DISCLAIMER: dear readers, and loyal fans - you know who you are - just to say I’m genuinely sorry if the following story doesn’t make you sick. E.B.

 

(Special note for cunts; if you are a “dominatrix” you won’t like my stuff at all – unless you identify with the men abusing the cunts that is, don’t know if that’s possible: but submissive cunts – prepare to be abused, sluts – get that hole leaking, rub it fucking raw, and stick your whole hand up there, you loathsome fucking whores! Do it, now!   Considerate enough? I try to oblige.)

 

The Palaestra of Grossness

by Eric (puts the “s” in bdsm) Boss

 

(Palaestra  - an ancient school of wrestling or gymnasium.)

 

 

It all begins with the stink. The subtle and passing aroma of stale piss.  The lingering, eye-watering stench of days-old smegma joyfully preserved around a cum-encrusted foreskin. A bouquet of delights!  Endless, delicious, young boy farts. The stink of loathsome, putrid cunt-slime. The mouth now lasciviously salivating and the tongue sliding hungrily over fucking mean lips. Juices dripping like a tap. Fuck yeah!  Only a supreme effort of self-control prevented me from grunting like a fucking pig. However, I knew from experience that holding-back at this moment only increased the excitement later: when I would give in – utterly give in - to any urge, no matter how vile, revolting, disgusting or violent.   Fuck yeah!  You wait and see, men!

 

(Cunts, naturally I am not going to address you in this story, you fucking worthless pieces of shit!  Fucking hell!, I want to kick you hard up that cunt, and pull your fucking tit-bags off for even daring to think I would address you revolting holes for cock!)

 

So - the air in the streets leading to the Palaestra was laden with the all-pervading, fucking stink of corruption, degradation, debauchery and brutal sadism – you think sadism doesn’t have a smell?  You have to know it to know it.  Plus - oh the joy - it’s all not only all allowed but positively encouraged! 

 

The appalling, stomach-churning stench seemed to fade on the air at the exact moment before you were about to gag, heave and vomit the contents of your stomach, acrid and lumpy, onto the pavement.  To vomit too soon would be a mistake, I always think, such a waste.

 

Tonight I would vomit in the open mouth and on the face of the most beautiful young man - the most perfect, the most angelic, the most fucking debauched, muscle-bound boy I could find – and there would be plenty to choose from, and the standard of choice, as always, would be fantastic.  Ok, the cunts would be cock-hardening too - but vomiting on cunts?  Fuck no!  What a waste of good, organic stomach acid!  Real acid for them. 

 

I liked it, acid that is, liberally poured up fuck-holes and injected in fucking huge tits. 

 

The artist organisers were so clever at keeping this stench outside at just the right hint of emetic. It was there to lead me, and all of us, on.  And it did. This walk towards the source of the foul smells was like the stairway to heaven.  To say it made me feel good to be alive is the weakest thing I can think of.  It was fucking glorious to take every breath. 

 

My honed, perfect body – old enough but fucking perfect - hummed with the harmony of the fucking spheres.  I was dizzy on human toilet stink. Not manure, not animal smells, nothing farmyard, they knew that wasn’t a turn-on.  Even when the cunts – or occasionally a gorgeous boy or two - were serviced by their zoo or farmyard stock, they controlled the aroma, so it didn’t smell like a fucking circus or horse-track.  The smells were always deliciously human-toilet in origin.

 

Some of our first hardons were associated with lavatory stink, and these artists knew how to jog that memory.  At this distance it seemed almost as if it was a memory of the stink not the stink itself, but that was the success of the illusion.  However as I walked towards this legendary Palaestra the great smell of stale piss and shit must have been a reality - the big, heavy cock was twitching – so nice - and more importantly the face began to twist into a fucking nasty sneer.  I really wanted to grunt and thrust my hips and yell, “Die!  You fucking whore!”   But to do so would be hopelessly unsophisticated, so I controlled myself.

 

Those fucking clever bastards!  The subtle blend of stinks would be gone completely for say thirty seconds, leaving the mind to work on it - the imagination would take over and desire would grow throughout the muscles even more during the absence of the actual stink.

 

Inside the Palaestra, the glory of the environment included you taking on any sexy age you wanted.  I don’t actually know fully how they achieved this, I know it didn’t involve drugs or intoxication – there was plenty of that available for those who used that shit - I think they achieved it through a combination of elements e.g. the way you were treated and the surroundings.  Anyway, however it was done you always believed it, you felt it in every part of you.  Of course they couldn’t create miracles and you shouldn’t look too hard at the copious mirrors surrounding your booth but casual glances at a honed body – as mine is - combined with a fucking overwhelming belief that you were - for this time at least - the age you desired – these combined to complete a more than satisfying illusion.

 

I’ll confess that I loved being a pubescent boy obsessed with his own fucking huge cock, in love with it, for the first time.  On my last visit, a couple of weeks ago, I inhabited this persona.  When he was young – this boy I was  - he didn’t even know it was fucking magnificent. 

 

Tall, slim, broad-shouldered, short black hair and a giant cock - a foot long and six inches round (forgive the boast but this wasn’t that far from the truth, my own cock was fucking huge) he craved the smell of his own farts, nicer and more exciting than anything he had ever known.  This dirty, innocent sexy kid knew nothing and was simply a slave to his senses.  His mouth watered at the stench of his own unwashed crotch – despite being very beautiful he was very smelly, in fact he stank - and he lived to experience the stink again and again - the sick-making, repulsive aroma of his own sweaty, unwashed crotch and the sickening smell of dirty public lavatories were his passions.  Secretly and lovingly he used to lick the obscene pictures drawn on the walls of the filthy cubicles – impossible tits, dripping slits and fucking hard hairy cocks. 

 

Two weeks ago, through the skill of the Palaestra, I was that age and that spontaneously filthy.  The memory of that unutterable filth was like a warm bath – enveloping, luxuriating.  I passed an old female crone, bent and hideous and I imagined throwing this revolting, withered female to the ground and fucking it to death – I was so fucking horny I’d have fucked anything with a hole.  (I was to remember this thought towards the end of the coming session and it gave me a very special idea – you’ll see later, men.)

 

But tonight I was just going to be myself – it’s a mistake to overdo the role-play opportunities – it can backfire and become stale.  I was simply going to release my own instincts for debauchery and cruelty.  Fuck yeah!  “Don’t grunt, don’t thrust your fucking hips for god’s sake, you are in public!”  I had to keep telling myself.  I wondered if the other clients had a similar struggle as they approached the Palaestra – there were a couple of thousand of us converging.  It was a massive stadium.

 

These brilliant artists, as I said, knew how to tease us. The smell vanished and I would silently long, beg for it to come back.  I’d surreptitiously put my hand in my crotch and casually put my hand to my face, smelling it eagerly, hoping it smelt of stale piss and sweat but it didn’t, I was too clean now.  But I wanted to stink, badly, so fucking badly.  But fuck!  I would stink sickeningly and gloriously before this session was finished

 

The way they orchestrated your approach was so good. These tantalising smells built an image as hard and exciting as a fucking muscle boy’s twenty-inch biceps, as real as a cunt’s piercing screams of white hot agony, and I wasn’t even there yet.

 

There it is was again, this time it was cum, that sour, sweet smell of gallons of cum shooting from a young, huge cock, covering the whole body, in the mouth, sliding down the throat, coating the tongue, up the nose and filling the ears.  

 

Specifically and in detail I was going to watch the destruction of hundreds of big-titted, young whores – inventively done, eliciting as much pain as it was humanely possible for the cunt to experience. Fucking great!  Even though I’d been many times before, my enthusiasm was never diminished – I was eager as a football fan going to watch his team at a final.

 

I wanted to watch cunts being destroyed with my nose and mouth bobbing up and down on a hot boy hole.  A hot teenage boy hole.  Shoving my tongue up there, biting, trying to fucking climb up into his shit-hole – sucking loads of cum from his hot boy-hole, letting it coat my tongue and lips.  I was swooning with anticipation.  “Stop it!  You don’t know what you will do till you get there!”

 

Men, there is something else about my last role-play, something intriguing, that you might find it interesting to understand.  To that hot, teenage, slim. dark-haired boy that was me and who was thinking all that filth – to him it wasn’t good, dirty, healthy fun as it was to me, to him - it was sin!  The blackest, most evil sin, the negation of god itself and all that was good.  I fucking loved that!  Even “the thought” was sin, for this religious but hot and smelly youth I pretended to be, he didn’t have to do it to be damned.  He just had to want it and he was damned!  He just had to imagine it to mean eternal damnation, even before he committed the gross acts – and fucking hell! Did he commit fucking gross acts two weeks ago, oh yes!  He hurtled his hot, young body headlong into vile acts that condemned him to hell for all eternity!

 

Only a fucking medieval monk with nothing better to do than whip himself into a bloody frenzy in the cold isolation of his cell could think up the idea that desire itself was worthy of hell.  Controlling the urge had no merit – if you desired it and imagined it – the fucking hateful christian god chucked you into the fiery pit.  (Nothing especially hateful about the christian god, they are all fucking loathsome, he’s just the example here. Well maybe not all loathsome, some Hindi gods enjoy a good shag, I believe.)

 

But many clouds have filthy silver linings: if this anti-human, fucking medieval monk and his ilk hadn’t promulgated this ridiculous mental self-torturing fantasy about damnation as the reward of sexual pleasure (religious education, incidentally, is now - quite rightly - regarded as the most serious form of child-abuse) anyway thanks to those fucking deranged repressed monks and saintly churchmen I could enjoy that delicious fantasy, it made holding the orgasm back so delightful.  The orgasm that when it happened plunged my imagined boy into the eternal, fiery pit was something special.  It had needed working on, and I had practiced it quite a lot now.  But damn it!  I shouldn’t overdo it; fantasies can be worn out by familiarity.

 

I was near the place now, absorbed in the fucking revolting stink and deeply remembering being that naïve blessed boy!  Totally damned for what he craved.  Fucking mortal sins!  Damnation!  Fuck yeah!  Terrible beyond belief – but exciting beyond belief. Every thought, every sniff, every lick meant burning in an eternal hell: the terror was a trembling reality yet nothing, fucking nothing, could overcome the craving.  These smells embodied it all. 

 

It was his fate.  He had anticipated nothing short of total, hellish debauchery. I was getting nearer.  Boys, cunts, massive tits, huge cocks, cum, piss, spit, sweat and shit, blood and agony!  Fuck yeah! 

 

The shit was the most terrifying therefore the most exciting.  I was going to wallow in fucking shit, and see beautiful boys sliding in shit and eating shit, and cunts forced-fed shit.

 

Separating myself – with difficulty - from the identity of the damned teenage boy I thought about the cunts that lay ahead for me.  The cunts at the Palaestra were always fucked in fucking agony. Cunts fucked by huge muscled men wielding massive, cunt-wrecking engine-parts, shoved mercilessly up those gloriously revolting holes – and something special was always done to the fuck-holes to make them even more utterly revolting than they were naturally. 

 

Syphilitic spores from specially cultivated moulds would be transferred to the fuck-holes – a favourite on the very young, very young, huge-titted cunts – disfigures the slits hideously, inside and out of their previously pristine fuck-holes – and it apparently takes only a couple of days to cause huge, puss-oozing sores.  Delicious!

 

Grossly distended cunt-lips – a bit boring I thought.

 

Inventive tattooed messages – “this hole is for garbage”, “this hole is for pissing in”, “pack shit up this cunt”,  “kick hard here” …I liked that

 

Maggots and flies specially bred to live in around the fucking-cunt hole. 

 

Small snakes trained to live up the cunt- hole. 

 

Litres of animal cum stored up the cunt-hole and allowed to seep out. 

 

Cunt-holes used as ashtrays, full of cigarette and cigar ends and ash – I fucking loved this – I hated the look of ashtrays and the smell – seeing a cunt as an ashtray always made me fucking loath it …it always made me physically violent to the cunt … 

 

Fucking cunt-holes used to breed worms. 

 

Cunts used for kitchen waste, rotting food shoved up the cunt-hole. 

 

Cunts packed with compost and weeds growing in profusion from the revolting fuck-holes.

 

Cunts as nests for hive of bees.

 

I was thinking of huge-dicked animals fucking big-titted cunts barely more than children. (The reality of this, actually men, was often a bit disappointing, so impractical to organise- sight-lines and so on, and the animals needed such expert training beforehand – it was all a bore, if the truth be known.)

 

Young cunts fucked in shit, fucked to death, while beautiful boys pissed on each other and slid their cocks and mouths over your body.  It was what we all needed and we given it and were never allowed to run short or be frustrated.

 

A favourite popped into my mind and my fucking huge cock stiffened. I thought of that classification of cunts that were trained to beg for torture, and to be fucked in ways, which are torture - those cunts that were trained to beg to be covered in shit and to drink pig’s piss and then implore the hot studs to fuck them to death.  It was so good, so necessary for us, as I said.

 

I had another thought – perhaps I would order two hot, young muscle-bound guys to fuck to death a young, really young, specially bred, huge-titted cunt - tits huge and firm – possibly one of the ones who had to be wheeled around in a cart because it couldn’t carry the weight of the massive, firm meaty tits, but also one of the ones who was trained and conditioned to adore the men who were fucking it.  I really loved it when these stupid – they bred them to be fucking stupid – young, big-titted whores were cooing and going crazy over the guys who, unknown to the cunt, naturally hate and despise it.

 

The sheer dishonesty involved was simply delicious  – then at close quarters – I could get to see the revolting young cunt fucked to death.  Not poisoned or tortured, simply fucked to death – assisted by choking perhaps – but close up, human, masculine, primitive and brutal.  Would that be on my menu-card to tonight?  Perhaps I would choke the cunt myself while the two hot young muscle-guys fucked its ass and cunt.  There was always a wonderful moment when the young cunt realised the truth, that the guys fucking it hated it – fuck yeah!  The cunt saw that it was fucking hated by these hot young guys – I loved that.

 

So, you see what this trail of stinks was doing to me.  My brain was feverish with fucking, animalistic lust.  No wonder I felt as if I was walking on air.  No wonder my perfect body felt alive to the slightest sense of touch, I could feel my clothes, my watch, my knotted tie, my ear-studs.  I was simply – sorry to use a cliché – so fucking alive.

 

The first choice was which booth, which facilities and which view it provided?  Because of the vast numbers accommodated at each performance this is a decision that was best made in advance. This particular Palaestra was dedicated to the most extreme violence and cruelty they could invent, directed at young fucking loathsome cunts in the main, with young men and boys occasionally thrown in to spice things up; others in the city and around the globe were of different varieties.

 

The only entry qualification, if you could afford the fee was a cock.  And amazingly, there was no age limit, upper or lower, but the owner of the cock presumably had to be able to walk.  It was a superbly enlightened approach to education.  They had enlightened ticket policy and always had plenty of basic seats, not booths, for the disadvantaged members of society.

 

But walking round the booths it was always a wonderful moment to come across some young male, very young male, being encouraged to hate cunts, inflicting the most excruciating pain on big-titted whores even before they could get an erection.

 

“Come on, boy,” it was usually his father or an older brother, “you want to hear this fucking cunt scream, don’t you?”

 

“Oh yes, daddy, I do.”

 

“Because …  “  The boy paused not knowing what he was expected to say.

 

“What are cunts for?”

 

“Cunts are for destroying, daddy.”

 

“That’s it, well done.  And this cunt was specially bred for you to hate. Look at that those huge tits.  What else do we call them?”

 

“Fucking huge jugs, daddy.  Or fucking huge, man-pleasing melons.”

 

“Right, very good.  Now watch me hurt them.” Wanting to be as primitive as possible in order to make his point for the boy, he simply bit hard into the tit-meat, gnawing at the huge tits and drawing blood, which he let run down his chin. At the same time, not wanting to neglect the other fucking massive tit, he dug his strong hands into it and squeezed it so hard it left the imprint of his hand.  The cunt really didn’t like this treatment.

 

“Now look at the fuck-hole, and watch me kick it.”  He did so, very hard, wearing steel-toed boots for the purpose.  Now, do you fucking hate this cunt like I do, boy?”

 

“Oh yes, daddy, I really hate this fucking cunt, just like you do.  Daddy?”

 

“Yes, son?”

 

“Can I hate the cunt more than you do?”

 

“If you think you are up to it?  How much do you hate it, boy?”

 

“Well I hate boiled vegetables, and I hate this cunt more than that.”  The father managed not to laugh, but simply congratulated his son.

 

“Well, what are you waiting for?  Since you hate this cunt more than you hate cabbage, fucking shove that spiked dildo up the cunt.  And do it hard, boy!”

 

“Yes, daddy.”  This cunt could have been his sister, or hopefully his mother. I do hope it was, in fact, his mother.  I really hope it was his mother.

