STORY OF INDIO—CHAPTER FIVE

So Sipple began wearing the heavy Crusher all the time for a while. He was allowed to urinate into the toilet in the morning, and then he'd turn to Indio. Indio would give Sip a long, probing tongue kiss, massaging his nipples, and then he'd play with Sip's cock with his skillful fingers until Sip was gasping and begging to cum...Indio then would jam Sip into the Crusher.

 

After he'd turned the Crusher completely so it squished Sip;s hard cock and balls, Sip would fall to his knees, crying. "Oh Master! I love you Master, but it's almost too much!" This would go on for a bit, which was why Indio always started Sip's procedure early enough so he could get to school on time. Indio did try to be comforting.

 

"Oh I envy you, Sipple" Indio said once. "I wish they'd had a Crusher when I was Eugene's slaveboy. The best he ever did for me was tease my urethra so my hole was big enough to put a small lit firecracker in it. I do envy you, boy." 

 

The Crusher was good for preventing all sorts of slave "mischief". With it on over his cock and balls, Sip couldn't pee, get an erection, or fuck anyone else. Indio considered the Crusher his best purchase, though he'd charged it to Sip's student account as "library fines."

 

Sip then had to sit through classes all day and try not to let the Crusher be seen, and he tried to find looser and looser pants. Twice Sip ripped his expensive pants in class when the heavy Crusher bounced too hard, and he had to run home before anyone saw the stainless steel cylinder peeking through the rips in his Chinos.

 

Finally, Indio gave Sip an old pair of heavy janitor's coveralls. For some peculiar reason he'd taken them after the Boysville maintenance man, Augustus, had died. They were too big for the five foot seven Indio, but Sip was about Augustus's size, so they fitted nicely.

 

They were big grey things, these coveralls, that covered Sip'e entire body, he had to step into it int he morning and pull it over his shoulders. But it did hold the Crusher in place.

 

Sip had always been something of a fashion plate, representing the more conservative students as the rest of the kids were busy growing their hair and protesting the Vietnam war.

The coveralls were absolutely hideous, and Sip didn't like wearing them. What was worse, the name "Gus" was stitched on the breast.

 

Sip's old friends from prep school began calling him "Gus" and what could Sip do? He had to take it smiling, as he was "choosing" to wear these horrible things. And the counterculture kids liked it, and Sip learned true humility, if not humiliation, by bouncing around the Georgetown campus in overalls.

 

Sip began conversing with the hippie kids, and realized what a hypocrite he was to have a father on the draft board who'd given all his sons and cousins exemptions while sending blue-collar kids into the war.

 

One day, Daisy, a cute little hippie girl was so thrilled by Sip that she gave him a big, wet, deep kiss, and invited him over to his dorm room. Sip learned the benefits of fidelity, while making out with Daisy on her bed...his erection kept trying to grow in the vicious Crusher and it was so painful that he finally burst into tears and ran out of Daisy's dorm.

 

After this, even the hippies seemed to give Sip a bit of a berth. But Sip was learning discipline still,and Master Indio was quite proud of him, which was all that mattered.

 

Sip was able to calculate now just how much he could drink all day so he wouldn't feel as if his kidneys were going to explode. Sip often walked around campus during the day, just wetting his mouth at drinking fountains to keep off thirst.

 

 Sometimes Sip would wet a washcloth and suck on it, promoting his friends to say, wittily "Take a sip, Sip."

In time, Indio felt it was time to go a little further in Sipple's training, and wanted to start being creative. "What the hell are you doing, Indio?" Sip asked one morning as Indio bent over his genitals with a cotton swab."I am swabbing your urethra with a bit of  Ben-Gay." replied Indio.

As Sip felt the sensation on his piss hole, he began howling in pain. Indio slapped Sip, hard, and he shut up. "Enough, Sip. I am trying to make you the best slave you can be, and you thwart me at every turn." Indio said in a grieved tone. "Now be silent. I am rubbing a little tabasco sauce on your balls. I think you need more sensation in the Crusher. You seem so used to just being crushed."

 

Sip's day at school was unbearable,as he kept grabbing his inflamed crotch, then remembering that the Crusher prevented his hands from doing any real comforting to his inflamed, imprisoned cock and balls. Could it get any worse?

