Breaking in a Toy —3
#3 of Breaking in a Toy
I took him out of my trunk, slipping him over my shoulder and heading into my home in the woods. The driveway to my forest abode was over a mile long and there were massive lengths of mostly unexplored property in any direction. Some of it was mine, some of it wasn't. It didn't matter. I was totally alone out here. The forest was eerily dark, but buzzed with the sleepy hum of insects and the occasional howl. Usual woods stuff.
My house was large, consisting of the fundamental building materials of brick and wood and concrete. This is not to say that it was industrial and cold. The floors were wooden and soft, with large rugs. The ceiling was high and the walls were all far apart from each other. It was a gift from a departed friend, this house. I didn't pay much or anything for it really, and it already came with generous square footage and a basement and the property. I'd added a room or two of course. A little cellar, a sub basement. A place where I intended to keep dark things dark, and secret things secret. An office of work and pleasure, a living space for the toy under my arm. It has a hidden entrance, accessible via an inconspicuous corner of the basement. The basement was also a living area, with wood floors but with smaller ceilings, and rugs of course. Even a small television that didn't ever get touched and a guest bedroom. Perhaps if I worked on the security of the guest room, and added locks and cameras and stuff I could transform it into a space for my new toy. After he'd been broken of course, after his submission was totally mine. He wouldn't see the stars that he loved seeing so much unless he begged to, unless Itook him outside on a leash. A smile of glee and content finally came to my mouth. I had a few more days of chaos to work through, after he was found missing. And I couldn't stay long here, needing to get back to camp soon to work on keeping this secret. I'd already left the bloody rags out in places they might get found.
Pushing on the space of wall in the corner of my basement made a chunk of rectangular wall open inward, swinging on a hinge. The little room was not lit, and I turned on the light. There was a shelf filled with toys for my toy. I unzipped the bag after setting it on a platform with arm, neck and leg binds. This is how he'd have to get used to sleeping, and I tugged his limp form out of the bag, letting him flot onto the cold concrete platform. There was a drain in the middle of the floor for if things got a little wet or bloody or if someone had an accident. I intended for things to all get like that, not yet though. The claw marks were sizable and nasty looking. By fighting against me and trying to run away he'd just exacerbated the wound size. I might even have to sew some up. That could wait for later however. His gag was still in, a little of his underwear was still poking out of his cute little asshole. I set the duffel bag aside and splayed him out on the concrete platform, making sure that his arms were in the the hoops and that he was fastened down properly. The restraints were on tight, he wouldn't be able to move when he woke up. He was breathing okay, his gag was coated in his saliva. His heartbeat was a little slow, but that was alright.
I took a step back from the platform to just look at him, study his slim form, love his boy curves, appreciate his nakedness and the bruises on his pretty face. Oh how I wished i had enough time to sit here forever, sit here until he woke up. I had so many ideas of what I could say or do to his confusion. I produced from the shelf a set of in-ear headphones and an mp3 player. I put it on some playlist of songs that were strange and dark and pushed the buds into his ears, setting the mp3 player into a kind of saddle bag pocket for the platform. I didn't need to blindfold him but I did anyways. It would just add to his terror. I wanted him scared, I wanted him in perpetual fear. I also produced from the shelf a little something extra.
It was a device of my own making, solely for the purpose of torture. The first part of it was a kind of suction cup that fit snugly around a flaccid penis, with a catheter to intake urine or semen. From this extended a hollow tube that the liquid would flow through, connected finally to a buttplug that the urine or semen would spill out of. There would be no choice if he pissed himself in where the piss would go. It would fill him up and he wouldn't be able to get it out and it would eventually absorb back into his system. I also brought out a kind of drinking tube, attached to a sack of purified water that led back into the shelf. I kept it firmly in his mouth, and it would only flow if he sucked on it. I didn't need the kid drowning already.
The mp3 player and the headphones were liquid proof. If they got wet they'd be fine, which was a good thing in this position. I needed to mark him as my territory. I whipped out my cock again, stood up on a stepping stool and began to urinate all over his body. I drink a lot of water, so it wasnt some dark yellow. It was a mostly clear warm stream with a long flowing time that spilled out of my urethra and over his body, running through his fur and over his wounds and dripping off of the concrete platform. Feeling the pleasure of watching his fur darken with my wolf-piss. My scent was good from my species. This would make him mine. It didn't matter if it took several days for me to come back home with everything that would elapse in the next several days... I finished my stream with a small splash of urine on his red cheeks. His entire body was soaked now, and I had spent most of my stream around his groin, watching the urine, run in rivulets down his scrotum, around my cock-contraption, pooling around his little tail and soaking into his ass cheeks. He was mine... All mine.... The blindfold around his eyes was solely for the purpose of fear. There was already no light in the chamber if I turned off the light, but waking up blindfolded is a lot scarier than waking up in the dark isn't it.
I ate a small meal and washed off my penis upstairs, avoiding the urge to stroke myself off again. I needed to get back to camp. Dispose of the evidence.