 

In fact maternal abuse was sometimes arranged on an individual basis as part of the worldwide education programme.  It was very effective but generally the boy could only experience it once, unless, that is, the whore-mother was kept alive and brought out for continued training for the boy.

 

It was superb preparation for his developing masculinity and added wonderfully to the health of society in general.  No more youth violence; mutual respect and politeness reigned: Videos or DVDs  of “lager louts” and football violence of the old days were apparently available circulating underground if you wanted them. Some people, I believe got off on them – ugh, perverted if you ask me.

 

 The care with which the older men treated the boys was exemplary and if I may say, a glorious demonstration of humanity’s finest qualities.  (Boys used as exhibits were a different matter.)

 

Each booth was equipped with a screaming exhibit – a restrained young, big-titted cunt who was provided so that you, and your man-whores, or friends if you wanted to share, could inflict pain on it in any way at all.  This was standard; you could, if you paid for it, have as many screaming exhibits you wanted.  These cunts were now specially bred - at the start of the programme they had to be captured, but now it was organised on an industrial scale world wide, and totally efficient. 

 

Since the introduction of the programme, productivity across the board – because, I assume, of increased motivation - had soared.  World leaders were predicting the end of all wars – and the public believed them amazingly.

 

Naturally you could fuck the screaming exhibit if you felt like it, it wasn’t expected that it would survive the session anyway, so fucking it inventively was always a good challenge.  The performances in the arena often provided me with inspiration and fresh ideas, particularly after several hours, eight or nine, when I was getting a little tired.

 

In the vast reception area, you were always greeted by one of an apparent army of  young man-whores, who could be dressed as an army or navy officer, or a businessman, or a boxer or footballer, or in some fetish outfit.  The good thing about this dressing up of these muscular, young man-whores was that they were provided with real clothes, not some cheap porn version.  So you could decide to use them – in your imagination to start with – as sex objects if that was your thing, or treat them just as officials.  They were elaborately polite in the preliminaries – nothing overt.  Although the smell of their cologne was always underpinned by a subtle smell of shit or piss which seduced me, at least, into fervently and instantly wanting to see them viciously fuck a moronic, big-titted cunt until it was a gibbering wreck. Or fucking devour him myself.

 

The boy-whores of course, loved this, it was what they were trained for, the more they saw the lust in your eyes, the greater their feeling of self-esteem, and the more charming the smiles they gave, but at this stage they never let on, they smiled, kept their distance and were terribly polite and formal, like well-cut and well-groomed receptionists at a smart hotel.  But we both knew, me and the gorgeous, young male creature handing me my ticket and key, that this smiling, handsome, well-dressed and well-mannered boy was as depraved and degraded as hell itself.  Wait and see, men.

 

The contradiction was fucking delicious.  If he wasn’t performing in the arena tonight and since he was on welcoming duty he wouldn’t be, I could choose him and I could shit in his mouth, coating those spectacular white teeth, and he would moan with delight.  Everything about these Palaestras was fucking great, I had tried a couple of others but this one was my favourite.

 

What was wonderful was that these fresh, strong, glamorous and muscled young studs handled the cunts with astonishing expertise – they ought to, they were trained exhaustively for at least ten years.  They knew how to induce exquisite agony in a big-titted young cunt - this was the only point to the cunt’s existence of course. The cunt’s agony was orchestrated such that it enhanced these muscular young stud’s own virility – they only ever fucked for the benefit of the men watching – they were ineffably arrogant and had the confidence of perfect youth  – displaying their skill was all they lived for.  Their extraordinary arrogance, confidence, self-assurance whatever you call it  – so fucking sexy, such a fucking turn-on for some of us guys – but they served another and more important social purpose – it was a fucking superb example to the rest of male society. And it worked, male self-esteem was the highest it had ever been.

 

As you will have realised, dear readers, the men of the audience wanted to see their own masculinity reflected, enlarged and emphasised.  It was rightly called a school of wrestling, or a gymnasium - the young men performed sexuality athletics and were given their due appreciation – some of them had achieved the status of super-stars – and earned millions.  A hugely satisfying career for suitable young men.

 

The booth I had booked was on the ground floor, it had the best view as far as I was concerned, and mine had bathroom facilities attached – all the booths had drains naturally but I could afford the best – well not quite the best – the best had fully equipped private dungeons as well.  The poorer men of our society had to make do with seats, as I said, but as you can imagine, they were very inventive about enjoying themselves and the walking cunts that were available.

 

What was a booth like?  I’m struggling to paint a picture - if you can imagine - the following was nothing like it but it’s the nearest I can think of - a large opera box with a shower room attached – that was where I was going to spend the next fantastic twelve hours.

 

Walking into my booth the smell was overpowering, utterly revolting – imagine the nasty, filthiest public toilet, swimming in turds and piss. Heavenly. The look of the place was immaculate, perfect, comfortable without being ostentatious.  The screaming exhibit was fixed in place and my-suck-and-fuck* whore was already jiggling her massive tits at me.  A comment about this cunt in a minute.

 

(*I came across the sobriquet “fuck-and-suck slut” or “fuck-and-suck whore” etc. in a great and educative story by The Chairman, “Juicing Jeanne” on the BDSM Library site, and it stayed in my mind -  such a poetic and apt description of a useful class of cunt.  I liked it so much I thought I’d pay him the compliment of stealing it. I would hate to plagiarise without acknowledgement.)

 

There was nothing between my booth and the arena, I could lean out and maul the performers if I wanted – it was welcomed.  If I wanted privacy there was a two-way mirror that I could draw down to cut me off from prying eyes.  But I never wanted privacy – in fact I always hoped that other fellas on the opposite side of the area were training their binoculars on my booth.

 

The smell was more like disgustingly sweaty feet and armpits now and it produced, in me at least, a sudden and empowering surge of violence.  I told the young sailor whore-boy I’d picked and the suck-and-fuck whore to get the screaming exhibit’s legs apart – fucking quick – yank them wide open – and I kicked the cunt’s cunt viciously several times, then I slapped it and punched it hard in the face until I’d taken the edge off. 

 

It was an absolute necessity to be that suddenly and totally violent after the build up provided by the stinks - and my own imagination - in the approach.  The organisers knew this and quite often the screaming exhibit was destroyed in the first few minutes of the client entering the booth – this was good for business as of course the man always wanted a second, or third – and yes, that did cost.

 

I was nearly in that position myself, and more so because I really wanted to lay into the sailor boy and punch the fuck-and-suck slut’s idiotic face as well but you were encouraged keep the whores for specific functions – sensible really – the fuck-and-suck slut couldn’t concentrate on my needs if she was screaming, and the sailor boy-whore similarly.  That was why it was so necessary to have the screaming exhibits, so that all urges could be expressed when they needed to be.  So I prepared to take a shower.  I thought I better order a second screaming exhibit as I was going to need two.  The fuck-and-slut whore did this while I told the sailor boy what I wanted – I wanted to watch him shave while the I did the same, shave, smoke and have the big-titted whore attach its face-hole to his cock.

 

I realised I wanted a cunt-boy to destroy as well.  So the fuck-and-suck slut ordered me that in addition to the extra screaming exhibit.  Fucking expensive but I was in extravagant mood.  The virtually brainless fuck-and-suck slut had its massive, firm tits sticking out from its flimsy porn whore dress and knelt down in front of the gorgeous sailor boy-whore, and nuzzled his cock, licking the cloth.  This muscular stud-whore removed his hat and top, and then put his hat back on, a nice instinctive performance touch – I told you these boys were trained to want sex only for the benefit of the men watching, that’s what turned them on – not the cunts, not their own bodies, the thought of the pleasure they were giving to their male audience – it was this that made them feel so ultimately masculine.  And also because of this they could perform any category of debauchery without ever feeling that this superb masculinity had been diminished.  If they were fucking a boy for example, or shitting in a whore’s mouth, or kissing another whore-stud, it was all for the audience, all for men.

 

The thought that I merely wanted this stud to do something as simple as shave, and have his cock sucked – was such a compliment to this young man, it flattered his giant ego hugely, he was glowing with male pride.  He flashed me genuine smiles of pure delight.  He lathered his chin –carefully, for his audience not for him, wiped his hands in the cunt’s hair, put a cigarette in his mouth and let it dangle while he started shaving.  In fact every movement was a pose, I could swear he was seeing himself as double-page spread in a fashion magazine: his inexhaustible vanity was a fucking turn on, all these boy-whores had it.  Such depth of self-regard took years of encouragement, refinement and development, and could only be wondered at!  And, as I said, such absorption in his own masculinity was a fucking fine example to other men.

 

I could hear the attendants – body-builders – shackling the second screaming exhibit.

 

“Leave it ungagged, guys.  I want to hear its moans.”

 

“Where d’you want the cunt-boy, sir!”

 

“Send him in here.”  I’d asked for a particular cunt-boy, one I’d seen in a display niche on the way to the booth: they have these platforms dotted about the corridors on which cunts fuck themselves silly with a variety of unpleasant objects, or a stud invites you to stick a skewer through a cunt’s massive tit, or a young boy fucks himself energetically with a very large dildo – etc, you get the idea.  I’d seen this cunt-boy doing just that with a dildo that must have been six inches in diameter, so I knew he’d have a ruined boy-cunt.  He was maybe fifteen, short, skinny but very appealing. 

 

He ran in to the bathroom and threw himself at my feet. 

 

“Show me your fuck-hole, boy.”  He lay on his back on the tiles looking up at me, he immediately threw his legs up and pulled his arse cheeks open, showing me a gaping, ruined, boy fuck-hole.  I put my foot up it, he moaned in joy and started to fuck himself on my boot. Whether these ecstatic moans of joy and orgiastic grunts were real or assumed was irrelevant to me, both ideas were equally pleasant.

 

I looked at the hot, dark-haired young sailor (a whore-stud in sailor’s uniform to be exact, but you know that) who had lit his cigarette, while the fucking stupid, big-titted whore was sucking on his great cock with cock-loving energy.  He looked so good, white sailor hat on the back of his head, alternately smoking, shaving and stroking his muscular chest.  He took the initiative and sensing what I liked, he began talking to the fucking cunt – talking to it, but for my benefit.

 

“Cock-loving, fucking revolting whore!  Get my fucking big cock down that throat!”  He put one hand on the loathsome whore’s hair and forced his cock down its throat, and grunted at the same time. This shower room was echoing with grunts.  He kept his lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, he still had half the shaving lather on his handsome face, and he looked at me, smiled and winked – he must have been all of twenty-two.

 

“Good fucking cock-sucking whore, sir.  Good choice.  Thank you, sir.”

 

“My pleasure, young man.” 

 

“You look fucking hot, sir, if I may say so, with that cunt-boy on your boot.”

 

“Thank you, boy.”  Briefly I wished I was looking at all this through the eyes of the hell-fearing, big-cocked adolescent that I was last time, he would be trembling with pleasure and fear at the same time – but no, I restrained myself and stayed in my own persona.

 

But I’ll just tell you something interesting about the cunts provided. As I implied before, the supply of cunts needed for the worldwide paleastras programme was vast.  They had a breeding and conditioning organisation well underway (it was “conditioning” not training with cunts, they didn’t need to actually learn anything just be aware what to expect and where appropriate, know when to let their natural whore submissive natures do the rest.) 

 

Anyway I had read somewhere they were trying a genetic programme to see if they could breed them with inherently smaller brains; they were trying to get the perfect big-titted, female fuck-animal, virtually incapable of thought.  Looking at the totally vapid expression on this stupid fourteen-year-old big-titted cunt with the sailor’s cock stuck in its throat I thought they might be well on the way to achieving that goal.

 

The studs on the other hand were intelligent (some more so than others) and well-read young men, capable of providing companionship on all levels.  The cunt-boys were bright and clever also but completely uneducated – why bother?  None of them lived beyond eighteen, if that.

 

This cunt boy on the floor fucking himself on my boot was going to die in appalling agony in the next twelve hours, I’m glad to say, as were the two whores chained to the wall in the adjoining booth.  I smiled at the sailor.  He was entertaining me again – the skill of these boys was always making it look as though they were doing it for themselves – it was a mark of a rookie or incompetent whore stud-boy to ask the client what he wanted, or appear to be needing instructions.

 

“Open that fucking face-hole, cunt!”  said the young, handsome sailor.  He flicked some of the lather from his razor in the face-hole.  “Swallow.”  The cunt did, holding up her huge jugs for his approval.  He didn’t get the cunt to lick the blade of the razor, or slice the inviting huge tits to ribbons - this whore had to be returned alive and anyway he didn’t want it to start bleeding over his immaculate white uniform – any damage to the uniform would be charged to my bill – the stud whore-boy knew this of course and it was part of his service not to increase my already monumental bill – well in this area at least. 

 

He knew that the more money he got me to spend on peripheries the more the management would be pleased with him but on the other hand there was the tip he could expect from me – and small considerations like the cost of his clothes was usually appreciated.

 

Now he was using the fuck-and-suck slut’s face-hole as an ashtray, I always liked that – as you would know, men, if you have been reading attentively.

 

I was shaving myself.  The sailor asked me politely, “Would you like this cunt on your cock now, sir?”  Such a skilfully innocent question.  He knew the question itself was a turn on, and therefore knew how to exaggerate its inherent matter-of-factness.

 

“No thanks, boy, you keep the fucking whore.”  The answer was also a turn on requiring that I shove my booted foot further up the cunt-boy, who gasped and smiled broadly at me – he was cute.

 

“Thank you, sir.  I hope I’m pleasing you, sir.”

 

“You’re alright, slut.”  Here we have the perfect illustration of the difference between the stud and the cunt-boy - as if a stud would ever ask me if he was pleasing me – destroys all sense of masculinity instantly.

 

The sailor whore-boy finished shaving, rinsed his face, applied some of the special aftershave they used – a cologne with undertones of fresh shit – and said,

 

“I’ll just take a piss, sir.”

 

“OK, boy.”  Of course he used the cunt’s mouth.  It did its best to swallow fast enough but his piss was voluminous and it ran over the cunt’s mouth onto its tits.

 

We mustn’t forget what was happening in the main arena.  It wasn’t visible from the shower room – some of the elite suites had views from every room - so I sent the sailor whore-stud and the suck-and-fuck slut into the booth.

 

“Go ahead son, start fucking the whore, I’ll just finish up in here.”

 

“Thank you, sir, I’ll fuck it as painfully as I can, if that’s alright with you?”

 

I told you how clever these boy-whores were.  “That’ll do nicely, boy.  If you’d like to call through and let me know what I’m missing in the arena.”

 

“I’d be pleased to, it’ll just be warm-up stuff at this time, sir.”

 

“Ok, but let me know what’s going on.”  He probably guessed why I sent him out of the shower room, but it didn’t matter.  I didn’t want, at this stage anyway, him to see me enjoying anything remotely “gay” as I wanted him and me to continue sharing our fucking manly abuse of the cunts.  But I had something I really wanted to do with this cunt-boy.

 

“Get off my boot, slut-boy.”

 

“Yes, sir.”  He did, leaving his fuck-hole gaping, it’s lips loose and flapping – disgusting on any man-whore, but doubly disgusting on a fifteen-year-old boy-whore.  It made me despise him, I liked that feeling.  Also he smelt revolting – as if he’d been washing in piss and shit.  Well, he’d be in more of that before long. 

 

Oh men, in case of misunderstanding, don’t think when I use a term like “revolting” it means I don’t like it – it’s the exact opposite. I fucking loved his disgusting toilet odour.  Feeling of revulsion, as we all know, are deeply arousing, or is that just me?  Ha, ha, who am I kidding!

 

“Open your mouth, whore.”  He did so.  I dribbled spit in it and I washed my tongue round inside his hot boy face-hole.  “You know I’ve paid to watch you die tonight, whore-boy?”   The slim, young slut-whore started to tremble violently.  He obviously didn’t know.  I was enjoying this.   I could hear the sailor boy slapping the cunt, and its screams of protest.  He called through.

 

“In the arena a the moment, sir, they have a young big-titted cunt eating shit straight from the tap, as it were.”

 

“One of you young studs, is it?”

 

“Yes, sir, as a matter of coincidence it’s my brother shitting in the whore’s mouth. My twin brother.”

 

“Oh nice,” I said.  I returned my attention to my trembling cunt-boy. He spoke to me.

 

“May I ask you a question, sir?”  I knew what it was going to be.

 

“You are going to ask me if it will be quick, aren’t you, cunt boy?”  I had already decided to lie – deliciously lie – to the pathetic slut-boy.

 

“Yes, sir, will it be quick?  I’m such a pussy, sir, such a coward, I can’t stand pain. Please let it be quick, I’ve heard such terrible things, sir.”