 

The next day was Saturday, and Indio got Sip up early, and bound him to a kitchen chair. Sip watched Indio, as his Master put on a pair of latex gloves. "We are fortunate to live next door to a couple that grows habaneros hot peppers." Indio said, as he cut the pepper open. "They're rather stingy, so that's why I'm wearing these gloves that I borrowed from the Georgetown Medical School."

Sip writhed in his bonds and watched Indio's hands in the latex gloves as Indio ran his fingers inside the hot pepper until he'd gotten the gunk out, and was rubbing it between his  fingers. "What's with the corncob?" asked Sip nervously.

 

"Creativity, my Sipple. Lift up your butt, thank you." Sip screeched as the stinging corncob was shoved into his rectum. There was plenty of room there, as Indio had loosened Sip's rectum with dildoes, cucumbers, and once a rolling pin. After Indio had gotten the corn cob up Sip's ass, he also shoved in a butt-plug, to ensure that the cob wouldn't fall out.

 

Sip felt as if his asshole was on fire, or perhaps in a nuclear explosion. Yes, it was Hiroshima in his anus, all over again. Then Indio went to the bathroom and brought back two Johnson's Band-aids, and he rubbed peppers on each of the gauze pads, taping each Band-aid over one of Sip's nipples. Sip forgot his anus for a moment as his nipples began to scream in pain.

 

Indio was not done yet. No, not Indio. His pepper covered gloves rubbed about under each of Sip's arms, in Sip's mouth and behind each of Sip's knees...and then wandered up to Sipple's crotch.

Sipple howled more as Indio ran his pepper stained gloves around Sip's cock, doing the entire shaft and shoving a bit of pepper in the urethra. Sip bit his lip until he nearly bled as Indio massaged Sip's testicles with hot peppers, and suddenly it was worse.

 

Indio locked the Crusher on Sip as well, fully locking it until Sip's pepper infested penis and testicles were once again squooshed.

 

Now Sip's entire body was basked in horrific pain. But Indio was nothing if not compassionate. He said kindly. "The good news is, your exams are over and it's Saturday, and I'll turn the TV on while you become accustomed to this new sensation. Would you like to watch Gilligan's Island or My Favorite Martian?"

 

 Within a week, Sip was able to barely tolerate his new regimen of peppers, and then came the hair shirt. What's  a hair shirt, you ask? A hair shirt is made out of sewed together horse hair, that is worn next to the skin as a penance, usually by monks of the 15th century.

 

Somehow, Indio had gotten hold of one, and made Sip wear it under his shirt. This apparently was horrible, as it covered poor Sip with countless itching stings...it seemed as if he'd had the worst haircut of his life, and it was all under his shirt.

 

This,combined with the excruciating pain in his genitals, seemed to be levelling poor Sip, but he was determined to make it to school anyway. Sip was still wearing the Band-aids soaked in hot peppers on his nipples as well, so he must've just been in a world of hurt.

 

But as he adjusted to it, Sip found a new and interesting challenge to concentrate in class. Wearing a hair shirt, pepper covered genitals, nipples and anus, and of course the Crusher made it quite a feat to focus on differential equations or the finer points of Beowulf.

 

"But I'd always had attention deficit problems" Sip told me later after Indio's 1990 funeral. "And it was actually good for me to intensify my focus in the classroom while my crushed cock  and balls, and nipples and asshole were stinging to high heaven, and I was itching all over with the damn hairshirt. And now and then Indio would throw in Ben Gay in the Crusher as well.

 

But it sure cured me of being easily distracted by dropping a pencil or girl-watching. Later, after Indio took the Crusher off and removed my other sensory punishments, my attention was so good from the constant fight against the pain that I was easily able to make straight A's and  got into one of the best MBA programs in the nation." After a time, Indio began to feel sorry for Sipple, and removed the peppers and the hair shirt

 

But the Crusher stayed in his life for quite a while, as Indio was fascinated by the different challenges that Sip's cock and balls could take.

Soon after this, Sip and Indio drove out to his great-aunt's farm in northern New Jersey. After having a hearty breakfast with the old lady, who was impressed with Indio's knowledge of classical music, the boys went out to the barn.

