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Super Bowl Party, Part III
Food shopping might not be everyone's idea of fun, but I've always kind of liked it. That's especially true when I'm shopping for items to make for Master Rob's party, as it just seems so much more important when it's for him than when I'm shopping for myself.
Nothing is going to be frozen for this party, so I head to the meat section to get some nice sirloin to grind up for burgers. Really good cheese, fresh veggies, artisan rolls (even Master Rob doesn't expect me to bake hamburger buns) and then some veggies to cut up and ingredients for a dip. (No pre-packaged veggie dip tray for my hot master.) I'm browsing through the produce section when one of the employees comes over to me.
"I think you should come with me," he says. Now the guy looks pretty good, mid-20s, Italian, very intense eyes, but I have work to do. "I'm sorry," I say, "but I really need to get my shopping done." He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "I know. Rob told me, but he also said you would have enough time for me. His words: For a few minutes, make my faggot yours." Too stunned to say anything, I just nod and follow him into the back.
WTF? Master Rob never had pimped me out before (which is another reason why Sunday was a little scary) and I certainly never thought he wouldn't mention it to me first. "Make my faggot yours." So does that mean I have to be this produce guy's bitch? Wow.
So we go into the back of the store and through this heavy plastic curtain to a large, cold room full of boxes of vegetables. "I know it's cold, faggot, but this is the only room back here where nobody is likely to wander in."
I'm still kind of freaked out, but clearly he knows he can use me the way he wants and just as clearly Master Rob told him I was going to be there today. After all, he knew exactly which shopper to approach. And it's not like he was ugly.
"I have some piss for you, pussyboy," he said. I immediately walk over close to him and drop to my knees. He takes out a nice-sized piece and lays it across my face. "I know Rob needs his fag to get things done, so this won't take too long. Swallow my piss before I fuck your brains out." He puts his dick in my mouth and I take about one-third of it into my mouth. It takes a little bit of time before the flow starts. "That's it, you lucky faggot. Savor every bit of that nasty piss." I keep up with the flow -- I did not want to lick any piss off of this floor, which was basically like a garage floor. When he's done, he takes his dick out and slaps my face with it. It's not hard yet, and it felt good. "You know, I never did that before and I thought Rob was crazy when he said I should do that. But that was pretty hot. I just might have to find my own faggot."
I say nothing, but, remembering what he said before he started pissing, I undo my pants, drop them to the floor and bend over a stack of boxes. "You are ready for this fuck tool, aren't you faggot? Chicks love this meat, and you will, too. Not that that part matters much, right, boy?" "Right, Sir. It's all about your pleasure." "Fuck yeah, bitch." And with that he lines up the head of his cock with my anxious hole and starts to shove it in. No lube, no spit, no nothing. I scream, but he quickly covers my mouth with his hand. "Lick my hand, fag, and scream like that again and I'll give you a better reason to scream." I start to lick his fingers when his other hand comes up to my face. He now is holding my head in both hands with fingers entering my mouth from each side.
By the time I started to lick fingers on each hand, he is almost in me, and it hurts like hell. It had been a couple of years since anyone fucked me without lube, and that was a 21-year-old black kid who could have shoved a Louisville Slugger up my cunt and I would have thanked him. Yeah he was that hot. This guy looked good, but I was still so confused by how I happened to be in the back room of this supermarket with a guy Master Rob knows just starting to fuck me raw. Suddenly, the more depressing aspects of being a slave entered my head. Here I was, a toy for the use of anybody my master might know. I started to feel sorry for myself when produce guy says, "Arch your back, fag. This is just starting to get good."
And that's when any more self-esteem issues left my body, perhaps pushed out of me by this Italian cock slamming into my guts. If serving this guy pleased Master Rob, then who was I to spend any time thinking about the meaning of it all? Then I thought that this guy undoubtedly would report to Master Rob, and the better time he had the better it likely would be for me, and suddenly I was into it. I started to join him in the motion, shoving my ass back onto his cock with a fury that led to the collisions of man crotch and faggot ass to make the most glorious sound. I went from reluctant bottom bitch to cock-craving whore in seconds, and he noticed.
"Damn, fag, you really do love dick deep in your pussy, don't you?" I don't say a word, choosing instead to thrust backward even harder, squeezing my rectum as best as I could. I have to admit, getting a near-raping in the back room of a supermarket was pretty hot, and this guy clearly had dom genes in him. Just when I started to wonder if he was gay or straight, he went into overdrive.
"You are going to get my load, pussyboy, and it's going to be a big one. Want it, faggot?" I just moaned in response, continuing to squeeze his dick as he neared his climax. And then it came, spurt after spurt, flooding my hole with his hot cream.
"I hear you fags clean cocks after they breed your pussy," he says, not yet pulling out. "Yes, Sir," I replied. He slowly let his softening dick slide out of my very raw ass, then moved around to my other hole. Without a word, I take the dick in my mouth and slurp off all of the fag juices for him. At least that's what my old master said when he trained me to do that. "No man wants to finish raping his faggot and then walk away with the fag juices still on his dick. Clean it for him to show respect." I loved that man, and while I have no feelings for the produce guy, I cleaned his cock the way I would my original master's.
"That is hot," he said. "Bitches don't do that. I might have to jump the fence more often."
"You were great, Sir. Thank you for fucking me and thank you for your load and thank you for your piss." (More original master training.) He smirked at that and told me to pull up my pants. "Now I get to enjoy knowing that as you go through your day you will have my sperm in your faggot cunt. Hope that sticks in your head the same way it will stick in your ass."
I buckle my belt and start to leave. I turn to him and ask, "Was I OK, Sir?" "Satisfactory, for a fag," he said. "Come here. Let me kiss you good-bye." He didn't know that much, did he? Oh, but he did. He grabbed my face in both hands, hocked up a juicy one and sent it right into my mouth. He watched it slide around my tongue, smirking at his new conquest, and then gently slapped the side of my face. "Good job, fag. See you tomorrow."
I started to walk away without even realizing what he had said. By the time I got to the alcohol section it dawned on me that "see you tomorrow" meant he was going to be one of Master Rob's party guests.
With less than 24 hours to go before the party, there was little chance I was going to meet any of the others, but damn. That was one hell of an introduction.
Part 4 coming soon.