 

“Well, put it like this,” I paused to enjoy the inside of his whore-boy face-hole again.  “If you, yourself, put on a spectacular performance for me in the next few hours, if you really, really please me - like no other cunt-boy ever has, then I’ll make sure your death lasts ten minutes at the most, just long enough for me to enjoy it.  How’s that sound?”

 

“That’s wonderful, oh thank you, sir.”  The smelly young cunt-boy was crying buckets of tears in gratitude.  “Of course you must enjoy watching me die, sir, I know that’s part of my function, what I was born for, but in return, sir …  “ he paused to fucking pant like an animal, his tongue out, licking my face, “I fucking love, sexy older men!”    He returned to his subject, “In return, sir, for a quick ... horribly painful …but quick, death, I’ll give you the best show I can, sir, I promise, sir.”

 

“Come into the booth.”  The slut-boy did.  We were greeted by the sight of the sailor stud-whore fucking and tit-and-face slapping the fuck-and-suck slut, who was crying and begging.

 

He said over his shoulder to me, “It’s a fucking cunt, sir, it deserves all we can give it!”

 

“Right, boy.  Just don’t break any bones, doesn’t matter about bruises, of course, or what you do to the fuck-hole.”

 

“Fuck yeah, sir!”  He continued to entertain me, thrusting his hard young cock up the whore and slapping its face and tits alternately, and spitting on it.  I gave him a cigarette, but he left it dangling in his hot mouth, I didn’t light it.  I spoke to the slut-boy.

 

“Cunt-boy, here’s your task.”

 

“Yes, sir, anything, sir.”

 

“First you are to get fucking horny, and stay like that.”

 

“I’m always horny, sir.”

 

“Yes, but I want to hear it.  I want to hear you saying you fucking want cock, you fucking live for cock, and ass, and shit and piss and anything filthy you can think of, the more disgusting the better.”

 

“Yes, sir.  It’s true anyway, sir, I’ve been trained to fucking live for cock, and anyway, it’s genuine, I truly love shit and piss, I fucking love disgusting filth, sir, I really do.  I’m immensely proud of being a fucking revolting pig whore-boy, sir. I was given a prize by my trainer for being the most fucking degenerate whore-pussy-boy in my group, sir.”  What a sexy slim, teenage boy!

 

“All the better, but I want it energetic with grunts and moans, ok, slut?  And don’t stop unless I tell you, I want to hear you continuously groaning in fucking lust in the background.”

 

“Of course, sir, you will, sir.”

 

“In the alcove there’s hot chilli paste stuff?

 

“It’s always provided, sir.”

 

“Pack your disgusting fuck-hole with it.”

 

“Yes, sir.  It’ll really burn me up there.  I’ll do anything you tell me to, sir, I’m your disgusting cunt-boy, sir.  Tonight I’ll be the best fucking pig I’ve ever been, sir. Just for you, sir.”

 

“Good, because before you cram your fuck-hole with that burning paste I want you to shit in the corner.  You are ready for that?”

 

“Oh yes, I’m always prepared for whatever the client wishes in that department.”

 

“Shit in a manner that allows me a clear view of the turds dropping …”

 

“I only ever shit for an audience, sir. It’s a waste, otherwise.”

 

“When the turds are on the floor, make love to them, worship your shit.  Lick it, sniff it, savour it, a good performance remember.”

 

“Of course, of course, I haven’t forgotten, sir. I love being covered in shit, sir.”

 

“I want you to eat it.”

 

“Oh but I wouldn’t have expected not to, sir.”  This sexy slut, slim pussy boy telling me he expected to eat his shit for me …

 

“Then vomit, and eat it again.  Do that about half a dozen times, and keep up the fucking energetic dirty talk.  Oh, and if you want to piss on yourself, get it in the mouth, and I expect to see you covered in your own shit and vomit before long. And I want to see you fucking loving it, you repulsive little piece of fuck-meat!”

 

“I will love it, sir.  Shall I begin, sir?”  I nodded and he moved to the corner to start his disgusting performance. He pushed his sexy young butt with its gaping fuck-hole and loose, flapping lips, in my direction, and he was speaking in a sort of pig-snuffle – he was grunting that he … fucking loved cock, lived for cock etc.  Then smelly, shiny boy-shit literally poured out of his ruined, boy fuck-hole – his loose, flapping lips barely touching the turds as they flowed.  I hope you are enjoying this, men?  Disgusting enough for you, I trust?

 

My huge, thick cock was out and rock solid.  A fucking hard erection was all I needed for the moment.  I had had it out since watching the hot, young sailor boy shave and get his cock sucked, I had been dripping precum on the slut-boy while I had pushed my boot up his ruined fuck-hole.

 

Now, I lit sailor boy’s cigarette, and close up he looked me full in the face and smiled, with just a hint of a raised eyebrow – his cock still ploughing in and out of the cunt, he was telling me just how debauched he was going to get for me later.  He didn’t need to say a word.  It was the hottest moment so far. 

 

Actually I knew I was in the most enjoyable macho competition with this young stud – I was glad I didn’t let him see me sucking face with the cunt-boy.  The adrenaline of the competition drove me now.  I picked up a cane and started to cane the huge, jutting tits of the first screaming exhibit with skill and determination.  The cunt lived up to its nomenclature.

 

“Really nice, sir,” said sailor boy, grunting with sadistic, voyeuristic pleasure and genuine - I thought - admiration. I laid into the massive fucking tits with all my strength, hoping to destroy them.  A cane of course couldn’t achieve that, all though the damage was enough to be gratifying, I would destroy them totally later.

 

I watched the arena.  It was their standard magic act, I’d seen it before, it was usually put on as part of the warm-up.  The magician – a distinguished-looking, older man, produced various objects from the disgusting orifices of a couple of big titted young whores - streams of ribbons, bunches of flowers, a pigeon – produced with great aplomb from cunt’s revolting fuck-hole.   I always liked it when the struggling, live rabbit came out of one cunt, and then with the help of a rapidly and viciously inserted funnel went back up the arse of the other.  The relief of the one who had presumably had this animal up its fuck-hole since it had made its entrance into the arena, and the horrible contortions of the other who now had a live rabbit fighting for its existence right up its shit-hole – it was a good act.  It even got a round of applause from some of the clients in the viewing booths, which is rare for a warm-up act.

 

Sailor boy was still engaged in his violent fucking of the fuck-and-slut whore, smoking, slapping and spitting, and calling it a loathsome fucking cunt.  All of which I liked, but I wanted to see him being more violent, so I suggested he swap to one of the screaming exhibits.

 

“Oh, thank you, sir, just what I needed, I really need to hurt a cunt badly, now.”

 

“I know you do, and I want to watch you, son.”  He smiled at me, almost coquettishly, but still keeping his masculinity intact.  He was fucking good at his job, perfect for me, he knew he was flirting with me, knew it turned me on, but knew I didn’t want anything overtly gay from him.

 

The third male in the booth was squeaking, “Oh sir, please sir, thank you for letting me show you what a pig I am, sir, I fucking love this stinking shit, oh yes, fuck, mmm, I love my shit!  Thank you, sir, for letting me lick … mmm, yes, I love it … thank you for letting me lick my stinking shit!”

 

Pussy boy in the corner was working like crazy to diminish his death agonies – pointless as you know, fellow sadists, as I had no intention of diminishing this fucking cunt-boy’s appalling death agonies by one fucking jot!  Fucking lovely!  On the contrary because I knew he was a terrified, fucking scared little pussy I was going to enjoy myself by extending his death agonies and multiplying them as much as was humanly possible - his continuous screams of agony would be the background to the last few hours of this session. I knew you would be pleased to hear me reiterate this, men. 

 

In fact let me say it again - this degenerate, cock-crazed, shit-eating fucking pussy boy was going to take fucking hours to die, in the most terrible pain I could think of   In fact I might pay for one of the experts to come in and help me extend his agonies even further. Actually, as it turned out, I didn’t need to do this, I was sufficiently inspired to do it beautifully myself.

 

Poor fucking cunt-boy, hoping for mercy, he licked away at his disgusting excrement and sucked up his own slimy, smelly shit into his young boy face-hole.  It was with considerable relish that I anticipated the pleasure of betraying his young, innocent trust.

 

I have to say that I am so grateful that this Palaestra programme exists, allowing me, and so many of us, as it does, to harmlessly indulge our desire to be evil incarnate for a few hours.  Evil?  No other word for it - it helps, fellow sadists, to say the obvious, occasionally.  Sorry if my enthusiasm is a little bit much but the awful and cruel deception of this poor young cunt-boy, and the coming revelation of his betrayal was, in itself, unbelievably enjoyable.  Thank you, government!

 

I hope you haven’t forgotten the appalling stink in this place, dear readers.  You would have adored it.  There was the immediate stink of fresh boy shit in the booth, plus the ever-present piped smells, which seemed to vary from minute to minute.  Now it was the sweet, decaying smell of totally rotting cunt.  It had such an effect on me. 

 

Have you noticed something about the imagination? – no matter how hard you try - can you recall actual smells? – the visual imagination, and aural imagination even, work overtime, but smells you have to experience, long to experience.  But when they are there, a particular special stink – boy, it sends the other senses into over-drive!

 

I told the fuck-and-suck slut to fuck herself continually with objects from the alcove – “Use anything but a dildo, you fucking cunt, and it had better be energetic if you don’t want a bad report.”  Fuck-and-suck sluts with bad reports were downgraded to screaming exhibits for the next performance.  She didn’t want a bad report, men.  Although I had to return it alive, no bones broken, relatively unbruised, it didn’t matter what the client did to the fuck-hole – one was expected to ruin the cunts and shit-holes of the fuck-and-suck sluts.  With a bit of basic surgery –no anaesthetic ever used of course - they could still perform in future.

 

Fucking handsome sailor-boy had unshackled the two screaming exhibits, anticipating, rightly, that I would like to fuck one with him.  These moronic, huge-titted young cunts readily submitted to our instructions even when unrestrained – at least they weren’t being boiled alive in the arena was their level of thinking, in as much as they could think.  The fact that these stupid cunts were sensate enough to exist without hope and live in a state of constant despair – if they lived beyond one session – this was unutterably beautiful, and made us – at least those of us with social responsibility - not only immensely grateful to our enlightened government but also intensely proud of the strength and wisdom of our newly instituted male democracy. 

 

When they reach the right age, very early teens, the “awareness training” of the cunts consisted, so I’ve been told, of mainly be forced to watch what happens to other screaming exhibits, in booths and the arena.  They are told that the same and worse is going to happen to them.  They go insane with terror quite quickly – doesn’t matter, they can still be herded with whips and electric cattle prods..  If they show talent as a fuck-and-slut cunt, they avoid this level of despair with the thought that they can escape ultimate torture by their expertise.  And very rarely this has happened: in a few cases – fuck-and-suck sluts have been so efficient and talented, and in such demand they have not been downgraded and earned a measure of stability.  But most fuck-and-suck sluts despite their daily grind, effort and dedication to being the perfect whore, end up being tortured to death, horribly and at great length, which in itself was nice.

 

Sailor boy quickly and efficiently produced all the basic implements we might want to use and laid them to hand.  And then, almost in unison we inserted our hard cocks up the cunts.  We smiled at each other, and were both smoking and both had a good view of the arena.  The fuck-and-suck slut shoving the pineapple up its loathsome fuck-hole was to one side in view and I told the pussy boy to vomit his next stomach load of shit in the other corner where I could see him without turning.

 

I started by burning the tits of my cunt with my cigarette, the sailor boy followed suit.  He looked at me.  I stubbed out my cigarette in the open eye of my cunt, sailor boy followed suit.

 

He handed me another cigarette and took one himself, he lit mine then his, neither of us missed a fucking beat in our fucking.

 

“Fucking good, sir!”

 

“Fucking right, boy!  Fuck the whores!”  And we rammed together.  “Slap their fucking faces, boy!”  And we did.  “Now the fucking big tits!”  And we did.  Fuck yeah!

 

The fucking revolting pussy boy was puking up the shit for the second time – I think – he was a trembling wreck already, sweaty and disgusting, wonderfully pathetic.  “Lick it up, there’s a good boy, get your tongue in that disgusting vomit, eat up your shitty sick!  Hey, haven’t forgotten the chilli paste, slut, have you?”  He had.  He staggered to the alcove and fetched the tub.  Lay down in the pile of his shitty sick, scooping it up he smeared it over his hot, attractive, young pussy-boy face, his tongue lapping eagerly at the disgusting goo, then, without hesitation he proceeded to shove handfuls of the burning paste up his gaping boy fuck-hole. 

 

After only a couple of seconds he began to scream, but he didn’t stop piling the stuff up there.  He desperately wanted to impress me – ah, nice! – and besides he knew the agony lasted at most twenty minutes, after that the lining of the arse was desensitised and it started to numb.  The death agonies he was hoping to avoid, but wouldn’t – sad! - would last several hours.  If he knew at this moment what unbelievable torture would come his way later on he would have literally gone insane with terror.  But at this point I hadn’t even thought about the actual mechanics of the pain, I just knew it was going to be terrific.

 

The story of this boy’s last twelve hours of life is in itself a fascinating thing, totally tragic for him, but to nobody else.  His horrible death was actually of supreme importance to the well-being of the wider-world:  it was a real pity he wouldn’t be able to see it like that.  Well, that’s not entirely true, as you have already seen, these fucking whore pussy-boys were trained to embrace their station in life, it was only when the pain reached the monumental stage that, unfortunately, these cunt-boys wanted to give up on their duty.

 

To return to the sailor boy and I and the screaming exhibits on the end of our cocks -  I decided to skewer the huge fucking tits of mine, while sailor boy picked up the pliers and started to remove a few teeth of his.  These cunts, despite their massive tits were of slight build, “petite cunts” you might say, keeping them comfortably on our cocks while performing these actions was not a problem.  Sailor boy had considerately taken off and stowed away his pristine white uniform before he began his activities with his screaming exhibit.  Charmingly, he still kept his white hat on the back of his head.

 

In the arena the main show was about to begin.  Unlike conventional performances there was no expectant hush in the auditorium, the screams of agony from the booths (which were all open to the arena unless, as I said, the client chose privacy, very few did) the screams of agony were constant, and the great yells of triumph from the clients.  Plus the unbelievable stink, don’t forget the mind-altering stench – it wasn’t a drug, just the pure and various stinks of human waste which was intoxicating.  In all it was a unique ambience – the essence of which is almost impossible to convey – but I am trying, men.

 

Imagine a mass sadists’ football match, think of the screams of agony as the yells of encouragement to the team.   If I may be so bold as to predict - what was about to happen in the arena will surpass your wildest dreams of what a sexual entertainment could consist – I apologise in advance if I have over-stepped the mark here, if you can envision more excesses, I would love to hear them – EricBoss1a@hotmail.co.uk.

 

It occurs to me that as a thoughtful reader – which you certainly are – and an analytical reader profoundly interested in all aspects of human nature – which you also certainly are – that you would be curious about how the individual clients’ psychology would be able to cope with this extraordinary level of violence and degradation?   Surely it would be like being in the middle of a medieval battlefield, a melee of blood, severed limbs, decapitation and unutterable terror?  Or an inter-tribal massacre in a village in Africa, machete-wielding, hate-filled natives exterminating a rival race – the chopping-off of limbs in a frenzy of violence?  Even the most dedicated sadist would find it hard to enjoy, surely he’d be terrified himself that the violence would be directed towards his own person at any minute?   There could be no safety for the perpetrators – no matter how many assurances were given by the management?

 

This is a very, very perceptive point you have made, men, and I’m glad to be able to answer it, as it may have an important bearing on the state of your hardon – it does on mine – and is there anything more important?  I think not.

 

It’s simple, real values had at last asserted themselves.  Thousands and thousands of cunts and cunt-boys were bred worldwide for pain, and nothing else. Fuck yeah! It was the norm – I can’t emphasise this enough - it was expected.  Obviously thousands of the fucking cunts were reserved for breeding but when they had dropped as many as possible they were used for other purposes, one of which will be shown later. Compassion or care for fucking cunts in any other way than as sex objects was a state crime, involving the worst sanctions – public humiliation – but in any case it was rare to the point of abnormality.  Humanity had finally recognised the absolute priority of the male erection, and society was dedicated to that. Life was about the fucking hard cock!  Got it?  The world had never known such harmony.   Simple, so every client in the Palaestra felt totally at home, and could enjoy himself without any qualms, doubts or quibbles.

 

The performance in the main arena did not, as you might expect begin with less impact stuff and build up to a climax, it started at full pelt and went up from there. 

 

Loud rock music, an overpowering stench of shit and suddenly - barbed metal spikes emerged from the floor all over the arena, while dozens of fucking huge-titted, fourteen-year-old cunts – mmm nice - were brought screaming into the large space by groups of fantastic, young muscle-men whores, all naked with throbbing hardons.

