Date: Sun, 17 May 2009 12:56:59 -0700
From: bamaboi2serve <bamaboi2serve@charter.net>
Subject: Marked by Mark - Part 2

Marked by Mark -- Part 2
bamaboi2serve

[Thanks to the readers who took the time to write to say they enjoyed Part
One. I also heard from a Master who berated me for some typos, promising a
serious bare-ass paddling and more if there are any in part 2. I promised
him I would be careful, and I will. One mistake example is the story
name. I originally planned to call the slave boi Mark, but ended up
switching it, so the Master is Mark and the story name is actually "Marked
BY Mark" Sorry, Sir. Bb2s]

***

      I was still exhausted, still very hard and horny, when I finally
climbed out of bed at 5:30 the next morning. I had not slept well.
     Master Mark (that's how I already thought of him) hadn't said what
time he expected to be served breakfast, and I kept waking up through the
night, worried I would be too late for him.
     As ordered, I showered, deciding not to do any body shaving until he
told me what he wanted done, if anything. After the shower, my cock finally
softened a bit, making it easier to work around the hot stove and toaster
as I cooked breakfast.
     Master hadn't told me what he wanted to eat, so I tried to put
together a wide enough selection to make him happy.
     I made coffee and hot water for tea, prepared some eggs for scrambling
and boiled two others. I toasted both bread and an English muffin. I put
out some cereal and fruit. I was covering as many bases as I could. When I
had done everything possible to prepare, it was 7:00am. I went to the
entryway and knelt down in a submissive position, naked, and again, hard
from the mere thought of serving Him!
    7:30 came and still no Master. My cock deflated somewhat as I waited. I
craved him, needed to serve him.
    At 7:40, the door opened and he walked in. I had made sure to leave the
door unlocked. I kept my eyes on the floor and my hands behind me in what I
had read was "presentation position" for properly trained slaves. He walked
past me without saying a word and I heard him making his way around the
house, going from room-to-room, perhaps looking for something. He went into
the bathroom and I could tell he was going through the products on the sink
countertop and in the medicine cabinet, tossing somethings into the little
metal trashcan. The he went into the den and my bedroom, returning with my
dog collar and the now dried out jock. He threw them on the floor below me.
   "Put these on, cocksucker," he ordered.
   I quickly complied and then resumed my position.
   "Open your toilet mouth," he demanded as he unzipped, and I did.
   He rested his cock on my tongue and in just seconds started pissing,
quickly filling my mouth as I swallowed to keep up with his flow. Some
spilled onto my chest and to the tile floor, but I managed to get most of
it into me. It was apparently his first morning piss, acrid and strong, not
at all like my own watered down piss that I used in my imaginary
punishment/reward scenes. I swallowed it anyway, willing, hell, anxious to
do what he ordered. Done, he pulled away and walked into the kitchen,
tossing an order over his shoulders for me to lick up the few drops that
had landed on the tile. I did so quickly, feeling grit from the entryway
floor on my tongue.
    The next thing I heard was his command: "Get your fucking skinny slave
ass in here and serve me boi! What the fuck good are you anyway?"

