Marked by Mark -- Part Seven bamaboi2serve@charter.net
[As the author of this and other Nifty stories, i always appreciate comments. They are sometimes the only motivating factor in continuing to write, though i do now have an online Master who approves each part before i submit it to Nifty.]
After the trooper left, I ran to my car, removed the bumper-sticker and pulled back on the highway. I called my supervisor and rather than make some lame excuse, I told him the truth. I had been pulled over by a trooper for speeding. He was sympathetic and told me not to get stopped again by finishing the drive to work too quickly. Having just gotten to suck on some delicious black pole meat, I was thinking just the opposite and increased my speed a few miles per hour.
As I drove I used a car washing towel I had left on the back seat to try to dry off the rather obvious cum spot on the front of my pants. I also wiped off my face, removing the remnants the drool from the trooper's big cock. I knew his scent would be on me all day, and my cock twitched at the thought.
The smell of sex filled the car, and thinking about sucking off both Sir AND the trooper, all before even getting to work, got me hard again. Just a few days had passed between me meeting my new next door neighbor and me being a full-fledged bitch slave boi! I tried to ignore my horniness and concentrated on driving. I soon arrived at work without getting stopped again.
I work at a small suburban airport. I manage a combination gift shop/ luncheonette. It took me a bit longer to find a parking spot because I was so late, but soon I was through the main doors and in my little office at he back of the store. An assistant, Sal, had opened up the shop when I didn't show up.
"Good Morning!" he greeted me, glancing down at the rather obvious cum stain on my crotch and the little wrinkled places on my ironed shirt, marking the location of each tit! I mumbled something about spilling coffee but he didn't buy it and raised his eyebrows, smirking.
At my desk, I answered some e-mails from the company that owned the operation and finished ordering some merchandise. After an hour, I broke for some coffee.
Sammy, the Security manager for the airport, stopped by briefly and asked if I could help him with something...it was a slow day and everything seemed in order so I said sure and followed him outside.
"We've been having some difficulty with the new screening machines, can you act as guinea pig for a moment? he asked, and I said sure as he guided me over to the big refrigerator sized scanner with the traditional moving belt for luggage and what appeared to be a traditional door-frame walk through for passengers.
"OK empty your pockets, but leave this metal rod in one of them," he said, handing me a four inch piece of metal. I stuck it in my pocket and when he motioned for me to move, I walked through the checkpoint. There were a series of loud beeps and I stepped back.
"OK, let me have the rod," he said and I handed it back to him. "Now, again."
(Readers: I know you are thinking at this point that I must be the dumbest bitch in history, but I really, really had forgotten!)
I walked forward and an equally loud series of beeps sounded. Sammy looked at me quizzically. "Forget something?" he asked.
"Uh, I don't think...." I said as I checked my pockets. And then it hit me. Master's metal plug was still I in my ass! How could I have forgotten?
"Sammy, I gotta run..sorry it isn't working quite well..." I said, turning to leave, trying to get away.
"Hold on a minute, we gotta figure out what's happening here....check your pockets? Do you have a necklace on? Make sure nothing's in the back pockets," he told me. I knew there was nothing else, but went through the motions.
When I walked through again, the same beeps went off, and Sammy led me over to a special new security screener that had just been installed but wasn't being used for passengers yet. I didn't know much about it, but knew it cost a fortune. Sammy told me to walk through the huge hallway-sized passageway slowly, stop in the middle and turn around 360 degrees. I did just that. There was no sound, but when I emerged from the other side, Sammy and his co-worker, a cute 21 year old college boy name Manuel, were staring at the screen that had recorded some kind of x-ray images of me. The metal but plug was visible as clear as day, as was my hard cock!
"Uh, Sammy, let me explain...." I started to say, but he just looked disgusted and walked off. I was red-faced and trying to figure out what to do. Oddly enough Manuel didn't look uncomfortable at all. "Is that the biggest one you have slut?" he asked, gesturing to the screen.
"Uh, what do you mean big...i, uh, er..."
"The plug. Don't you have anything bigger than that?" he asked, smirking.
"Er, no I....i have more but..." I was speechless. What could I say?