 

Men, you may have heard of similar acts elsewhere, but I doubt if you will have come across it on this scale - each of the dozens and dozens of big-titted young cunts was placed, screaming and struggling- ah sweet, as if the fucking cunts could avoid appalling pain - on the tip of the spike – fuck-hole first – the spikes began moving up and down, gently, barely perceptible, only an inch or so to begin with – the young studs moved each of the cunts in a circular motion slowly round on the spike holding it by its extended fucking legs and arms if necessary  – the spikes gradually increased their speed and depth until after about ten minutes the muscled men-whores could let go of the cunts leaving the revolting, agonised whore deliciously impaled – these fantastic young men then concentrated on attacking the cunt as it circled round – whipping the tits, punching its face, anything to increase its agony – occasionally two of these muscle-boys would reach for a leg each and pull the cunt further down on to the spike.  This act only ended when each cunt had the spike emerging through it revolting neck, or the fucking cunt was virtually decapitated, as it did in some cases – the young cunt’s head on top of the spike and the headless body a couple of feet below it with the spike emerging through the neck-hole. It was like cartoon picture, fucking hilarious. The young men took a bow and the dozens of dead pieces of cunt-meat all rapidly disappeared on their spikes through trap doors.

 

They didn’t go in for video screens or monitors to show close ups - the wrong sort of high tech gismos affected the communication of the brutality - the preferred technique was mass demonstrations where each booth was close to some part of the action.  I think they were right, we were within a few feet of two cunts impalations (is that a word? It should be) in this act, and we could witness first hand their individual agonies, watching close up the massive fucking tits jiggling up and down, faster and faster as the whore sank further and deeper onto the lethal spike.  Plus we could cheer on the studs – sailor boy and I did this enthusiastically –  shouting out technical suggestions on how to cause more pain for the cunt – as you would at a boxing match for example.

 

And then there was the glorious view of the dozens of other big-titted, young fucking cunts suffering in the same way stretching over the whole large area.   Each of their fuck-holes had been beautifully prepared to be as revolting, hideous or deformed as possible, as I described earlier, so the huge barbed spike forcing its way up dozens of those utterly disgusting holes seemed somehow so right, so deserved.  I fucking loved it.

 

Fresh supplies of the revolting young whores was not a problem as I said, and these palaestras put on shows once a week, or sometimes twice if there was a public holiday.

 

My pussy-boy was still wretching and convulsing in the corner, he was covered in his shitty vomit, and had his fingers – his whole hand rather – crammed down his mouth-hole.  He was still in agony from chilli paste up his ruined, boy fuck-hole, his whole body was twitching and shining with sweat – he looked seriously ill I’m glad to say.  Fuck yeah!

 

“No slacking cunt-boy, come on get that sick up again!” 

 

“Of course … sir, uuugh!”  He wretched and wretched but nothing more came out of him.  I told him to reach out into the arena and ask one of the guys to feed him some of their shit.  He did.  A really hot muscled picked up some shit from a cunt tits and gave him his hand to lick. Then another hot stud joined him till pussy boy had eagerly chewed and swallowed down three or four big handfuls of hot, muscle-boy shit.  Fucking ace! 

 

“Right, fucking whore-boy, feeling full?”

 

“Oh yes, sir, thank you, sir, I fucking love muscle-boy shit!  Fuck yes, thank you, sir!”

 

“Right now come on, there’s a good pussy-boy, sick up all that nice muscle-boy shit for me, you know you want to, on this cunt’s face.  Open your fucking face-hole, cunt!”   The loathsome fucking cunt did as it was told..  “Do it now, boy!”  I really wanted the screaming exhibit I was fucking and working on covered in his shitty vomit.  He did it and it was, I’m glad to say, appalling to watch him, he was wretching from the depth of his young, pussy boy soul. A weak, sensitive, unmasculine man would have been horrified.  His whole slim whore-boy body was trembling and sweating. It poured out of his young mouth straight into my cunt’s face-hole – I was holding its nose – it filled the cunt’s mouth and throat and the rest covered its revolting young face.

 

I had a couple of dozen skewers decorating the huge tits of my screaming exhibit and sailor boy had removed most of the teeth from his.

 

“Feel like a swap, sir?”   I think he was a touch jealous that mine was covered in vomit.

 

“Good idea, boy.”  I told the pussy boy to eat more shit.  Despite looking like a fucking sexy, young corpse, astonishingly, he looked eager.

 

“Oh, please, sir.  Thank you, sir!  I fucking love shit, I really do!”  I believed him.

 

“Perhaps I should shit in his mouth, sir?”  Oh this sailor boy was brilliant!  He was earning such a big tip.

 

“Be my guest.”  He passed his screaming exhibit to me, I threw mine on the floor – it collapsed in agony, not daring to try to remove any of the skewers in its fucking big tits.  Sailor boy put pussy boy on the floor.  The poor kid remembered he was supposed to be giving the performance of his life – he was compos mentis enough to think of the tortures he was trying to avoid.

 

“Oh thank you, sir, thank for shitting in my mouth.  You are such a hot, sexy guy, I’ll love eating your shit, sir.  Fuck yeah!  I’m so fucking nasty!  Shit in this fucking pig’s mouth, sir. I’m just a young, shit-eating, cock-loving fucking piece of fuck-meat!  Isn’t that true, sir?”  Whoever was responsible for this boy fuck-meat’s training had done an excellent job.

 

“Open your fucking mouth, whore-boy!”   He did.  Fucking hot sexy sailor boy, bent forward so I had a good view of his hot, young hole, and I watched avidly as turds dropped out of that gorgeous sexy, young male orifice directly into little piggy, pussy-boy’s face-hole.

 

Pussy boy couldn’t chew or swallow quickly enough so he let them land on his face and shovelled them into his face-hole as he made room.  It was gloriously disgusting and a nice preliminary to what was about to happen in the arena.

 

Our own fuck-and-slut whore was lying in the other corner vigorously shoving what looked like a bit of a motorcycle engine hard up its cunt, in between slapping its monstrously huge tits – only fourteen remember, men.  It was doing a good job, but I decided to worry it a bit.

 

“Nowhere near fucking good enough, you fucking loathsome whore. A bad report for you, slut.”

 

“Oh no,  this cunt will do much better, sir!”

 

The whore immediately transferred the piece of metal to its shit-hole and rammed it up there, screaming.  I liked it. 

 

I decided at that point I was going to give this so sweet, young and desperate fuck-and-suck slut a fucking bad report no matter how well it performed.   Ah, how could I be so dishonest?  Because it was enjoyable, you fuckers!   Sometimes you try my patience.

 

Men, next time I came to the Palaestra I could look out for this particular whore in the arena, perhaps being burned alive – slowly, with a blow-torch, or hanging with hooks through those massive tits and being swung about over the arena and used as target practice for archery - I could enjoy the fact I had put it there completely unfairly, that despite its best efforts – I had betrayed it.

 

Got it, now?  Really!  That would be nice for my cock and nothing, fucking nothing, else matters..  I congratulated myself on my inventiveness, and so should you..  Betrayal is a fucking fundamental turn-ons, you should know that – I looked at pussy boy, vigorously eating shit.

 

Sailor boy finished shitting, moved over and sat on the fuck-and-suck slut’s face for it to clean his hole, and put a cigarette in his mouth.  He winked at me.  He couldn’t have looked better.

 

Arena, second item - one of the displays that the Palaestra of Grossness was famous for, what made it distinctive and stand out from the others.

 

All the studs stayed in the arena, doing a bit of cock thrusting and showing their fuck-holes while the next load of cunts emerged – from the same trap doors, there must be an army of stage hands below, removing the dead fuck-meat and replacing it with live.  Anyway a fresh lot of huge-tittted young cunts emerged all over the arena.  These cunts were dressed as porn-stars and had obviously been allowed time to do make up and hair and that sort of shit. These fucking revolting, moronic cunts began to pose, getting their huge tits out and juggling them for the boys, who of course, had only one response.

 

Sneering at them, casually but viciously slapping them, spitting at them (some of the men really liked showing off how well they could spit)  and sharing their contempt for the revolting cunts with each other, the studs began pissing on the whores, having fun with their aim, and distance and height and so on..

 

The cunts, knowing their places, knelt down, stuck out their tongues, offered their huge tits up to the piss-streams and put on a good show of loving man-piss.  It made me feel so fucking violent, I began to hack at my screaming exhibit’s massive tits with a scalpel, and I’m no surgeon.  Sailor boy, not to be outdone, I’m delighted to say, began fucking punching the face of the cunt stuck on his cock, hard, really fucking hard, over and over.  That was good. 

 

The screaming exhibits were both quite bloody by now and so were we, I fucking loved it.  In front of us, close by, there were two fucking young, huge-titted cunts, on their knees being hosed down by half a dozen young studs each.  Contempt for cunts was beautifully embodied by this tableau.  Then one of the studs held a cunt by the neck and forced its face up another stud’s shit-hole.  And they began shitting in the cunt’s face-hole.  Fuck yeah!  One after another the studs dropped their turds in the cunt’s fucking mouth.  So much shit, the cunts got covered in it.  The studs massaged it into the fucking huge tits.  They were inventive in the way they forced the cunts to accept the shit.  The group near us turned the cunt upside down, forced open its fuck-hole – with a handy implement which kept it gaping, and one athletic stud dropped three good turds right up its cunt.  All over the arena, these glamorous, made-up, hair-coiffed, porn-styled, big-titted young cunts were being plastered in shit.  It was matted into their fucking hair, their noses, ears and eyes.  Near us, the guys held its nose and shovelled it in its fucking mouth.  I was having a great time carving up my screaming exhibit and fucking like a bull.

 

Then came the vomiting.  Again all over the arena these cunts were throwing up shit, the studs were forcing hands down their disgusting throats to make the cunts vomit, and then the shitty contents of their stomachs were rubbed in their faces and hair, and the cunts were being forced to eat it.  Really revolting and artistically done.  I fucking loved it.  Ever seen film of hot farms hands shearing sheep – it was nothing like this, its just that I’m struggling to describe the way these hot, young men treated the fucking cunts – as animals, animals to be made to perform for their amusement.  Just as we are carnivores and use animals for food, cunts were there to used for male fun.  Simple.  As a matter of interest, these shit-and-vomit cunts weren’t destroyed, that was saved for the second half – you’ll see.

 

I called pussy boy over to vomit sailor boy’s shit into the mouth of the bloodied, screaming exhibit, which was attached to my cock.  He staggered to his feet.

 

“Yes, sir, of course, sir.  I’d love to be sick for you, again, sir,”  He vomited in the cunt’s mouth as instructed and then collapsed.  I kicked him, but he was out.  He’d recover.

 

Arena, item three.  Now this was really controversial, but the artist managers had persuaded the authorities that they weren’t breaking the rules.  The cunts and cunt-boys used in this act looked so fucking young – they really looked like kids.  But we had been assured that none was younger than fourteen, documentary proof of age available  – but I wouldn’t have been surprised if some officials hadn’t been bribed – some of these cunts and cunt-boys were very, very young looking.

 

Because the supply of this specialised, really young-looking fuck-meat was limited the arena was not filled.  The arena was vast, not quite the size of a football pitch but extensive, surrounded as it was by a couple of thousand booths in tiers – ground floors booths definitely the best. But to enable the clients to have a close up view of the fucking great horrors, the directors had come up with an alternative to video screens; the arena as already demonstrated had complex hydraulics built in - these teenagers were tortured on a few moving platforms that travelled around the edges of the arena, changing height as they went, it was very artistic.

 

I didn’t want pussy boy to miss this act, it would increase his terror.  I got the suck-and-fuck slut to piss on him – it lowered its revolting fuck-hole to his face and let loose.  It is very unusual for a screaming exhibit, of whatever gender, to pass out, as these categories and those used in the arena are pumped full of some drug that prevents this escape from pain.  I can only assume that repeated vomiting must traumatise the system so much that it overcame the drug, or perhaps they didn’t give him a big enough dose.  Anyway the cunt-boy came round and stood next to me while I continued to fuck and hack the cunt on my big, thick cock.  He was shivering from head to foot.

 

“I am being a fucking good piece of fuck-meat, aren’t I, sir?  I’ve never been more revolting in my whole whore-pussy-boy career than I have tonight, for you, sir.  Sir, may I say, sir, I fucking love your big, thick cock sir, I would die to be fucked by you, sir.”

 

“You will, cunt-boy.”

 

“But not in too much pain, please, sir.  I’ve been as totally filthy as you wanted, haven’t I sir?  Can I do anything else disgusting for you?  Anything at all unbelievably fucking dirty, that you would like to see?  Would you like me to slowly suck up this blood, like this, leaving my tongue hanging out, and chew on bits of this cunt’s flesh so you can see the whole whore better?  Or I can take these bits of its tits and shove them up my ruined fuck hole – like this, see there’s plenty of room.”  He sparked with inspiration, “I know - I can get both my fists up my hole for you, sir!  Watch, sir.  Or I could get that small, long and thin wire brush, and dip it in some bleach and shove it  fucking hard up the piss-hole in my cock – the pain is beyond belief, it really is, sir, but I’ll do for you.  I’ve done that before and I can take it, I’ll shove it in and out of my fucking hard boy-cock till you tell me to stop, sir.  I’ll be screaming my fucking pussy-boy head off, sir.”

 

“Shut-the-fuck up and watch these teenagers in agony!”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

On the moving platform by our booth there was one of the very young cunts – luckily this one although appearing about ten or eleven (but actually over fourteen, proof on file – ok?) had unnaturally huge tits – a real freak – or a manufactured freak more likely- and a young boy-cunt who looked well under puberty (but over fourteen, fucking proof available) a really young kid as regards his face and body – but he had a monster size cock – almost as big as mine – it was obscene.  I was surprised they were going to torture two such valuable freaks to death, but these palaestra programmes? no expense spared I guess.

 

The way they were going to do it – on this platform anyway – was such fun.  Men have you ever seen the “Ultimate Fighting Championships” – two fucking hot, muscle-men fucking punching and kicking the shit out of each other in an octagonal cage?  No boxing gloves – loads of bruising and loads of fucking blood.  Great, you should watch it.

 

It was an octagonal wire cage with metal supports – unlike the TV show these supports were not padded to protect the fighters.  Two of the more muscular stud-boys – say, in the light to middleweight category, with the satin shorts and knuckle protectors – only they weren’t fighting each other – they were fucking destroying these two teenagers.  Fuck yeah!  Tossing these two freaky, very young and vulnerable teenagers between them and punching and kicking the shit out of them.  Fucking glorious!

 

So cruel!  How could anyone treat what were practically children with such brutality!  Oh, shut the fuck up, you wimp!  Get some therapy, get in touch with your fucking masculinity for god’s sake and let the rest of us enjoy these two young teenagers being smashed to a bloody pulp. Eh men?  I know you agree. They were punching and kicking them to death - thoroughly enjoying the satisfying encouragement they were getting from the clients in the booths near to them.

 

Occasionally they’d allow - say the boy – to remain on the floor, groaning and bleeding while the one Ultimate type Fighter would hold the young, massive-titted cunt for the other one so that he could really lay into those aforementioned fucking obscenely-huge tits.  Actually he alternated between the tits and the face.  Fuck yeah!  He smashed the cunt in the face-hole, then both eyes and then broke its nose – fucking great!  I was a bit concerned - I hope he didn’t damage his hands.  Such good clean fun – then he would aim kick after booted kick up its young cunt. Fucking destroying it!   So good.  The cheers were tremendous, good-humoured and as I said, really encouraging for the stud, whore-boy performers.

 

Then they’d throw the spectacularly young, monstrously-titted whore at one of the metal supports to break a few bones and turn their attention to the slight-looking, big-cocked young boy.  Holding him up really high, he was such a slip of a thing, the other guy could get in really vicious upper-cuts – one after the other - to his young balls. Such vicious, gratuitous brutality was so good for my cock.  Fuck yeah!

 

The stud fighter looked fucking superb doing this, his handsome, masculine face contorted in anger.  The boy meanwhile was screaming piteously and in complete agony – but his huge young cock was totally hard – a drug I suppose.  And not a fucking soul in the world – any that mattered that is – would have pity for this young teenager’s agony – we all wanted for him was more,and more and more pain.  The more terrible the better.  Fuck yes!  Fucking pain for this boy!  Nothing else.

 

After dozens of great, satisfying blows to his destroyed young balls he would similarly be thrown against one of the metal supports, satisfyingly breaking several bones, and they would start again on the big-titted teenage cunt.

 

“Enjoying this, pussy boy?”  He’d turned green and tears were streaming down his young, pretty-boy face.

