This time, Indio swung the cane against the Crusher, and it wobbled, and then stood still.

 

"How was that, Sip?" Indio asked kindly. He could tell that Sip wasn't doing all that well.

 

"It-it was painful, but all right." Sip answered. His balls were in incredible pain, mushed as they were against his cock in the Crusher. The cane had inflamed things a bit, but Sip was determined to be a man about it. Sip breathed easily again. "I'm ready for more, Sir..whenever you are."

 

Later after Indio's funeral in 1990, Sip told me that this was the beginning of his mental health. "All my life I'd been indulged" Sip told me. "Given whatever I wanted, a pony at six, motor scooters and minibikes by ten or eleven...and I'd get ticketed for riding them madcap in the street, and a cop would take them away, and my parents would buy me new ones.

 

 I insulted servants and teachers, and never paid any kind of price...and yet I was miserable, and had been in therapy since third grade, and was in two drug rehabilitation centers for heroin abuse after my junior year of prep school. But Indio's training changed everything.

 

All my life I'd just wanted peace of mind, and Indio as my Master gave me that...all I'd ever wanted was to think one thought at a time, and after six months with Indio, my mind stopped racing!

 

I never needed therapy again, and when Indio broke up with me, he introduced me to Doris, my dominatrix wife, and she's kept me in line since...but I was scared the first couple of days." Sip had grinned at me that time, and I bet it was difficult.

 

Twenty years before, standing in front of Indio, with the foot on the chair, Sip said again in a shaking voice, "Whatever you need to do to me, Master."

 

Indio had grinned and had tossed the cane on the table, and picked up the sawed off broom handle. He swung it hard, and it slammed against the Crusher, but Sip stood firm. Indio hit it three more times, and though tears came into Sip's eyes from the excruciating pain, he stood still and took it!

 

Then came the Louisville Slugger...and Sip fell down nine or ten times before he could stand tall for the swing and the BAAAANG of steel hitting steel. That night when Indio took off the Crusher cylinder, Sip's balls were black and blue, and his penis was covered in blood...but his Master was quite proud of him.