"Just wait bitch, I'll bring you a better one tomorrow. I always knew you were a fag." he told me flatly, turned around and left to attend to passengers waiting at the other traditional metal detector.
I went back to my office and tried to stop blushing. The rest of the day I stayed inside, busying myself with paperwork till I could safely slink away, leaving Sal to close up. As I left, Sal gave me a knowing look and I was sure the story of my plug has been told to everyone at work.
The drive home was uneventful, but seconds after I got inside the house the landline phone rang. It was Manuel, asking if I didn't want him to hand deliver the bigger plug he had promised. When I didn't jump at the chance, he pushed me again and again to the point that I finally said it. I told him I was under a Master's orders and he would have to approve any new equipment.
"So you really are a bitch! You give your Master my phone number faggot, and tell him I'd like to be your at-work sub-Master. You got that?" he asked roughly.
"Yes Sir," I responded quietly. He hung up and I realized I was both hard and blushing! In my own living room! I jotted his number on a piece of paper and went to my bedroom and got undressed. I reached to remove the plug but stopped when I remembered my orders. I had to get permission.
I called the number Master had given me and he answered after three rings.
"Er, Sir, I uh, the plug...." I stumbled over my words.
"Shitface, what did I tell you to say? What were the words?"
I hemmed and hawed for a few seconds, trying to recall...then it came back to me. "Uh, Master, may I take the man-plug out of my sissy bitch whore ass please?" I said, somewhat tentatively, blushing even more.
"Not yet slut. Tell me what happened at work today first, and get on your knees to do it!" he demanded. I dropped to my knees, and as I started talking, telling Master about the security machine incident, I realized I could hear his occasional comments out of both ears, I turned my head quickly and there he was, leaning against the door frame of my bedroom door! He was wearing ultra-tight blue jeans and a leather harness without a shirt, looking incredibly hot! I shouldn't have been shocked to see him inside...he did have the house key I made for him. He closed his phone and put it in his pocket so I did the same, laying mine on the table since I was naked and therefore pocketless.
"...and then I got a call from Manuel at work, saying I should give you his phone number, that he wanted to be my work master, Master." I concluded, handing Master a piece of paper with the boy's number on it.
He put it in his pocket without looking at it and came over and started playing with my tits, softly at first, then harder, alternating between one and the other. My already hard cock bounced up and down from the stimulation, drops of precum splattering my chest and legs and his jeans. From a pocket, Master pulled out a pair of those Chinese tit clamps and quickly attached them, pulling on the chain several times to make sure they were secure.
He stopped and walked back across the room:"OK bitch, face away from me and bend over with your hands on the floor in front of you...lean forward and let me see my slave-ass!" Master removed the belt from of the pants I had been wearing and started slapping my ass in a rhythmic assault that soon had my cheeks red and hot.
"Count 'em!" he ordered.
"One, two, three, four..." I announced loudly to the room. More precum dripped from me each time the belt made contact. The tit clamps were swinging in time with the belt hits.
When I shouted out "50!" he finally stopped. I heard the sound of a camera clicking and knew my bright red ass was now memorialized.
"Slave boi...use one hand..just one! Reach back behind you and pull that plug out the same way you put it in...in one single motion, no pausing!!!" he demanded.
The plug was slippery from the ass juices that had leaked onto it during the day, making it a touch difficult to hold onto, but I managed to get a grip and pulled it sharply out. If I thought putting it in hurt this morning, that was nothing compared to the pain from stretching the hole open to remove it! I almost doubled over from the agony, but eventually the pain eased off. Throughout the entire process I had heard the camera shutter sound.
"Crawl your slave-ass over here boi...and clean up this slave spunk you soiled my jeans with," he ordered, pointing to the faint spots where my precum has splattered him. Master didn't have to tell me how to do the cleaning. I started licking each place where I had inadvertently marked Master. As I cleaned him, Master kept one hand on the back of my head, to make sure I was pressing against the fabric enough. With his other hand, Master used the camera to record my debasement. Naturally, that caused even more leaking. When I had finished cleaning his denim jeans, leaving little wet spots, Master simply pointed to the hardwood floor and I used my now raw tongue to wipe up the little pools of my juice that had spilled in several spots. As weird as it sounds, I liked the taste. I was a slut! Turned on by my own cum! More pictures were taken.
