Date: Sun, 10 Nov 2013 12:11:29 -0500 (EST)
From: bamaboi2serve <bamaboi2serve@charter.net>
Subject: OWNED at Last 3

OWNED At Last -Three
bamaboi2serve

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     The months passed and the packages flowed from my little Post Office
to His.
     He loved ordering me to send photos of what i was wearing on a
particular day, and then demanding i send them to Him. As Summer ended, the
clothes moved into warmer long-sleeved hoodies and even a pair of
jeans. With each package a required porn video was included, and he
increasingly wanted printed pictures of me, so as to save Him from having
to pay for the expensive ink cartridges in his printer. I tried to add
something unexpected to surprise Him.
     i was getting better at taking cell phone pictures of bois and men in
public, and he would chastise me if i returned from a shopping trip with
none at all for Him.
     i had never told him my real name, nor where i worked my two jobs, btu
i suspected he was getting to know me more and more each day.
    i finally gave in and sent him the log-on information to my XTube
account as the cold weather set in. What point was there in keeping it from
Him, i asked myself. As he had told me to do, in wrote it out and included
it in a package of clothes i had worn one Saturday...including a new
jockstrap for Him.
   i knew all of the clothing looked better on Him than on me. His Hot Ass
much better framed by the jock straps, his chest and arms stretching the
tanks and shirts i sent him. His cock in the cock rings i sent also looked
more appropriate on Him than on me.
   Meanwhile i considered using a different post office, to avoid the
stares and smirks of the young clerk who seemed to be there every time i
visited. But when i asked Him if i could do so, He said no.  Then one
afternoon i discovered why.
   He had tracked down the local PO location and called one day,
recognizing the young male voice as the must-be clerk i had told Him about.
   The next time i went to mail him a package, the clerk, about 6' 2" with
jet black straight hair and a two-day beard growth, looked at me and
casually asked if the jock straps were clear or dirty.
    i was so shocked, i stood there with my mouth open saying nothing.
    "BITCH!", he yelled, ARE THEY CLEAN OR DIRTY?" he demanded as i looked
behind me, realizing i was the only customer in the middle of the
afternoon.
   "Dirty," i mumbled.
   |"Look at me!" he demanded, and i did.
   " Come behind this counter and kneel down."
    i was in a trance or something, and followed his orders immediately,
walking around
 the counter and positioning myself on my knees facing him, hidden from the
customers who now started entering. He unzipped his pants and within
seconds i was busy sucking him off. He was big! My mouth and throat were
quickly filled, my lips against his trimmed pubesm and minutes later he was
pumping his seed deep into my throat. He ordered me to look at him and when
i turned my face he, he dribbled a long stream of his saliva across my face
and hair.
     His name was Trent, but from that day on i was required to call Him
Trent Sir, in private or in public, and aloud too. It made people look
curiously at me when i came to him to mail a package and called him that.
     Trent Sir was skinny, underweight actually, and did not really have
the kind of Hot Ass my Sir did. He was younger than either of us, but
seemed anxious to please Him, and to abuse me.
     He had explained that my Master out West had called one day, telling
him who He was---and who i was---and that Trent could get in on a good
thing if he was interested. He was, and now i was not only serving a Master
from afar, but his stand-in right down the street.
     It complicated my life but kept me hard almost all of the time.
     Master would order me to wear certain plugs or clamps or clothes, to
piss myself or cum and smear it on my face, and Trent Sir would be able to
confirm that i was obeying when i crawled under His counter to serve
Him. Sometimes there were customers at the counter as i was sucking him
off, trying not to make too much noise. He would reach down and grab my
head, skull fucking me even as he spoke to some customer about the postage
rate to Indonesia.
     Then he started taking pictures of me underneath the counter and
sending them to far-off Sir. They clearly showed my face, Trent Sir cock
buried deep, bulging out my cheeks, and i feared they would show up on the
Tumblr page...though so far they had not.
     Trent Sir would press his booted foot onto my crotch and stomp my own
cock to the dirty floor as i services him.
     If there were no customers, he would ask"Who is your Master shitface?"
And i would mumble through my stuffed mouth "Sir is", referring to Sir out
West. He knew the right pecking order and always respected Him, making sure
i was being obedient. He was like a trained shepherd guard dog, ensuring
the bitch flock did as told.
     If it was after lunch when i came to Trent Sir to mail another package
of clothes and porn and pics and sex toys to Sir, he would demand i stay in
place after he had cum, pissing into my mouth to relieve himself of the
morning coffee or soda. The first time it happened i gagged a bit and
spilled some of his piss on the ground. He made sure i was on the floor
licking it clean before i left. i never spilled any again.
     Sir started to get jealous of Trent Sir...after all, he was getting to
actually use me physically while He had to put up with just my tribute
gifts of jock straps and porn and underwear and stuff.
    Soon He would find a solution to that.

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Him first, and IF he permits, i will write back.]