 

“I hope it’s entertaining enough for you, sir?”  What a diplomatic answer from a soon to be tortured to death – lingeringly and fucking agonisingly – young cunt-boy.

 

“Oh yes, it’s very entertaining.  Now, while I continue fucking this cunt and cutting it fucking tits to ribbons I want your hot young mouth on my shit hole.”

 

“I’d be honoured to eat your wonderful shit, sir.”

 

“Of course you would, boy, but I’m not going to shit in your mouth.”

 

“I’d be thrilled to stick my tongue up your hole, sir, to give you pleasure.”

 

“Shut the fuck up!  I want you to dig in there with your hot boy tongue, and then suck the shit out of my arse, ok boy?  I want you to suck the shit out of my arse, and when you have a mouthful, don’t swallow, come round first and show it to me in your disgusting face-hole.”

 

“With pleasure, sir.”  He attacked my arse-hole like a vacuum-cleaner – I had rarely come across a more motivated cunt-boy.  As I wasn’t contributing any muscular effort to expel any shit, he really had to get his tongue up there with fucking energy and suck like fucking crazy to get at my turds.  He succeeded, a few bits broke off and he sucked them triumphantly into his face-hole

 

Meanwhile, hot, handsome sailor-boy showed me his latest toy that he was using – it was a viciously spiked sheath, which fitted quite safely over his great hard cock, he was methodically destroying the screaming exhibit’s cunt with it.  He smiled at me.

 

“Nice little gadget, sir.”  He wasn’t smoking now, he was chewing gum and grinning at me like a naughty boy while blood was pouring out of the cunt’s revolting fuck-hole and running down his legs.  “Ooops!”  he said.

 

A quick inventory to remind you what we had done so far to the screaming exhibits.  To the whore sailor-boy was working on –

 

kicks, face punches and slaps from me on entering – to take off the edge off

 

cigarette burns on the tits, and cigarette stubbed out in only one eye – me, nice

 

skewers, lots of them, through the massive tits, I’d done this as well

 

vicious face punching – from sailor boy – to totally destroy the face, break as many face bones as possible

 

spiked sheath to fucking destroy the cunt-hole from the inside, sailor-boy was working on this now

 

I leaned across and with the scalpel – had to be careful, mustn’t cut myself or wonderful sailor-boy, sliced through the tendons and muscles that connected the arm to the cunt’s body, it was flailing its arms about annoyingly.  I lent him the scalpel as I couldn’t reach the other arm from the position I was in, that is, fucking my own screaming exhibit.

 

“Thanks, mate!  Great idea, that’s much better now.  I can do this side.”  Note the subtle change from “sir” to “mate”.  Fucking great, this whore-boy!  Pussy-boy was obediently showing me the few bits of shit in his mouth.

 

“Ok, spit them in fuck-and-suck’s face-hole, mix it with the spit in there and then suck it out again, and show me the mess on your fucking tongue.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Fuck-and-suck was still ramming the piece of motorcycle up its shit-hole, but was now trying to force an oval football up its disgusting cunt as well.

 

“Be a good piece of fuck-meat, and shove that football up its cunt while you’re down there.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

In the arena we’d seen more very young looking whores and whore-boys tortured to death in different ways – I liked the one where first the young, massive-titted cunt had acid poured up its fuck-hole – similarly the boy’s shit-hole – they let them scream, run around and roll about in unspeakable agony for a good few minutes. 

 

On this particular platform the directors had instructed the men to take a break at this point – two stud boy-whores, and a muscleman:  the muscleman lit a cigar, the boys lit cigarettes, they all had beers, and ignored the screaming, agonised teenagers except when they felt like giving them a really good vicious kick, push, slap or punch occasionally - it was a good touch, typical of the thoughtful attention to detail that went into these Palaestra programmes.

 

After this break the strong-gloved muscle-man forced his hand up the young cunt and with extraordinary force pulled its insides out through the fuck-hole, another of the boy-whores helpfully held the obscenely big-titted young cunt by the hair, but such a delicate little cunt didn’t need much holding. 

 

The internal organs were a different matter - even with the acid working on the tissues it was a tough task – I was full of admiration for the strength of his forearms and his grip – must have taken terrific strength. 

 

Men, you trying pulling a piece of raw steak apart – same problem. 

 

Then of course, he did the same with the sweet, angelic-looking, young boy-teenager - gloved fist up the shit hole, and messy meat out through the shit-hole.

 

Thanks to the effective drugs with which the young teenagers had been prepared they didn’t miss a moment of this exquisitely brutal agony, the muscleman showed them each their insides, holding the offal in front of their sweet, young, traumatised faces before he and the assisting studs just trampled these young pieces of whore-meat to death beneath their feet.  Wow!  Such fucking hot sexy men!

 

I gave this muscleman a really good cheer, I would have thrown money but my hands were occupied at the time destroying a pair of huge tits.

 

Arena, item four.  This was an entirely new addition to the programme – mass hanging of cunts.  As you would imagine most of the items on the programme were recycled week after week but with different touches, different fuck-meat of course, but basically the same effects.  But they tried to include at least one entirely new item every few weeks and phase out an old one.  This was the new one. 

 

One of the songs from the musical “Grease”  blared out.  Dozens of the young studs ran into the space and stood in small groups all over the arena: they were dressed as if from the musical, slicked back hair, jeans, various denim or black leather jackets or plaid, sleeveless waistcoats, they stood dancing and smoking with their cocks out, hard and stroking.  Meanwhile one or two piercing beams of light shone down from the roof area, and lowered into these light-beam was a hanging cunt – also dressed in fifties get-up, short tops, jean, sunglasses and stuff. 

 

I may not have made this clear - the cunt was hanging by the neck: fighting for its fucking last breath, fucking loathsome whore, as it was slowly lowered into the arena. Would it be alive by the time it reached the ground?  One by one more beams of light shone down and hanging cunts appeared continually till the arena was filled with strangulating fucking cunts, must have been more than a hundred, descending and arriving at different times among the groups of boys on the ground.  It was terrific and so well co-ordinated, it seemed as if strangulating cunts were descending endlessly and of course their wild kicking, grappling at the ropes, gasps and gurgles on the way down were just wonderful.  The stage-hands in the flies must have been having a great time too, tightening the noose around each cunt’s neck, waiting for the “go” from the stage-manager to start hanging and lowering the cunt.  Fuck yeah!  Good fucking job.

 

When each cunt was lowered enough to reach the group of boys I assume they improvised on how to increase the cunts’ death agonies - most of the fucking loathsome whores were still alive - just - by the time the reached the ground. 

 

Some of the boys leapt up and hung on a cunt’s legs as soon as they could, others jumped up and hit them to get them swinging wildly around.  Anyway as soon as they were within reach they removed the noose and fucked the half-dead cunts, fuck-hole, ass and mouth, threw them around of course, like fucking rag-dolls, punching, kicking, slapping – generally having fun fucking the cunts to death 

 

About half of the groups were joined by dog-handlers who ascended with their animals from the trap doors - so the lucky half-dead cunts nearby were fucked to death by dogs – I think I saw a pig come up one trap-door but it was on the other side of the arena. 

 

At the end of the act the fuck-meat was left on the trap doors and the dead stuff disappeared.  The boys, really laughing, they had clearly enjoyed this new act a lot, took a bow.  They were greeted with an ovation - it was evidently a hugely popular new attraction and I’m sure it would be a big hit, bound to be included in every programme from now on.

 

Pussy-boy was standing in front of me, tongue out - covered in my now fuck-and-suck slut spit-slimy shit.  He was panting like a revolting dog, trying not to suck up the slimy shit which was dripping off his tongue but he was angling his head to keep it on the tongue in his wide-open young-boy mouth for my viewing pleasure. 

 

On the floor, fuck-and-suck slut was groaning in appalling pain, crying and begging – if there’s one thing I fucking hate it’s a cunt begging for mercy, makes me so fucking irritated.  I had already decided that this fuck-and-suck cunt would have a bad report just for the fun of it – I now decided to give it a dreaded “black mark” which meant it would achieve punishment status and would feature in the next show in one of the most appalling “tortured to death” scenes. This regime was necessary to keep the stock performing at the highest level for clients.  I told it about my decision.

 

It screamed and cried and all that drivel, just because it had had to force a football up its revolting fuck-hole.  It was oval for god’s sake, it could have been a soccer ball, or a basketball, didn’t the stupid whore know when it was lucky?  And I gave it pussy-boy to help push.

 

Well the whore would pay in a week.  Meanwhile I told it to fuck its shit-hole with the pipe from the motorcycle, and to stop begging instantly or I would complain to the management and ask for it to be flayed alive in the interval in the arena.  It shut up.

 

I forgot to itemise the activities carried out on the screaming exhibit on my cock, let me correct that omission –

 

burned on the tits by sailor boy’s cigarette for openers, cigarette stubbed out – considerately only in one eye

 

most of its fucking teeth brutally pulled out by sailor-boy – such a resourceful and handsome young man

 

tits sliced and hacked by me

 

mouth vomited in by pussy-boy – the vomit was fucking handsome sailor boy’s regurgitated shit to be exact, I hope the fucking cunt was honoured, he was fucking hot

 

Arena, item five, last before the interval.  A half-dozen classically beautiful pussy-boys were lowered from the flies, in harnesses - not being hung – interesting to use these entrances again after the hanging cunts – dressed as angels – vast wings, bits of white see-through, flimsy material, fucking hard throbbing young cocks, huge white dildos rammed up their young boy-holes with long feathers flowing from them.  A spectacular entrance. 

 

Anyway as soon as these fucking tarty, pussy-boys landed, the wings were aggressively ripped off by a group of studs dressed, of course, as devils, each with a huge butt plug up him with a long, forked tail.  Next, with a bit of organising, the fucking pussy-boys were fucked to death by large white horses.  The entrance of these horses into the arena was terrific, worthy of a world-class circus.

 

White dildo’s brutally pulled out, the fucking pussy-boys were fixed on breeding stations then fucked to agonising death by these magnificent white stallions. Obviously the huge white dildos had served the purpose of keeping the fuck-holes open at the required vast size.  Took about twenty minutes to finish them all.  The actual fucking wasn’t that long, but the horses had to been handled gently and it couldn’t be rushed.

 

It was all cleverly arranged to give us a good view of the boys underneath the stallions.   Loads of blood pouring out of fucking ruined angelic boy ass-holes – then, the dead boy-fuck-meat down the trap doors.  The studs and expert animal handlers riding the horses around the arena to take their bows. 

 

To be frank, I think a few of these boys were surviving the horse fucking – probably enjoying it – fucking degenerates - and were discretely strangled by the stud-boys to give the impression they were fucked to death by the stallions.  I liked spotting these “trade secrets”, it made me feel more a part of it all, and I had seen this horse-fucking several times.

 

Back to our booth.  “Let’s hang ‘em, boy, I’ve been inspired,” I said to the handsome young, sailor whore-boy who was still fucking his screaming exhibit with that seductively enjoyable spiked sheath – cunt’s blood everywhere, he was still chewing gum, and grinning like crazy, he must have been enjoying himself. 

 

“Fuck yeah, mate, let’s hang the fucking whores!”  He really was enjoying his job.

There were of course hooks, pulleys and nooses provided and ready to hand.  It was a quick and simple matter to get this two bleeding fucking whores hanging by their necks.

 

I decided to be a little selfish, I had fuck-and-suck slut – just fourteen, massive tits, oval ball jammed up its cunt, and pussy-boy, slim, trembling, shit tongue out and panting, smeared in more shit and sick and no doubt, terrified out of his mind – I had them lick and suck my huge, thick, solid cock – a mere statement of fact, I have no need to boast.  Pussy-boy lovingly coated with the slimy shit from his mouth and he and fuck-and-suck slut slurped it off and swapped shitty kisses around my huge cock.

 

I told sailor boy to keep the bloodied cunts alive as long as possible by transferring a stool from under one set of cunt’s legs to the other.  This way one cunt would almost die and then be given a reprieve.  Naked, blood-covered handsome stud boy, chewing gum and grinning and laughing like anything, performed this unusual function with real skill.  They were both kept alive and tortured in this way for a good half-hour.

 

I had my first cum with both screaming exhibits kicking and fighting and spluttering and then fucking dying.  It was great.  Not least because handsome sailor boy leapt over and surprised me by pushing away the two on their knees and opening his fucking hot sexy mouth – he took out the chewing gum - and took my cum, shooting into his mouth, coating his handsome whore-boy tongue.  It was nice of him to do that, thoughtful, but then he was a trained professional.

 

Well, now we were half an hour into the two-hour interval.  Nothing happening in the arena except cleaning up any remaining blood, gore and shit, the management expected clients to be enjoying themselves in their booths and on the stands.   I was.  I decided we would shower.  Sailor boy called the clean-up staff to get rid of the screaming exhibits fuck-meat and clean the booth.  I took him, suck-and-fuck and pussy-boy into the shower.

 

Before showering I felt like being really gross, I felt I’d been tiptoeing round the full extent of the disgustingly low-levels to which I wanted to descend.  I had the fuck-and-suck slut squat over pussy-boy’s face and let go with its revolting whore shit, it grunted like fucking pig, and then I had him rub it over himself.

 

I had him rub himself all over me and sailor-boy and fuck-and-slut to mix the shit and puke with the blood we were covered with.  Tongues out licking shit and each others hot mouths – an enjoyable disgusting interlude.  We paused still covered in sticky brown stuff and etc.

 

It was exactly the right mood for telling pussy-boy he was going to die in extended agony over the next few hours.

 

While I talked to the pussy-boy, I had sailor-boy pay some attention to fourteen-year-old fuck-and-suck’s shit-hole.  A shower attachment up there, water at full pressure, not to hot or too cold – I’m so fucking considerate.  The cunt’s task was to keep it up there, and lie on the tiles.  Later I wanted to tread on its massive tits and stamp on the football up its revolting fuck-hole while its insides were full to bursting point with water.

 

“Are you gay, boy?”

 

“I don’t know, sir.”  He was rubbing his shitty and sick-covered cock and balls all over mine.

 

“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know if you’re gay?”  Even shit-smeared his young face was so appealing.

 

“I have no preferences of my own, sir, they have been trained out of me.  My only pleasure comes from pleasing clients, sir.  It always makes me happy to see a hard cock, sir, but I don’t mind where my own cock goes.  It goes where the client wishes it, sir.  And my shit-hole is just for use, sir.”

 

“Sailor boy, I want you to fuck pussy-boy.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“His fuck-hole’s so loose and flappy you’ll hardly feel anything so - to make it more interesting for me, stand on the whore’s tits while you’re fucking the boy.”

 

“Fuck yeah, mate!” 

 

“Balance the boy on the on the big lump up the cunt’s cunt.”

 

“Sir, it’s a great idea, but we might kill the cunt.”

 

“Well see if you can do what I want, I don’t care about the expense, I’ll pay the fine.” 

 

I knew they wouldn’t kill the cunt, because they wouldn’t be able to keep their balance.  I slowly massaged my huge cock – lubricated with vomit and shit – while watching these two – handsome stud and slim, pussy-boy -  struggling to stay standing on the cushion-sized tits and football-stuffed cunt of this fourteen year old whore.  It was gross and amusing. 

 

I wanted sailor-boy to cum up the pussy-boy – precisely because I knew he wouldn’t enjoy it as much – but his professionalism never let up for a second.  Picture this and marvel - he was fucking the loose and flappy shit-hole of the boy enthusiastically at the same time as jumping on the fuck-and-suck cunt’s tits causing the pussy-boy to be bounced up and down awkwardly on its stuffed cunt and water-bloated insides.  Watching him I decided I’d do a bit of stamping myself on the cunt but after sailor boy had cum.

 

Sailor boy began to get very aggressive – I thought his efforts might actually break a few ribs in the cunt under him, but the tits were massive and did a great job of lessening the impact.  Of course it didn’t matter what damage was done to the actually fuck-hole anyway – that’s allowed as explained previously – anyway pussy-boy was very light.  Sailor boy was pounding up the pussy-boy.

 

“Come up him, sailor.”

 

“Yes, sir, I’d be delighted, sir.”  Of course, the suck-and-fuck slut had been unable to stay still lying on the tiles, water pouring up its shit-hole, and calmly allow the two males to jump on it.  So they had to stamp on it quite severely and hit it hard with the lavatory brush to keep it in position. 

 

I liked it when sailor boy got so angry he just stood on its face with all his weight.  I do appreciate these primitive brutalities and I was pleased with my suggestion to sailor boy, which had seemed so impractical but proved so entertaining.

 

As sailor-boy came with a nice groan, and the pussy-boy moaned his gratitude I was thinking about the boy’s death tortures.  I realised that I would quite like to extend his agonies over a few days – fuck yeah!  I really would like that – actually I would like to extend his agony over a couple of weeks or more. Would this be possible – I really, really wanted to do it?

