Date: Fri, 12 Feb 2016 18:25:49 +0000 (UTC)
From: Abra Cadabra <abracadabra923@yahoo.com>
Subject: thirteen marks part 4

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MARK SIX

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Van jogged down the stairs to the exit. He hadn't activated the timer yet
because he had to stop to open the front door. Once outside in the late
morning heat, he started the timer and jogged at a slow pace. There was no
need to tire himself out when there was nobody around anyway.

His dick bounced with every step, rubbing against the inside of the pouches
fabric and causing strong erotic pleasure, especially combined with the
piercing that made his dick extra sensitive. The butt plug wasn't pressing
to hard anymore as he had gotten used to it and massaged his prostate as he
jogged along. The nipple rings bounced as well, stimulating him in a way he
had never experienced before.

The oiled up muscle teen made his way almost around the full block when he
came across an obstacle. A construction site had cut off the street
entirely. There were multiple men working on the road and Van didn't want
to get close enough to give them a look at his body.

He took a turn hoping to go around that block and end up on his original
street. But the construction site extended to even there. Apparently they
were digging up pipes along the whole way. Van ran four blocks before he
was able to turn back.

The boy past a few stores with glass fronts so it was impossible to remain
unseen. Whenever he saw a pedestrian ahead he switched to the other side of
the road.

Other than the fact that he was drenched in sweat and horribly thirsts it
was going well. Judging by what he usually accomplished by jogging he could
guess that he was about five to ten minutes in.

More than anything the pleasure of his dick head, his prostate and his
nipples being constantly stimulated were on his mind. He fantasized about
girls from school and had to keep himself calm so he wouldn't just cum
while running.

Now it was time to turn around and make his way back. Next time he'd try to
run around the other block across the street to avoid the construction.

But there was some kind of event going on in the street he entered. Two
dozen adults and their children were celebrating some spoiled kid's
birthday. Van bitterly though that this child would never have to do
humiliating tasks because of a dead relative.

He turned around. There was no way those people wouldn't call the
police. He jogged yet another block and tried again. He was almost out of
the local neighborhood.

There was a private high school he had completely forgotten about. It was
break time and as soon as one child saw him everybody was filming him on
their phones. He jogged as far as possible on the other side of the road
but they were certainly getting good shots of him. And to make matters
worse there was a roadblock that kept him from turning back, because
electricians were installing new overhead cables.

By now he was about ten to fifteen minutes in and felt like dying of
thirst. The sweat was trapped under his oil layer and heated him up. When
sweat escaped at all it ran down the oil instead of evaporating and taking
body heat with it.

He was very close to cumming and very close to collapsing.

Van soldiered on as well as he could, jogging at the slowest speed
possible. He past another event, but this time it was all adults drinking
beer so he didn't care and slowly ran by. In the corner of his eyes he saw
the stares but there was nothing to do about that.

The next part was a problem because he was about to enter a district of the
city where streetlights were a regular occurrence and he couldn't stop to
let cars pass.

Only one other way led him back. Through the annual farmer's street fair.

A lot of people where at the fair, hundreds perhaps overall, but they were
not densely crowded enough to obstruct him and that was all that
counted. He ran past the first few stalls unnoticed but soon he became the
center of attention of every crossing he passed. He stayed on the main path
which was the broadest and let him jog straight through. But that gave
practically every attendant a great view of him.

He was yelled at and called every name possible from `pervert' to 'faggot'
to `rapist'. But the worst thing was that people everywhere were enjoying
refreshments. They drank organic juices and off brand cola but, more than
anything, delicious water.

Van felt like dying but he knew he had to be close to twenty minutes by
now. He focused on the one positive thing he had – the sensation of
getting his dick head caressed by the silky pouch.

It took forever and he felt like every street fair attendant had taken
pictures of him but he made it out alive. Now he could finally turn back in
the direction of his place. And because the fair ran along a diagonal he
only had one more block to go.

Except with great shock he realized that he had lost his keys.

Van turned around and ran back the way he had come. If he had lost the keys
in the fair he would perhaps never see them again but it was possible he
had dropped them early on.

The second time jogging through the stalls wasn't easier but still nobody
bothered him with anything other than name calling. He was looking on the
ground, retracing his steps. The keys weren't there and so he kept going
backwards.

A camera team documenting the fair was able to get great close-up pictures
of him but he didn't feel any more exposed than he did anyway.

The feeling of his dick getting a light massage together with his nipple
and prostate stimulation were his only motivators.

He made it all the way back to the spot where a children's birthday was
occurring.  There were his keys. Finally. He ran by and swooped them off
the ground without stopping.

"Hey you pervert!" a young man yelled at him. "I've seen you ran past here
before. I'm calling the police. Stay where you are and I'll tell them to be
gentle. Don't make this difficult."

Van, of course, didn't stop or even look back. To his horror, the man ran
after him at astonishing speed.

Van raced for his life, disregarding the pain in his dry throat and his
side stitches. He had to escape.

It took four blocks until the man fell back. Van had made it. He was almost
happy, but the many kinds of pain he felt didn't let him be anything other
than miserable.

The boy though the man might have finally give up as he wasn't followed
after a turn, so he slowed down and kept looking behind him. After a few
seconds he concluded that the man had indeed given up. Then, still looking
behind him, Van ran into a letter box, dick first.

It wasn't really painful but it stopped him effectively.

There was the tingling again, immediately after. He had failed. Then the
timer on his phone rang, two seconds too late.

Across his abs, words formed, spelling out "DICK SLAVE".

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The next mark is perhaps my favorite. It's a lot more creative than a
simple slur and will have lasting consequences.

If you liked it so far, tell me about it.