Worker's dormitory-BDSM story part 3
Chapter 10: At the Bottom of the Odor
The ritual that Robin had been waiting for all day followed. The guys settled on the low beds and stretched their legs out in front of themselves. After two days of heavy labor in airtight leather boots without a change, the smell of the military socks reached a new level of intensity. It was no longer just a regular smell of sweat. It was a heavy, concentrated, even putrid trace of decaying moisture, old leather, and sharp, sour ammonia. The smell was so strong that it almost stung the eyes.
Robin moved on all fours to Viktor's feet. The coarse gray wool of the sock was completely darkened on the sole, soaked and stuck to the skin. Robin without hesitation buried his nose and mouth directly into the area of the arch and toes. He inhaled that putrid, heavy stench with the full capacity of his lungs. The moisture from the sock clung to his lips.
Viktor placed his other foot heavily on the back of his neck and pressed him down. Robin was drowning in that smell, but instead of resistance, he felt absolute ecstasy. He moved to Karel. Karel slowly took off his socks and revealed bare, sweaty feet that smelled even sharper. Robin began to lick his toes and the space between them, while Karel pulled him by the hair with his other hand, occasionally kissed him on the crown of his head, and whispered rough but appreciative words to him. For the guys, Robin's face in their odor was the firmest bond that connected them after the shift.
Chapter 11: The Two-Hour Order
When all the feet were clean and the sniffing ritual reached its peak, the time came for the second part of the evening. Time slowed down. Viktor took Robin's hands and raised them above his head to the prepared rings in the doorframe. This time he tightened the straps more carefully, more firmly. Robin hung, his body surrendered, his back exposed to the silence of the room.
A movie started running on the small table, but nobody watched it. Viktor took the heavy leather whips into his hand. This was not supposed to be a quick punishment. It was supposed to be a methodical, two-hour process, where every blow had its precise place and meaning.
The first blow. The whistling of the air and the dull impact. Robin flinched. Viktor, however, was in no hurry. Each blow was followed by a long, calm pause. Viktor walked over to Robin, stroked him on the side, kissed him on the shoulder, and let his body fully absorb the coming pain.
The second blow. A minute later. Aimed purposefully at another place, right next to the old scar. The rhythm was hypnotic. The guys sat, sipped beer, occasionally someone stepped up to Robin, let him sniff their armpit, kissed him on the neck, and then gave Viktor a sign for the next lash.
Chapter 12: Merging with the Presence
In the middle of the second hour, Robin no longer perceived time. His back was a solid surface of burning fire, from which dark red stripes emerged. Every slow, methodical blow of the whips worked as an anchor that kept him in absolute presence. He could think of nothing else but the pain, the smell of the room, and the men who stood above him.
Karel occasionally stepped up with the wet, sweaty T-shirt from the cabin and pressed it to his face so that Robin, even during the whipping, breathed only their essence. The pain from the whip mixed with the putrid smell of the socks and the hot kisses he received from the guys between the blows. It was a perfect, raw merging.
When Viktor put the whips away after two hours, Robin's body was completely exhausted, covered in sweat and marks from the wounds. Viktor carefully unclipped him from the bonds. Robin could not stay on his feet and slid to the floor. The guys did not leave him lying in the dirt. Karel and Viktor lifted him, laid him between themselves on the bed, and covered him with a blanket. Robin lay in the middle of them, surrounded on one side by the scent of Karel's armpit, on the other side by Viktor's breath. The bond was sealed.
Chapter 13: Preparation for the Evening of Odors
Another weekday on the construction site was endless, but Robin survived it only thanks to the vision of what would come in the evening. When he returned to the room with the crew, the air immediately grew heavy. The guys threw off not only their fatigue, but went straight to the ritual. Without a single word, Robin was led to the whipping spot in the doorframe. Viktor raised his hands and firmly bound them to the metal rings. Robin hung there half-naked, with a tense body, ready for anything.
This evening, however, was designed as an absolute test of his senses. Karel took a thick string and stretched it right in front of Robin's face, just a few centimeters from his nose. Subsequently, the guys collected their military socks, which they had been wearing without washing for several days in a row. The socks were stiff, soaked through and through with sweat, and spread an unbearable, putrid stench around them. Karel hung them one by one with clothespins onto the string directly in front of Robin's nostrils. Robin was immediately surrounded by an impenetrable wall of the worst human odor, which forced him into deep, heavy breathing.
Chapter 14: The Clothespin Game
While Robin inhaled the putrid stench of the hanging socks, Viktor brought a box with wooden clothespins. The guys settled around him with open bottles of beer. A slow, methodical game with his body began. Viktor approached Robin from the front, roughly but firmly massaged his nipples for a while, and then sharply clipped a clothespin onto one of them. Robin flinched and dug his fingers into the bonds.
Karel joined in and focused on the other side. The tension in the room grew as the others watched. Every movement within the confined space was punctuated by the sharp sounds of the wooden clips and the heavy atmosphere. Robin remained trapped in his position, unable to escape the sensory overload of his surroundings. The methodical pace of the group continued, leaving Robin to endure the cold, calculated nature of their game.
Chapter 15: Concentrated Essence of the Hostel
As time passed, the room turned into a small, stifling space filled with coarse behaviors, where men drank heavily in a relaxed, raw environment. Karel asserted his dominance over a passive Robin by burping in his face, while Viktor added to the sensory overload by breaking wind and forcing smelly, wet boot insoles onto Robin's face.
Robin, experiencing a night of total immersion, endured the overwhelming, putrid odor of beer, sweat, and bodily gases. Despite the physical discomfort of the clothespins on his skin, he remained mentally paralyzed by the intense, gritty atmosphere of the workers' hostel.
Chapter 16: Vaccination into the Nostrils
The peak of the evening came when Karel sat down on a low stool directly under the hanging Robin. He slowly took off his massive work boots and revealed bare feet. They were sweaty, white from the all-day moisture, and spread a sharp sour odor around themselves. Karel placed his foot on Robin's thigh to stabilize himself, and with the fingers of his other hand, he began to go deep into the interdigital spaces of his foot.
After a while, he pulled his fingers out, coated with a damp, grayish, and extremely smelly interdigital buildup – the so-called toejam. Karel grabbed Robin by the chin, forced him to open his mouth and tilt his head back, and then rubbed this concentrated buildup all at once directly into both of his nostrils.
"There you go," Karel said as he finished. Robin sat there, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment and the sensory overload of his surroundings. The group of men watched him for a moment, then finished their drinks. They eventually left the room, leaving Robin alone in the silence to process the events of the evening.
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