     I hustled in. He was seated at the kitchen table. I wondered if I
would have to speak to ask him what he wanted, but he quickly ordered me to
scramble him eggs with cheese and make some bacon. I had the bacon, but no
cheese and took a chance in telling him so.
    "Should I send you out to the store to get some cheese? Dressed like
you are shithead? I mumbled "If you want me to, Sir"
    "Get on your fucking worthless knees and wait for me to return!" he
ordered. I immediately complied.
     He left the house, again leaving the door wide open, inviting in any
friend or neighbor who might happen to come by. I suddenly [pictured my
little brother deciding to come by without calling, and blushed at what he
might think of me, kneeling in submission with a dog collar on.
     I could hear from Master's footsteps that he was going to his house
next door. He returned quickly, went over to my kitchen counter, opened a
drawer and pulled something metallic out. I was watching the floor, trying
to figure out what he was doing by sound alone.
     "Get that ass up in the air slut, just like you would if you were down
on the corner begging for cock!" he commanded. My head was quickly flat on
the ground, raising my ass up. I felt something placed at my hole and then
pushed, unlubricated, in. I won't say it didn't hurt, but whatever it was
felt semi-soft, almost dildo like. Then the object slipped all the way in,
giving me a kinda filled feeling. He ordered me back on my knees.
     "Here's the other half," he said, handing me half of a longways cut
block of cheese. "From now on make sure you have cheese in the refrigerator
or next time I'll insert a nice big foot-long cheese log and make you keep
it in for a week! And on top of that I might make you walk to the store
wearing that pitiful jock strap, to buy some more!"
      I wondered if he knew that the thought of doing so turned me on, even
though I knew I could never convince myself to actually do it. Then I
recalled that he had witnessed me parading around on the back deck. He knew
my exhibitionist side. Hadn't he also left the door open last night?
     He ordered me to make breakfast.
     I made the bacon, put his plate together and served it to him on a
tray.
     "Get the fuck down under the table and entertain me while I eat,
pisshead!" He ordered.
     I crawled underneath and saw that his cock was protruding from his
jeans. I took him in my mouth and started sucking. As I suspected, He was
big! I quickly had my mouth filled, but he reached down and put one of his
hands on the back of my head, forcing his rigid tool deep into my throat. I
was quickly unable to breath, but I didn't fight him, letting his shaft
fill me, using my tongue to lick the root end of his tube, praying he would
eventually pull out. He was in so deep his black kinky pubes filled the
opening of my mouth. He removed his hand, knowing I would stay impaled on
his cock, and calmly resumed eating. After a few bites of eggs and bacon,
he pulled back and I was able to breathe for a moment.
     He repeated that deep throat plunging several times. It never got easy
to do, but I adjusted, holding my breath as he plunged in, grabbing air
when he released me. It continued till he finished his meal, and my throat
was raw from the exercise. Still, my own cock, untouched, was constantly
hard.
    "I already told you Rule Four, bitch," he announced as he removed
himself from my mouth without cumming. "We'll see how you do without
cumming for a week or two and then adjust as needed. You are here for my
pleasure, not your own," he told me as I remained kneeling under the table
at his feet.
     "Part of Rule Two...and you had better memorize these rules!... part
of Rule Two is you don't wear deodorant or use anything on my slave body
that has a scent to it. None of those faggot soaps that smell like fuckin'
flowers. I put your girly stuff in the bathroom trashcan. Empty it out when
I leave. I want you to get used to smelling like the pig you are. Oh, and
showers? Maybe once a week, when and only when I tell you to. After I
leave, shave the man-hair off your legs. You're a worthless slave-cunt, not
a real man. We'll deal with the rest of it later when I establish it as a
rule..no fuckin' hair on bitches."
     As he spoke, he had casually unlaced the short boots he was wearing
and pulled them, and his socks, off. He positioned his foot at my mouth,
pushing me back away from him to make it comfortable for him to stretch his
legs out as he sat at the table. I didn't need an order to start sucking on
his toes, using my tongue to lick between them, realizing immediately he
had not showered that morning.
     "Good boi! You may have slave material in you after all!"
     I spent the next twenty minutes washing is feet with my tongue,
learning the texture and scent of each toe as he read the newspaper I had
left on the table for him. He would move his feet, positioning them so I
could lick every part of them. I had never been "into" feet, but I was
willing to learn his needs. Isn't that was servitude is about?
     There were other orders that first morning. I was to make a house key
for him, giving him access to come and go anytime he wanted, even when I
was at work. He liked to smoke weed on weekends, he told me, ordering me to
find some for him and to keep it in a special box in the kitchen. I had
smoked some, but had never bought any, and the idea of finding it filled me
with worry. I was to start a log book, writing down the rules and keeping
an exact list of any violations, even those that occurred when I was alone.
     Eventually he kicked me out from under the table, pulled off his
muscle shirt, holding his arms behind his neck and having me lick his pits
clean as he watched a morning news program on the little kitchen TV. After
ten minutes working on each one, he stood, ordered me back on my knees and
began fucking my mouth.
     As I learned that morning, He was able to get hard very quickly, and I
hoped it was my mouth that was responsible. Holding the back of my head
with both hands, he pulled his shaft deep into my throat, breaking away at
one point to go over and open the front door.  It was a Monday holiday
morning, and there was a weekend trickle of traffic on the street. If a
driver looked over! Then there was the possibility of a jogger or...I gave
up worrying and concentrated on giving him the best blow job he'd ever
had. My throat was already primed for his substantial meat from the
under-the-table exercise, and apparently my cocksucking was satisfactory,
because after just a few minutes with the door open, he pumped his juice
into my throat, saving the last spurt so it would land on my tongue. He
ordered me not to swallow.
     He pulled out. And leaned against a nearby wall, pushing the door
closed as he did.
     "Not bad cocksucking for a pissy worthless slave-boi bitch. Keep your
mouth open wide and don't you dare swallow my seed till I tell you. Head
back and mouth open all the way!" From his pocket he pulled out a pair of
black metal tit clamps with alligator teeth on them. With no warning, no
warm-up, he positioned them on my tits and let go.  I struggled to stay
still and in position. Eventually the deep pain ebbed and I adjusted.
     Master came over to me and started spitting into my open mouth, some
of it wetting my face. I worked hard to keep it all from sliding down my
throat, since he had told me not to swallow. As I struggled to keep his
fluids in my mouth, he left me alone and walked to the bathroom. I could
head him rinsing his mouth out with mouthwash.
     When he came back, he stood for a moment, and then gave me a one word
order: "Swallow!" I did.
     And that was it. He walked out, again leaving the door wide open, and
I was alone in my house. It was just 9:30am on a Monday and I had been
treated as I dreamed of being treated for two hours. I was sore but
satisfied.
     And I knew it was just the beginning.

[If you like the story so far, please drop me a line. That's the only
reward we Nifty authors get, and it is a powerful incentive to continue!
Storyline suggestions are welcome too. bamaboi2serve@charter.net]