 

I could do in the privacy of my own home but no.  While this would be hugely enjoyable it would prohibitively expensive – all sort of regulations to be fulfilled.  Private tortures on pussy-boys and cunts were not encouraged – mainly because it was considered too much of a distraction from work – government was concerned that men would devote themselves solely, day after day, to causing cunts agony, and this would lead to unbridled absenteeism.  Industry had to continue, the country had to be administered, food produced – couldn’t have all the workers sticking red-hot pokers up cunts all day.  Hence the emphasis on the Palaestra programme, which it was hoped, would provide sufficient outlet. 

 

The whole worldwide programme had one, not insignificant, side effect.  Men no longer bothered with “girlfriends” or “wives”.  (No “free” women available in any case.)  Cunts that were used up in the breeding programme did domestic and menial work, but the family, apart from care of sons, was no longer necessary. And this was a shared task now – to make sure all boys developed the correct attitude to the use of cunt.  Of course, boys who showed perverse weak tendencies were immediately shipped off to be trained for pussy-boy use in the Palaestras.

 

If individual men wanted to torture and fuck on a daily basis they could go to the local torture parlour which, although pathetically modest compared to the Palaestra, was often ok for an hour or two in the evening.

 

I’ll just finish this explanation with a gripe, pretty familiar but nonetheless heartfelt.  Top politicians, movers and shakers, multi-billionaires, of course broke all the rules and had cunts on tap for private and extended torture.  It was a well-known open secret although all these top dogs kept up the pretence that they visited the Palaestras just the same as your ordinary Joes and had no special privileges!  Humph!  Nothing ever changes.

 

Enough of this digression, I couldn’t afford to torture this pussy-boy privately, and anyway I’d want a cunt alongside him – I hated feeling “gay” in anyway – it was way out of my price range and I couldn’t afford the time.  However I had decided that since I had about six hours left of this session I would keep him dying very, very slowly in agonisingly terrible pain for that whole time.  I fucking needed it, I was fucking going to have it, this is what I had come for.

 

I wanted a third screaming exhibit and another stud-boy, and I wanted pussy-boy to be given a booster of the conscious raising injection – I know you agree with me, men - I didn’t want him passing out and missing any of the glorious pain I had planned for him.

 

I told sailor-boy and pussy-boy we would shower together, if you remember, dear readers, we were fairly nicely covered in blood and various people’s shit and sick.  Afterwards he could arrange the fresh supplies for me. 

 

While we showered we’d have the fuck-and-suck slut under our feet so we could stamp on it.  I wanted to see if we could make the football eject itself out of the fucking cunt’s cunt..  I really wanted to see it squeezed out and then shooting across the shower room.  We had fun attempting to get this effect. 

 

Feet didn’t do it.  Having got rid of the blood, shit and sick, under the shower, the three of us got on our hands and knees and applied pressure using our hands and arms.  Fuck-and-slut was screaming nicely.  Then, more by luck than judgement, we managed to get our hands in the right position and all pressed at once. The fuck-hole gaped, the cunt screamed as if in childbirth and out it shot!  Goal!  It emerged with such force it shot and slithered along the floor.  We laughed a lot. 

 

Poor pussy-boy, I think, was feeling so good, and part of the group, he forgot temporarily, that he was about to suffer the tortures of hell.  If he remembered he was consoling himself with the thought that it would be quick.  Well, I was about to shatter his illusions.

 

Sailor-boy went in the booth to call for the fresh supplies I wanted.  I told him to wait in there.  Now, how did I want fuck-and-suck and pussy-boy while I told him the good news?  I knew I would sit on the stool and I wanted him on my knee and fuck-and-suck’s face hole on my cock.  No, I would stroke my thick, hard cock myself and I would have my foot up it’s cunt, bare this time, could wiggle the toes – long toenails - I could scratch it painfully inside, and pussy-boy could have his foot up its shit-hole, give him an confusing feeling of domination.

 

We got into position.

 

“Are you comfortable, boy?”  My face was right next to his sweet, freshly soaped and showered, young boy face.

 

“Oh yes, thank you, sir.  If I may say so, sir, you’re the best client I think I can remember.  I feel really good in your company, and I’m glad to be your fucking revolting slut-boy, sir.”

 

“What a nice thing to say, boy.  Now, we have to talk about how you are going to die.”  The fuck-and-suck cunt trembled and pushed its cunt and shit-hole further onto our feet, obviously wanted to please me.  In fact it was now shagging itself enthusiastically on our feet.

 

“I hope I have given satisfaction, sir.”  He paused, his beautiful, sensual mouth trembling.

 

“Oh yes.”  I was rock hard and dripping precum.

 

“I hope I will die in awful pain for you, sir. And that my pain will give you great satisfaction as well, sir.”

 

“Of course, boy, don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure you are in terrible, terrible pain.”  I had to wipe my tongue around his young face-hole, gay or not.  I shoved my foot further up the cunt to neutralise the feeling.  His terror made him so fucking sensual, he wanted to love me, to surrender to me totally.  His unutterable fear made him so fucking horny he couldn’t separate the feelings.  He virtually undulated in my embrace. Blind fear had turned him liquid.  He slid and squirmed on my knee, arms around my neck, hot boy-tongue snaking out of his face-hole, and panting like a dog.

 

“It will … won’t it, please, sir, be … it will be …”  he couldn’t say it.

 

“Quick?”

 

“Yes, sir, please tell me, when it starts it’ll be over very soon.”  I stuck my tongue as far down his throat as I could get it, and fuck-and-slut got my whole foot up its sewer-like fucking cunt.

 

“Umm, no, actually.”  This was said very indistinctly as my tongue was occupied, but he heard it, and backed off slightly.  The look of rising panic in his eyes was fantastic.  I stroked my rock-solid, huge, thick cock vigorously.  “Let me explain, beautiful sexy boy-slut.  You exist only to give me pleasure.”

 

“Or any client.”

 

Oh dear.  Now that was cheeky.  That was self-assertion, that was a big mistake. Now I was angry. Using all my strength, I slapped him fucking hard across the face.  He smashed into the tiled wall and burst into tears.  A pussy-boy is trained to make the client feel that he is the only one in the world, that nothing compares to sex with this client, etc, etc.  Pussy-boy in his terror, and indignation that he was about to be betrayed had instinctively separated himself and said something to give himself an identity other than as my sex-object.  I had paid for him!  For fuck’s sake, I was paying good money to torture this little shit to death, and to make it last as long as I fucking liked!

 

He was cringing and whimpering on the floor.  “Sorry, sir, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me.  I’ve never said anything like that before in my life!”

 

I decided it was better for my cock to forgive him.  I was enjoying being kind to him – it was so much more sadistic than being angry with him.  I put him back on my knee, his foot up the shit-hole, mine up the cunt.”

 

“So since you said, I’m the best client you’ve ever had, I’ll believe you.”

 

“I’ve never said it to anyone before, sir.”  Strangely I thought he was being genuine.

 

“About my “promise” – it doesn’t matter what I or anybody says to you, cunt-boy, does it?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Because you are not a person you are a thing, isn’t that right?”

 

“Yes, sir, I’m thing for your entertainment.”

 

“Correct.  Truth has no meaning where you are concerned, sexy slut.  I can tell you anything I want, at any time.  All I want is your to be a filthy boy-whore, and to die lingeringly in the most terrible pain.  I’m going to make it last as long as possible, little slut.”

 

“Oh, oh, oh … “  he actually came, jets of sperm shot out of his boy-cock.  These whore-boys and girls were trained to be such wonderful physiological wrecks.  Their minds were a turmoil of obligations and desires – so fucking confused – I loved it, and I loved fucking up their minds as much as I could.

 

“You see, you like being an object.”

 

“Oh, sir, you are fantastic.  I want to die in agony for you, sir.”

 

“That’s good.  So I lied to you because I enjoyed it, cunt-boy.  And that’s all that matters, isn’t it, slut?  My enjoyment?  You don’t matter any more than that speck of shit on the floor.  You’re a turd yourself, aren’t you, boy?” 

 

“Of course, sir, I’m a loathsome fucking turd, sir.”  The sweet, vulnerable boy was crying uncontrollably, his boy-cock was still as hard as wood and leaking.  He was panting and licking my face.  “Do want you want to me, sir, let it last as long as you want, sir, I really want to be just for your pleasure, sir.  Hurt me as much as you can and for as long as you want, sir.  I want it.  I want terrible, terrible pain for you, sir.”

 

Now that I liked.

 

“For hours and hours and hours.”  His years of this fucking wonderfully twisted training had taken over, his utterly submissive nature had overcome his fear, or rather embraced the fear and turned inevitability into his reason for existing.  Marvellous training, don’t you agree, men?  This was the sort of thing that was making our society – almost for the first time in history - such a healthy and happy place.

 

“I’m a shitty, worthless piece of fuck-meat and I deserve total agony from a real man like you, sir.”  He meant it from the bottom of his little whore soul.  He was pulling on his own balls as if to tear them off his lithe, young body, and slapping his face with his other hand.  He truly meant every word he said.  This glorious pussy-boy was the archetype of the totally fucked-up submissive – I was awed.  “I’m glad you lied to me, sir.  It makes it more terrible for me, and that’s only what I deserve.”

 

“Fuck yeah!  Yes, you fucking do!  Fucking cunt-boy!  Let’s fucking start torturing you to death then.”   I dragged him by the hair into the booth and told sailor boy to get him strung up and ready.  Fuck-and-slut was left whimpering on the tiles. 

 

There was nothing happening in the arena. 

 

“A third screaming exhibit is on its way, sir, and another stud, as you ordered. Oh and the attendant will bring an injection for the cunt-boy.”

 

“Fine.”   Sailor boy – who was still eager to please and show off his masculinity to me - was instructed to brutally fuck the fuck-and-suck slut for me till it was unconscious if he could.  No spiked sheaths, no cigarettes in the eyes, just male lust as expressed through a hard, young cock.  I really wanted to see him pound the whore into oblivion.

 

“Wow, I’ll certainly do my best for you, mate.”  He pulled it out of the shower room and started on it.  A few face slaps to begin with, not enough to bruise it, hand up it’s fuck-hole for five minutes punch-fucking – they could repair ruined cunt-sewers - then cock up it’s shit-hole for a brutal ass-fucking.  Its cunt was gaping after the football fun.

 

Meanwhile I intended to be expressing my male superiority by destroying a young male who had done me no wrong, not provoked me in anyway, in fact had tried to please me, I would just express my own fucking deep desire to be violent against another defenceless human being.  Fuck yeah!  I loved this programme!  Our genetics conditioned this response in us.  Older gorillas would lay into younger ones and tear them limb from limb just to prove their maleness.  Evolution should be respected.  Thankfully we had a world government that recognised basic facts about human nature.

 

I whipped pussy-boy for starters as hard as I fucking could all over his slim, sweet young body.  He was screaming and screaming, and thanking me, and begging for more and harder!. Handsome sailor-boy had to get as far into the corner as he could with his whore to be out of the way of the swinging whip. But I was overwhelmed with energy and had to hurt this boy as much as I possibly could as quickly as I could.

 

After ten minutes or so, I needed a pause from this really hard whipping – it fucking takes it out of you, as I’m sure you know, men..  I took deep lungs-full breaths of the piped aroma - the appalling smell of fresh, pungent, wet farts that was now filling the air.  Fucking wonderful!  Fucking disgusting, fucking violent, fucking just the way I liked it.

 

Sailor boy had ass-fucked the big-titted fourteen-year-old cunt till it was waving about like a floppy doll on the end of his great cock. Not out of it yet, but hardly compos mentis. Meanwhile I got salt from the alcove and threw it over the boy’s bloody wounds. The reaction was nice.  He was looking at me while he screamed.  I pressed myself against his slim, tortured body - to rub the salt more thoroughly into his agonised wounds and pushed my tongue down his throat.  His reaction was extraordinary: his tongue and mouth behaved like … like what?  An alien sucker – it’s the only way I can describe it – the boy wanted me to climb inside him.  I felt I would lose my tongue down his throat.  It was unusual but gratifying.

 

At that moment the “room service” arrived.  I told sailor-boy to continue fucking his cunt’s brains out, didn’t want to interrupt his work, and spoke to the sports-clad, muscle-man attendant myself.

 

“I want the screaming exhibit trussed up painfully with a giant dildo up its cunt-hole.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said the hot, sports-clad, muscle-man attendant. 

 

“But let this new stud-boy start that, I want this kid injected before he fucking passes out again.”

 

“Sorry about that, sir.  I’ll report it, it shouldn’t have happened.”

 

“Well, he had vomited six or seven times, can’t be helped.”

 

“That’s very understanding of you, sir, nevertheless, as I said, it shouldn’t have happened and the management I’m sure will want to offer you a discount in compensation.”

 

“That’s nice.  Now I want him injected in the most painful way possible.”

 

“Naturally.  How about straight into his fucking cunt-boy balls?  That’s usually very effective, sir?”

 

“I’ll bow to your expertise.”

 

“The actually injection is a long, long moment of white hot agony, which is very, very enjoyable, for the viewer, but also it leaves behind a really delicious terrible throbbing pain in the whole groin - balls, cock, lower stomach and ass, which is as bad as - say a dentist continually touching a nerve in a tooth, only worse because it’s spread over a bigger area.”

 

“Ouch!”  that was sailor-boy joking while he continued his ass-fucking of the loathsome, huge titted, fuck-and-suck slut.  He grinned and waved to his colleague who was stuffing a cunt-destroying sized dildo up the new screaming exhibit.  The booth was quite noisy again.  Sports clad muscle-man had to speak up.

 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed by the injection in the balls, sir.  Also the drug itself not only keeps the boy from passing out, it heightens all his senses considerably – hence the pain is in effect doubled  - and he will remain totally aware and totally communicable even during the most extreme tortures.  It’s really very good in the balls, even if I do say so myself.  Would you like to perform the injection, sir.”

 

“Oh no, I have a bit of a horror of medical procedures.  I’ll watch you.”  The sports-clad, muscle-man attendant carefully held the cunt-boy’s hard cock out of the way with one hand – he didn’t want to damage that as he knew I would want to damage it myself later – fuck yeah!  I was going to fucking destroy it – and he gently held the boy’s nut sack in one hand.  He positioned the needle of the large syringe against one of his balls.  He looked at me for the go-ahead.  I spoke to the boy.

 

“Still want to be my pain-bitch, boy?”

 

“Oh fuck yes, do anything to me, sir, if it gives you pleasure.”

 

“This is going to give me great pleasure.  It is going to be the most pain you have ever experienced in your life, slut.  What do you say?”  The pussy-boy fuck-meat panted his - rather nice - reply.

 

“I just… oh…. mmm…. want to say thank you, sir, thank you for honouring this shitty piece of fuck-boy, slut-meat with so much pain….oh…. yes… please hurt me as much as you can, over and over and over, sir.”

 

I spoke to the sports-clad, muscle-man with the syringe, “Do give my congratulations to whoever trained this whore-boy, they did a damn good job.”

 

“Thank you, sir.  As matter of fact this cunt-boy is from my stable, I trained him myself.”

 

“Did you really?  Well, he’s done you proud!”

 

“I’m really flattered you think so, sir.  Do you want me to perform this extreme torture on these balls for you now, sir?”

 

“Go ahead.”  He slowly inserted the needle into one of the boy’s balls. Pussy-boy spoke – quickly.

 

“Thank you … sir … aaagh!”

 

An interesting procedure because a) it must have been a very sharp needle, and b) the sports-clad, muscle-man still had to use some force, balls are tough little nuts of rubbery gristle and it wasn’t easy. 

 

Using his considerable grip strength, the large, sharp needle went firmly into his first testicle - the boy turned green, sort of sagged and sucked in his breath with a squeaky sound like air escaping from a balloon. 

 

The muscleman continued pushing the needle till he had speared both young balls: he knew he had to hold on tightly to the scrotum sack with his other hand because the boy seemed to want to rise into the air – but the sports-clad muscle-man who had done this hundreds of times before was having none of this, he kept firm hold of the young boys nut-sack and pumped the drug into the young boy’s balls. The ear-splitting scream given by this piece of young, male fuck-meat must have been heard all over the Palaestra. 

 

Actually, I was inordinately proud of this scream and must confess I positioned myself so that if other clients got out their binoculars I could be clearly seen and identified as the client who was causing this impressive level of agony.

 

“Ok for you, sir?”  The muscle-man attendant, whom I now realised was a much higher status employee than I had given him credit for, asked me politely,  “Anything else you require?”

 

“Not at the moment, thank you, but I want to keep him in alive and in total agony for the next six hours, so I may have to call you back to take advantage of your expertise or ask you for some advice.”