 

Indio looked thoughfully at the beam running horizontally across the ceiling--a sort of rafter. Sip felt a bit nervous, and he had reason to be, for within twenty minutes, he was naked, except for the Crusher, and hanging from the rafter by a pair of handcuffs.

 

Standing on a cherry picker, Indio also locked Sip's ankles to two more handcuffs, and attached the ankle cuffs to the wrist cuffs. Now Sip was hanging with only the Crusher swinging from his crotch, as his arms and legs were locked onto the barn rafter.

 

Sip said later that although the pain in his wrists and ankles was considerable, he was so worried that the beam would break and that he'd fall on the Crusher and castrate himself, that he couldn't worry too much about pain.

 

Then Indio clapped his hands. "I wonder how much that beam can take" he said thoughtfully. Indio looked around the barn and found an old pail, and took it to an outside pump and filled it with water.

 

Attaching a bit of clothesline to it, Indio went up on the cherrypicker and attached the bucket of water to Sip's Crusher. Sip now had the triple whammy of a. hanging by his wrists and ankles b.wearing the heavy Crusher, which was squooshing his hot pepper and Ben Gay treated genitals, and c.having a heavier bucket of water hanging from the Crusher.

 

"It would be to your advantage not to spill the water, Sipple" Indio said softly. "I want to remain in a tranquil mood today."

 

Indio got down and nodded to himself, and went outside to read "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen. After thirty pages, Indio sketched Grandma Knox's henhouse. After this he took a nap.

 

For Sip, the next hour and a half was like nothing he'd ever gone through before. He had to pee, and couldn't because of the Crusher, and then he had a huge bucket of heavy water hanging from his genitals, which seemed to intensify the Crusher's effectiveness.

 

Also, Sip noticed that his skin just above the Crusher, which was holding his cock and balls, was starting to show in a stretchy, alarming way. This was bad, as Sip was quite aware that only old men had really hanging balls. At twenty-one, Sip didn't want to have hanging balls too soon.

 

Sip's wrists and ankles, up, spider like on the beam felt as if they were being wrenched from the beam. And of course Sip didn't know if the beam would hold. Indio did, as he had studied engineering books as a hobby in high school. Indio just wanted to fuck with Sip by making him wonder.

 

At some point, amazingly, Sip fell asleep while hanging, and  when he'd woken up, he'd spilled part of the water. My God, half the water has been spilled!

 

Indio came back into the barn, yawning, and climbed the cherry-picker to let Sip down. After Sip had finished rubbing his wrists and ankles to ensure the blood still flowed, he looked at Indio, who was cutting some twigs off a long hickory switch.

 

"I thought I told you not to spill the water." Indio looked at Sip inquiringly. "I hoped you wouldn't spoil a nice rustic vacation day by disappointing me, but again, Sip, you always do."

 

Indio broke four switches on Sip's naked butt and thighs before he was done, and Sip became absolutely hysterical in his promises not to let this happen again. Indio tied Sip up on the beam again.

 

Indio also re-attached the bucket the exact same way, and Sip was able to hold still for three hours while Indio sat outside and finished Jane Austen, and followed up with 50 pages of "Democracy in America" by Alexis D'Toqueville.

 

The following weekend they came out to the barn again, and this time Indio stripped Sip, but there was a problem--the Crusher had broken. How it happened was a mystery, but possibly they'd been over-using it. So Indio just cuffed Sip's wrists to the rafters and let him hang, and then chained his balls to a bucket again--but this time filled the bucket with pebbles.

 

This was a new experience in pain for Sip, but he was a brave fellow, and tried again to be brave the following weekend, when Indio attached a cinderblock to the bucket. "I am so glad you are becoming accustomed to your training" Indio said approvingly.

 

The next weekend, Indio informed Sip that he had been working with some minority youths who were interested in joining the Black Panthers. Indio knew that Sip was a big one for guns, and knew a lot about it, and although Indio was a pacifist politically, he'd agreed to train the young black men using BB pistols.

 

Sip told Indio he was fully supportive of Indio's efforts, and offered to use the farm to train the young men. Indio told Sip he was glad that Sip had come up with that, and that Sip could help further. Sip was happy to do so, until of course he discovered what Indio's idea was.

 

 

 

 

 

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