When I felt I had finished, I just stopped and assumed the kneeling position with my hands behind my back.
Master reached down and, without any notice, removed the clamps. The returning blood flow caused instant agony but I maintained my position as he draped the clamps and chain around my neck, attaching one clamp to another like a necklace. "Keep these around your neck until I take them off. They are to serve as a reminder of your slave status. This way they'll be handy anytime a Master wants to use them."
"OK bitch, break time, go put on one of your new white underwear and a pair of jeans," he ordered me. I complied, of course, and then knelt at his feet awaiting further orders.
"Get to the kitchen. I'm hungry. Make me some food, and I want you to start drinking these. All of them!" he told me, handing me a six-pack of cold iced tea from a bag he'd carried in with him.
In the kitchen I started making some fries and a hamburger for him, guessing about what he might want to eat. As I worked, I drank, finishing four of the six pack before I was ready to serve him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers and nodded for me to get under the table, where I was permitted to suck on him while he enjoyed his meal. Halfway through, he paused eating and I could sense him relaxing his body. Soon his piss was flowing and I was gulping to keep up, knowing that if I missed any I would be licking it off the kitchen floor, which I hadn't cleaned in a while.
Once he had finished the meal, he kicked me out from under the table and told me to clean up, ordering me to finish the remaining tea too.
As I worked, I became more aware that the iced teas (and his piss!) were catching up on me. I needed to piss and badly! Yet I didn't think I had the right to ask, so I held it for another half hour, practically crossing my legs as I finished cleaning the kitchen. When I was done, I went where he was sitting in the den (my den!) watching TV. I knelt, almost painfully this point, and finally asked outright if I could go to the bathroom to piss.
"You fucking wait, bitch," he replied. I tightened the muscles holding my piss in as much as I could. Another fifteen minutes and it was clear without me saying anything that I was about to burst.
"OK cunt, go stand in your bathtub and wait for me!"
ANOTHER ten minutes passed, and I thought I was going to collapse in the tub! Despite me best effort, a wet spot had formed on my jeans.
Finally, he walked in and gave me the order. "So piss you big sissy! Piss in your pants the way sissies always do!"
I didn't need any encouragement. At that point I would have pissed any way he wanted, just to stop from bursting! The dam broke and my jeans quickly were soaked as the warm piss flowed through my (white) underwear, soaking the jeans and filling the bottom of the tub in a yellow puddle. As I started, Master reached over and pulled the lever to block the drain. Soon my bare feet were standing in a pool of my piss. And still I pissed more! When I finally finished, Master came over and opened his fly and added more of his own piss to my tremendous output, spraying me from by waist down. All of my toes were covered by the time he was done.
"Put your hands behind your head cocksucker." he ordered. Once I had, he bent toward me and spit in my face and on my chest several times, grabbed the tit clamps and replacing them on my tender nubs.
Then, without saying a word, Master turned off the bathroom light and left me standing in the tub in soaked jeans and a puddle of his and my piss. His spit slowly worked its way down my face. I stuck out my tongue, anxious to capture a taste of my Master!
I listened to him changing channels on the TV in the den, ignoring me completely. He made a couple of phone calls, though I couldn't make out any of the conversation. After an hour, he came back in to the bathroom. By then the piss and spit was cold and with my arms behind my head, my shaved body was shivering slightly in the Air Conditioning.
He left the light off as he spoke to me.
"Here's the thing, bitch: New rule. Number Seven. From now on you will call Manuel "Master Sanchez". And I mean always! I talked with him on the phone and have decided to grant him at-work Master status. Everything in your pitiful little store is free for him...you put it on a tab and then you pay it. And if he wants to meet with you, you close the door to your office and make him happy just as you would me. Clean yourself and get to bed when I am gone slut. Replace the clamps around your neck. Understand?
"Yes Master." I said quietly in the dark.
He didn't say anything more, but left the room and eventually I heard the front door close. I removed the tit clamps form my sore tits and made them into the new mandatory bracelet, took a shower, and was asleep in half an hour. It had been a very long day.
[Thank you readers for your comments! Your emails are largely the inspiration for the story. bamaboi2serve@charter.net]