 

“I’d be only too delighted, sir.  We aim to please.  Oh, just a thought, if you want to increase his pain now, sir, which is pretty terrible for him anyway, why don’t you concentrate on those nice, fresh, pretty young balls.  And the areas around them.  The pain – I know from my own researches, will be indescribable for him and because of the drug of course, he won’t be able to escape it.”

 

“Oh thank you, I’ll do that.”

 

“He will scream continually and - I imagine - he will feel he is in hell.  Should be most enjoyable for you, sir.”  He closed the door of the booth behind him.  I kicked the sweet young pussy-boy hard in his tortured balls.  Another very flattering scream.  I invited the new stud boy to keep kicking him, while I held his young face and spoke to him.

 

“I hope you are liking this, pussy-boy.  I am.  Ah, does it hurt?”  Not very original this level of sadistic sarcasm, but lust, I find, doesn’t sharpen the wit.

 

“You have to do it, sir………. Aaaah!  It’s what I’m for.”

 

“This is the climax of your short life, eh pretty boy?”

 

“Yesssssssss, sir!  Harder, harder, harder, more, more!” His barely broken young voice varied between a shriek and a grunt.  “Thank … you, thank you … sir!!

 

“My pleasure, slut!  Do it again, stud-boy, kick him in those fucking boy-balls, harder, much fucking harder!”  Fuck yes, this is what I came for.  It was a joy to see the second stud-boy, who was dressed as a Traffic Cop, complete with shiny boots, sunglasses and a helmet, kicking his shiny boot so fucking hard up this pussy-boy's crotch. After that we let pussy-boy hang in agony for a short time.

 

Now to give some attention to the third screaming exhibit.

 

There was a knock on the booth door.

 

“Come in.” 

 

It was the sports-clad, muscle-man again,  “I’ve had a word at the front desk about this pathetic pussy-boy passing out on you after only vomiting a few times: they have agreed that it was entirely below our usual standards, so they would like to offer you a fourth screaming exhibit with our compliments.  We wondered if you would like to use that fuck-and-suck slut you are using already, sir.  We’ve already decided that that whore would be downgraded next session so we are simply moving it forward.  Of course if you would like to leave it as a credit, I’ll have them write a receipt for you to use next time?”

 

“No, that’s great, I really want to hurt that stupid fucking bitch right now.  Ok boys we’ve got work to do, one pussy-boy and two fucking cunts to torture to death, and we’ve got six hours to fill.”

 

“Good that’s settled,” said the sports-clad muscle-man, “have fun, sir.”  He closed the door again.

 

I wanted Sailor-boy to continue ass fucking the big titted young, now down-graded fuck-and-suck cunt, while I began some pleasant work on the trussed and dildo-filled screaming exhibit.

 

“Hey stud-boy,” the new stud was dark haired like sailor-boy, and if anything he was younger, more glossy and butch than sailor-boy, “stud, I want you to slice open pussy-boys nut sack, leaving the balls exposed, and then stick as many pins in the nuts as they will take.”

 

“Yes, sir, right away, sir.”

 

“Be careful of the blood on that hot uniform, boy.”

 

“I will sir, I won’t get drop on it.  I assume you don’t want me to take it off, yet?”

 

“That’s right, whore-boy.”  Looking at police-stud, so butch, so young and handsome and knowing that if I wanted to, as with all of them, I could shit in his mouth and he would smile charmingly and say “thank you, sir,”  was so fucking enjoyable.   I kicked number three screaming exhibit in the tits as hard as I could, I had put my boots back on  – it was hog-tied – professionally of course – with a massive dildo jammed up its fuck-hole. The cunt was moaning and writhing on the floor of the booth.

 

Men, you may be wondering why I’m not reporting any dialogue with these cunts?  After all I have described in some detail my conversations with pussy-boy – ball sack now expertly cut away and both balls hanging gruesomely by visible gristle, hot police-uniform stud boy still in his sunglasses and helmet carefully inserting pin after pin into the screaming piece of fuck-meat – fucking hot! – the fact that he had donned a capacious plastic see-through apron, available from the well-stocked alcove, did not detract from the sexiness of the torture scene one jot – but to continue the question, why I have I not written about my talks with the fucking cunts?  I’ll tell you why, men, and I fucking hope you agree with me – I WOULDN’T WASTE MY BREATH ON A FUCKING CUNT!  I just kick ‘em, slap ‘em, cause ‘em pain, and only f they really turn me on, I fuck ‘em.  I’d be disappointed if you disagreed with this philosophy, men.

 

I dragged cunt number three (just brought in, trussed up with a huge dildo up it) up by the hair and put its face-hole on my cock and pushed it up and down and used it to jerk off.  The show in the arena was about to begin again.  Sailor-boy was fucking the now doomed fuck-and-slut cunt with wild enthusiasm, perhaps he really could fuck this huge-titted fourteen year old to death – I would like that, but it was unlikely.

 

I sniffed the air appreciatively: the famous aroma was now pure shit, fresh human shit, absolutely stinking, fucking wonderful!  The first item after the interval was the notorious and well-known “Lake of Shit”.  They covered a large portion of the arena in the stuff, I ‘d seen it before many times but it was always great.

 

It began small – about fifty of the stud whore-boys and muscle-men in the arena just shitting any where – but angling their butts to make sure we could see it in all its splendour.  For physiological reasons they were, obviously, different studs from those who had shitted on the porn-whores in the first half of the show.  They were wearing hot, sexy military uniforms of various kinds, modern and old-fashioned, so they had to undo belts etc, and lower their pants – it made it all the more disgusting somehow. 

 

Then the naked, big-titted fucking young cunts ran in, but these were the same ones who had performed in the shit and vomit scene earlier.  (Remember, men, porn whores pissed on, shitted on, made to vomit?)   Firstly they licked the men’s shit-holes clean, meanwhile, and this I loved, more pure shit began bubbling up from the ground. (The palaestra must have had some direct piped connection with the city sewers.) The men had fun pretending to be shocked at getting their boots and shoes shitty and forcing the cunts to eat the shit off their boots.  Then suddenly the guys all ran out of the arena leaving the huge titted cunts to slide about in the shit, rubbing it in their tits, mouths and hair.

 

The sports-clad muscle-man put his head round the door of the booth again.

 

“I’m sorry to bother you again, sir, but we seem to be having one of those nights.  I forgot to bring the injection for the complimentary screaming exhibit – we don’t want that one passing out on you as well.”  He came into the booth, he had the large syringe in one hand and something else in his other hand.  He was dragging by the hair a young, utterly flawless blond Adonis – couldn’t have been more than fourteen – I thought I recognised him from the angel and horse fucking item.

 

“I thought I’d throw this in for you as well, considering how decent you’ve been – not complaining and so on.  He somehow survived the horse-fucking – wasn’t intended to – so do what you want with it, if you want it that is?  Otherwise, we’d more than likely fuck it to death, or inject it with acid in the staff canteen during a coffee break.”

 

So, here was another golden youth for me to torture – I really was being spoiled tonight.  This one also had a hugely gaping boy-hole - because of the horse fucking it was, as you would expect, red-raw, which was a really nice contrast with his youth, pale skin and blond hair.  This one, unlike pussy-boy was muscular and really quite tasty, although thoroughly disorientated to find itself still alive, I imagine. 

 

“Show me the fuck-hole, boy.”   He was immediately on his back thrusting this vast red cavern at me.  “Stay like that till I decide what to do with you.”  Considering this boy had been fucked by a horse barely a couple of hours previously he looked pretty good on it.  I could tell from his eyes he was totally drugged – the conscious raising stuff.  He was wild and on fire inside his head, but utterly submissive, he lay still panting on the floor, thrusting his huge, gaping, red hole at the air.  The booth was quite crowded but with care we would manage.  The hot, sports-clad muscle-man was talking about the downgraded fuck-and-slut cunt.

 

“Those huge, fucking tits are the most painful site for the injection, sir.  Some say pump it right into a whore’s clit, but injecting directly into each nipple produces the best reaction in my opinion. 

 

“Ok,” I said, “let sailor-boy do it.  He’s fucking the cunt, he might as well do that as well.”

 

Leaving as quickly as he could - I think he was a bit embarrassed by forgetting the injection - the sports-clad muscle-man first carefully handed the syringe to the sailor-boy stud, who thanked him with suitable politeness.

 

Sailor boy pulled the cunt up towards him, he was ass-fucking the slut from behind, and leaning over he stabbed the syringe with remarkable dexterity into the nipple on one tit.  He pumped half the drug in, pulled it out, shifted the cunt over and stabbed it into the other nipple and administered the rest of the drug.  The big-titted, fucking revolting cunt itself appeared to go insane, I’m glad to say, eyes staring out of its head. It arched its back to breaking point and thrust out the massive tits as if trying to throw them off its body.  It was screaming most satisfactorily.

 

I spoke close to the handsome traffic-cop’s ear – I was obliged to, the booth was full of screaming, only two of them doing it - pussy-boy and fuck-and-suck, but what a fucking noise, I might gag them in minute.

 

“Can’t get any more pins in the balls, sir.  Do you want me to start on the cock, pins through the glans will be rather nice, sir?”

 

“I’ve better than that.  Get the tiny funnel, the one with the long, thin tube, and the acid, now be careful, I don’t want you burning yourself.  And get that down his fucking cock.  And then, when his agony is at it height, force him to kiss you, make love to him, tell him you want him for your boyfriend, confuse him by licking him and spitting all over his pussy-boy face and neck, suck the snot from his nose and spit it in his mouth.

 

“I like that in particular, sir.”

 

“Then alternate punching him hard, very hard, in the stomach, with kissing him.  Remember your boss said we should concentrate on the groin and stomach for the first hour.”

 

“That’s really nice, sir.  Really evil, I’ll enjoy that, sir.  Oh, sir, he’s not our boss, he’s a senior trainer of pussy-boy meat but he doesn’t have responsibility for us whore-boys.” 

 

“Got you.”

 

“I’ll get that little funnel and acid, sir.”  He set about it.  In the arena the next phase of the item was well underway – and it was really, really my favourite of the whole Palaestra programme.  It wasn’t the climax of the show, that came later, but I just loved this one.  The fifty or so, whore-studs and musclemen ran back into the “shit-lake” squelching through the stinking mess, they were shouting, cheering and laughing, and kicking and standing on the shit covered big-titted teenage whores as they came.  They had removed their military uniforms and were now naked.  They were all carrying and swinging iron or metal bars of some kind, some were crowbars, others were bit of car-engines, one or two were sledge-hammers, bits of scaffolding  – just a varied collection of brutal weapons.  And of course, you’ve guessed it, men, they proceeded to batter the loathsome, shit-covered, fucking cunts to death – fucking privileged cunts – I’m sure you agree, men - to be beaten to death in shit by such fucking hot men - no preliminary shit-rapes or shitty cock-sucking just fucking shit-covered carnage.

 

What was so enjoyable about this fun-mass murder was precisely that – the guys doing had so much fun.  You could hear them shouting –

 

“Watch this, mate, I’m going to smash this fucking cunt’s head in!”  And with a great roar this young stud would bring his sledgehammer down on the lucky cunt’s skull, smashing it to merge with the shit.

 

“Fucking nice one, mate!”  Another would impale a shit-covered cunt on his crow-bar, raising the revolting, fucking whore right up above his head and waving the lucky slut from side to side like a shit-flag, then smash it down into the shit and using every ounce of his strength, with the cunt on the ground, fuck-hole up, he would force the crow-bar down through the guts of the cunt until it popped satisfyingly out of its neck. Fuck yeah!

 

The studs and muscle-men were all cheering each other on, there was constant banter, joking and congratulations passing between the fucking hot, now shit-splattered guys.  And of course the clients joined in fun, shouting out and cheering.  It was the tradition in this act, if the client felt like, to throw in your own screaming exhibit into the arena – if it was still breathing, it was considered tacky to throw a corpse – the studs would finish it off for you. 

 

And these studs always made a point of putting on an extra good show with a thrown-in cunt.  If you were throwing from the top tier of booths you needed the help of a friend, even though the young whores were light because you had to make sure it didn’t clip one of the other booths on the way down – no one wanted an uninvited bit of whore to land in their booth.

 

Don’t think, men, that this was just a gory bit of brutality, the good humour of the stud-boys and muscle-men far outweighed the screams of the cunts and the dismembering of their revolting whore bodies.  It was simply so much fun for the boys – that’s what I loved - and they shared their enjoyment with the thousands of clients.  This act always made my cock fuck-happy and it always inspired me.  I was jumping up and down and stamping on the new trussed up screaming exhibit.  The two whore-boy studs in my booth were laughing and encouraging me while they continued with their own work.

 

I decided I wanted to throw the cunt I was stamping on into the “shit-lake” for the arena boys to destroy.  So I picked it up – I didn’t want or need to ask my whore-boys for help, we were on the ground-floor level remember,  I didn’t want to look like a pussy – and I lifted it above my head and, yelling to catch the attention of the nearest stud-boys, I hurled it out of the booth.

 

Two of the naked, shit-covered whore-boys caught it, and yelled their thanks.

 

“Thanks for the throw-in, mate!”

 

Abandoning, temporarily, their fucking great iron bars, these two studs began to put on a show using my throw-in and another that had landed from a higher booth.  Holding each huge-titted, fucking teenage cunt by the ankles – the stud-boys were laughing, smiling and grunting - firstly they slid the fucking cunts around on the ground, back and forth, and got them nicely covered in shit, and letting go of an ankle they paused to cram handfuls of the stuff in there fucking face-holes, trying to choke them with turds.. Then picking up the other ankle again they swung their respective whore like a baseball bat - aiming to smash the skulls into each other. Fuck yeah!  Fucking good!  I hope I’ve described that sufficiently accurately, men – I wouldn’t want you not to appreciate such a good move.  Swinging from opposite directions they aimed to hit the other cunt’s fucking skull with the skull of the cunt they were swinging.   Smashing the cunts fucking heads for all they were worth, the two studs were smiling and looking at the clients – one of whom was me, as I said - who had thrown in these worthless fucking young bitches.

 

After several minutes of this, they dropped one of the cunts and let it writhe in the shit – the consciousness-raising drug again doing its work - and one stud held the remaining screaming exhibit up by its long shitty hair while the other hot whore-boy retrieved his iron bar from under the shit, and again, swinging like a base-ball player, he systematically broke every bone in its body. 

 

He laid into the whore until it skeleton must have been in fucking pieces!  Fuck yeah!  Then it was dropped it in the shit and raising the bar high above his head and bending his knees with every hit, he rained down another dozen massive blows on its shattered, shit-covered body.  He looked so hot doing this, massive hard cock swinging up and down.  As for the whore – it was only what the cunt deserved. 

 

Why, what had it done?  What a fucking question!  It deserved it because it was a FUCKING CUNT!  Right, men?   It deserved it for existing.

 

They did the same thing but even more viciously to the second cunt.  Then the boys, breathing hard, took a well-deserved bow.  All over the arena – which was now the well-named shit-lake – the boys and muscle-men were putting on similar shows.  You can see why it was my favourite, men.

 

Men, when you have read the whole description of the show, I’d be really keen to know your favourite item – please contact me if you want at EricBoss1a@hotmail.co.uk.  I always reply.

 

The next three or four items in the arena while producing the most glorious and exquisite pain for the hundreds of big-titted cunts that were being used were not to my particular taste.  Of course the Palaestras tried to cover a wide variety of acts and appeal to all sorts of clients – each one had its specialities – and so I would never criticise. Below, I’ll give you a brief run-down so you can see what I mean and decide for yourself – of course, you may have completely different tastes to mine, and I don’t want to prejudice you..

 

But discerning readers, they just involved too much technical work for me.  I really liked to see men torturing cunts hands-on, with primitive brutality – ok, pliers, acid, burning paste, blow-lamps is absolutely fine but go further than that into prolonged enemas, electricity, microwaving, medieval racks, thumb-screws, fucking by bulls which requires so much set-up – I know I may be old fashioned and perhaps lack some sophistication but they don’t keep my big, fat, thick cock happy.

 

So we had the moving platforms again gliding past the booths, giving us close-ups of various young big-titted whores being fried alive by experts in electrocution.  Dull.

 

We had young massive titted cunts with gallons of water pumped up the cunts – again dull.  They had feedback forms – I made a mental note that if they had then plugged the cunts at the point they were full to bursting, and then had the muscle-men jumping up and down on them till they actually did burst – now that I would have liked.  I’d put that in the suggestion box.

 

Big-titted cunts rotating in glass-microwave ovens – they were boiled alive from the inside, until they exploded, messily - obviously agony on a superhuman scale but frankly not entertaining enough. For me, anyway.

 

Bull-fucking, donkey-fucking, gorilla-fucking.  I can hear you saying, “wow, that must have been hot.  Sexy, big-titted, teenagers screaming on the end of gorilla cock!” 

 

In theory yes, but in practice, for example, you can’t see the fucking cunt under the bull, and even if you did, who wants to look at a fucking bull?  The bull takes up far more attention.  Go to a fucking farm, I say.

 

But I’m not complaining, honestly I’m not, they have to cater to all tastes, I’m just very particular, I suppose..  I do like to see young big titted cunts humiliated and tortured by being fucked by animals, of course I do, I’m not perverted, but something simple like, for example just eating the shit directly from a huge Great Dane's shit-hole is somehow much more exquisitely revolting.  Am I communicating, men?  Do you see what I’m trying to say?  

 

The fucking gorilla just wanted to eat the cunt and tear its limbs off, which it did usually, as much as fuck it.  Boring.  A hot, young, ape-like muscle-man tearing the tits off and eating them – now that I would like.

 

So the next few hours passed.  I had the traffic-cop stud boy take his uniform off, but put back on his boots, helmet and sunglasses, and he and sailor-boy fucked the fuck-and-suck slut till it was a gibbering wreck.  I had the new Adonis boy, join me in slowly dismembering pussy-boy.

 

A nice coincidence here.  It turned out that not only did huge, gaping-shit-hole Adonis boy know the screaming pussy-boy really well, they were trained together, but also he was a personal friend of his.  Isn’t that great?  A life-long friend and companion?  I was thrilled at this extra opportunity for me to be really nasty.  And believe me, men, I took full advantage of the opportunity.

 

Despite his training, and his full knowledge and experience of his and his companion’s role in life, Adonis boy screamed in horror, and couldn’t stop crying when he realised who it was who was strung up with his balls exposed and acid eating his cock from the inside.  It was really sweet for me to be forcing him to eat his friend’s balls – live from the bone, as it were.  I let him remove all the pins, inserted by traffic-cop stud, first.

 

At least I had found one way to economise in my vastly expensive evening – I didn’t need to call in an expert to advise me on how to prolong pussy-boy’s agonies because huge, gaping-shit-hole Adonis boy’s reaction gave me the theme I needed .

 

Of course, huge, gaping-shit-hole Adonis boy needed a little motivation;  I did this by tiny drops of acid in his red-raw shit-hole – just administered with an eye-dropper and he almost eagerly began to gnaw down to the bone on his friend’s shins, and tear the flesh off with this teeth.  Any slacking and I only had to show him the acid bottle. Then I let him use his hands on his thighs, he’d get it going with his teeth and then dig in with his nails and grab hold of a chunk of muscle and pull.  And from time to time of course, I bet you’ve guessed it, men?  - I would add a little drop of acid to pussy-boy’s exposed muscle and nerves, drip, drip.

 

I had to resort to the whip when huge, gaping shit-hole Adonis boy got to pussy-boy’s stomach.  A small, barbed whip on his hot, boy ass and perfect back - he soon dug his teeth in with enthusiasm.  All the while pussy-boy was perfectly conscious and in the most terrible physical and emotional pain – after all it was his best friend eating him alive.  Really nice.

 

Before I finished I really wanted to shit in the mouth of the two studs – I’d been promising myself this all night and thought I deserved it.  So while comfortably watching the pussy-boy being gnawed by his best friend I gave my instructions. 

 

“Of course, sir, we’d be delighted.”

 

“Honoured.  Do you want us to eat it, or just smear it on our hot faces and bodies, and then kiss each other?” said the hot cop stud in his boots, sunglasses and helmet.

 

“Just fucking eat it.”  I said, knowing that traffic-cop, whore-stud was showing off, the smooth, arrogant cunt!

 

They lay on the blood-smeared floor, heads together, the cunt was twitching in the corner.  I squatted over their handsome faces and opened my bowels and let go. It was  a really, good, smelly, watery shit – straight in their mouths!  And it fucking stank!  I was really proud of it. 

 

I stood up and dragged what was left of the fuck-and-suck slut and stuffed its head in my arse for it to clean me.  It did its best but was too out of it.  So I threw it away and got the huge, gaping shit-hole Adonis boy to clean my hole instead, which he did thoroughly, no doubt glad of a break from chewing the flesh of his life-long friend.

 

I watched the faces of the shit-covered stud boys, their professionalism was utterly astonishing. (But it was to fail them spectacularly in an hour of so.) They licked the shit from round their mouths, wiped it with their fingers. They sucked, their shitty fingers and looked longingly at me and each other.

 

“Oh go on, then, I know you want to.”  The fell on each other like animals, tongues out lapping the remains of my shit on each other’s faces and sucking, hungry tongues.  It was utterly disgusting, so fucking gay – confusing but fucking hot. They looked at me. And there was a momentary pause.

 

They fell on me with shitting tongues and we shared a hot threeway. I felt the unspoken male competitiveness that existed between the three of us reach an apotheosis – we all recognised it and gave each other our total respect.

 

It became a four-way, because I pulled the huge, gaping shit-hole Adonis boy into the melee, and then a five-way because the twitching remains of the still conscious fuck-and-suck cunt was under us.  All the while pussy-boy was suffering inhuman agony on the wall, unable to escape a moment’s pain because of the drug. 

 

There was one thing more I wanted * I managed to tell sailor-boy, who pulled the appropriate lever.  The floor of the booth slowly became covered – our own shit-lake.  I told you this Palaestra was remarkable.  The level of filth and debauchery was immensely satisfying, I came several times in this last hour.

 

(*Actually there were several more things I wanted but just at this moment my cock only demanding this one thing.)

 

“Tear his throat out, Adonis boy!  Eat your friend’s fucking throat!”  He was so fucking turned on he didn’t need motivating, he hauled his shit-covered muscular young body up the bloody bones and wrecked muscles-and-tissues of his friend, kissed him passionately and then, without a second thought, ripped out his throat with his perfect white teeth.  Pussy-boy went into his last traumatic spasm and bled to death, while Adonis boy slid back down his body, bits of his throat still in his mouth.  I think I got some of the flesh in my mouth but who could tell. 

 

As I said, I came so many time in this last, hour long shit feast, I lost count.  And we still had Adonis and fuck-and-suck slut to destroy in anyway I wanted.

 

My usual insistent and demanding, internal cry of, “Filth, I want more filth, give me more fucking filth!”  was totally stilled.  I had as much filth as any sane man could want.  I wasn’t greedy.

 

I wasn’t paying much attention to the last, climatic act in the arena, but I knew what it was having seen it several times before.

 

Over and above the smell of the shit in our booth – the actual “lake of shit” in arena had, of course, been drained and well-washed away by now – but the beautifully, strong, piped aroma was still there, pungent as at the first.  It had continued to be totally entrancing, a far better narcotic than anything chemical I could inject or ingest.  I recognised now the smell of gym locker rooms, but intensified to that eye-watering level.  What memories that sweaty, pungent, old sock, jock-strap, musty stink conjured up, while we literally wallowing in six inches of shit. 

 

We were into the last hour now.  The final act in the arena was in its opening stages.  It was based on an oriental theme – extraordinary Chinese or Japanese music (don’t know which, forgive my ignorance) majestic gongs and trumpets – and procession after procession of hundreds of magnificently clad magnificent men and young men in flowing, open robes, cocks hard and throbbing.  Then seemingly thousands of young cunts arriving for their use – up through the trap-doors, down from the flies, herded in from the runways – some trailing beautiful brocaded gowns and wearing elaborate headdresses, others just naked with hideously deformed cunt-holes (as described previously – my personal favourite being the huge, puss-oozin syphilitic sores) and massive tits – the variety was stunning. 

 

We dragged ourselves up out of the shit on the floor of the booth to watch this extraordinary theatrical event –something like the closing ceremony of the Olympics must have been the model for the directors.  

 

The amazing music continued.  The men proceeded to fuck and torture the cunts to death in every possible way – all the time using the utmost style – kung-fu moves, fast, martial arts routines ending with fifty spears up one big-titted fourteen-year-old cunt for example.  It was breathtaking – as I said I had seen it before – it had been the closing act at every show for over a year now – something like this had to be milked for all it was worth – and none of us clients ever got tired of seeing it.  Oh there goes the exploding young whore – the one with fire-crackers up the cunt. 

 

It’s a pity that they didn’t have throw-ins in the last act because at this point I would have loved to see what they would do with huge, gaping-shit-hole Adonis boy, but you can imagine that with something so choreographed and planned an extra pussy-boy-whore landing from a booth would not be welcomed.  I would have to think of something to finish him off myself.

 

Sailor-boy and traffic-cop boy, both still covered in shit were standing with their arms around each other, the fuck-and-suck slut was still grovelling and wimpering in the shit on the floor, half-suffocating in the stuff.. Huge, gaping-shit-hole, muscled Adonis boy was standing with his arms around my neck, licking shit off my face. 

 

I didn’t like what the two stud-whore-boys were doing, they had momentarily forgotten their duties – they were relaxing and enjoying each other, without my permission.  On my time!  I was paying for these cunt-boys!  And paying a fucking lot!

 

They were gently stroking each other’s cocks and had forgotten I existed.  I was blindingly angry and so fucking disappointed in them, they had been brilliant up until now – I know they had been working a twelve hour shift but fuck!  This was indeed something to complain about.  I took huge, gaping-shit-hole Adonis boy with me to the back of the booth – he was licking shit off me up and down my whole body for all he was worth – and phoned reception – I asked them to send me one of the “special” fuck-and-suck sluts immediately.

 

The door opened within a minute and in it came – it must have been eighty – unutterably withered and hideous. It could barely walk and was actually using a zimmer frame. I remembered the old crone I had passed on the way to the Palaestra twelve long hours ago, and how I had felt so horny I could have thrown it to the ground and raped it – well let’s see these two fucking hot, professional studs keep it hard while they fucked this unbelievably ugly old cunt – a human toilet roll.

 

I told the two whore boys they had to fuck it till it was a gibbering wreck, and they had to love it!  I wanted to see them “making love” to this fucking dried up ancient cunt.  I wanted plenty of kissing, stroking and appreciative noises.  The look on their faces was indescribable; they had never been humiliated like this by a client before.  They couldn’t believe they were been reduced to the status of performing freaks which what these hideous cunts were usually paired with..

 

“Your own fucking fault, boys.  I’m the male you should have been thinking about ten minutes ago, not each other, no matter how fucking hot you are.”   The client wins – well this client fucking wins, I know that some men are ultimately intimidated by the power of these whore-boy’s arrogance and their physical perfection but not me, fucking hell no!  Bang goes their tips, and let them enjoy fucking this hideous, dried up old bag.

 

They got on with it.  I was very amused and so was huge, gaping-shit-hole Adonis boy who was picking up handfuls of shit, massaging my big, fat cock with it, and then sucking the shit off it.  An utterly revolting sight, I liked it.

 

I decided to choke him to death – with shit.  I told him to open his mouth, and I started shovelling it in, he couldn’t swallow fast enough.  He was struggling – a lot.  He was a strong kid but I was stronger, and I hadn’t been fucked by a horse earlier in evening.  He started choking, and heaving, I just forced my hand and forearm down his young throat, he died with my arm right down his oesophagus, my hand in his stomach. Such a sexy teenage boy.  I thought that was fun.  Then I did the same to the fuck-and-suck slut.  This cunt was so slight and so wrecked I was able to go at it from both ends.  My right arm went up its cunt into its guts and my left arm went down its throat into its guts – I punched them together inside it.  That was fun, I liked that too.

 

I asked the two hot stud-boys how they were enjoying fucking the hideous old bag.

They didn’t know what to say, they were at a loss for words.  It made me laugh.  Then sailor boy, who was the most intelligent, (traffic-cop was the hottest, not dim but not as quick on the uptake as sailor-boy) said that they were hating it.

 

“But you are quite right, sir, we neglected our duty to your cock, and you have chosen a suitable humiliation for us.”

 

“I think your old whore is enjoying the experience.”  It was cackling and shuddering through its umpteenth orgasm.  “Ok, throw it out the door.”   The whore-boys were so relieved, they pushed the old cunt out of the booth – the look on its face was priceless, really disappointed,  Ha!  This shit-smeared ancient whore with withered tits and a freshly fucked cunt and shit-hole was left to stagger - with its zimmer-frame - along the corridors of the Paleastra back to wherever its fucking den was. 

 

“I can’t apologise enough, sir. It was a gross dereliction of my duty.”  This was traffic-cop.  I wondered if he had learnt that phrase in his training and whether he had had to use it often, or ever before.

 

“Let’s not say any more about it.”

 

The arena act was finishing in its usual climax of hundreds of live cunts being thrown into a ritual bonfire in the middle of the arena.  It was beautiful.  Then came the long curtain calls, and the appearance of the directors and designers and all that.  Most clients were usually very patient and generous during this bit and applauded and cheered.  Of course the performers knew that many of us would be finishing off screaming exhibits etc, in our own booths, and these clients couldn’t care less about applauding this amazing show. 

 

Not me.  I was shouting and cheering, and so were the two whore-boys – they were calling the names of their friends, relatives – sailor boy’s twin brother was out there – and being supportive of each other as performers so often are.

 

There was a lull, it was all over and we would go home, sated.  Obviously I had to shower.  “Ok boys, I’ll tell you what.”

 

“Yes, sir, any last service we can perform for you?”

 

“If you can get me hard again before I shower, I’ll restore the big tips I was planning to give you before you disappointed me.”

 

Now this was a challenge;  basically I’d been aroused for twelve hours –without viagra or any medicinal help, and so had they – they probably used viagra or something..  But if you think about it, the sexual menu had been so varied and the timing so perfect it actually wasn’t that superhuman.  Could these boys get my cock hard for before I showered?  I stood ankle deep in shit and human tissue.  The boys looked at each other, then had a whispered conversation.  Lots of shaking of heads, and obviously several suggestions were discarded.  Then they appeared to come to some agreement.

 

They started to fuck the dead bodies.  Traffic cop had long discarded his helmet, boots and sunglasses – safely out the shit somewhere – and they began by shovelling up handfuls of shit and plastering it over the remains of half-eaten pussy-boy hanging on the wall of the booth.  They rubbed their hot muscle-boy bodies against his now shitty skeleton with the flesh hanging off and kissed him and each other and both got huge erections.  They put the remains of his destroyed cock in their mouths along with handfuls of shit, detaching it from the wall, they slurped and licked and pounded his half-eaten corpse – yes, they double fucked the wrecked, flesh-eaten dead-body.

 

Then they dragged the fuck-and-slut cunt’s wrecked body from under the shit and held it between their fucking hot, shit-covered muscle-boy bodies.  They kissed it, mauled its wrecked huge tits and sandwich fucked it, one in the remains of its fuck-hole, the other in the remains of its shit-hole. 

 

Then they fell on huge, gaping-shit-hole Adonis boy’s body and rolled in the shit with it on the floor of the booth, at one point getting all four arms up its shit-hole and still managing to lick each other’s shit-covered faces.  Then they smashed his body repeatedly into the floor, sending shit flying all over the booth.  When they were convinced they had smashed its skull and most of its bones they fell on each other in a frenzy of extraordinary lust.

 

The paused to look at me.  My huge, fat, long cock was rock hard again. 

 

“Ok, boys, you’ve earned your tip.”  It was quite the most appalling, revolting, disgusting act I had ever witnessed – and I’ve seen some, men.  I fucking loved it.

We showered together and the two whore-boys sucked me to another climax – a totally dry cum – but I shuddered in orgasm for what seemed like forever.  And as I came, my cock pulsing endlessly, traffic-cop, such a fucking sexy young stud, had his hand virtually down my throat, so I vomited, into both their hot faces, they licked and sucked the filthy, smelly mess into their sexy mouths, swapping it on their tongues between their hot, boy face-holes, and they swallowed it all down – it was beautiful.

 

Washed and dressed, at reception (a massive area, with hundreds of desks) I wrote the cheque for the bill, and wrote the cheque for the tip, which the now fully-uniformed and immaculate whore-boys (sailor-boy and traffic-cop) accepted with charming politeness.  They hoped they would see me again, I said of course.  I was lying, I would want to use different whores next week.

 

I walked home, as did thousands of others.  It was a spring morning and the air smelt of roses.

 

 

The End.

 

 

(Dear readers, please accept my fervent hope that you enjoyed my little effort and you found it sufficiently filthy and gratuitously violent.  Next I am going to try a more intimate, “character” based story, possibly from a cunt’s point of view; a cunt that is assiduously searching for the ultimate pain experience and ultimately its own hideously painful destruction - it knows that this is its well-deserved fate and is trying to find the level of torture that matches its desires.  Does that sound like fun? E.B.))