Date: Sun, 12 Jul 2009 19:51:46 -0700
From: bamaboi2serve <bamaboi2serve@charter.net>
Subject: Marked by Mark, Part 9

Marked by Mark, Part 9
by bamaboi2serve
bamaboi2serve@charter.net

[i have been, as usual, a bad bitch. No excuse, but life has interfered
with me telling this story. Worst of all i have neglected my online Master,
and i know i will have to pay a price for that. Please remember that any
Masters who email me will have their emails forwarded to Master for his
approval or rejection of whatever is being proposed. Now, back to the story
of our somewhat over-Mastered boi.]

     The rest of the day at work was a blur. The store and lunch counter
ended up being very busy, and that helped me avoid dealing with Sal, though
I certainly noticed that he told me to do things for him during the
afternoon. He no longer asked me, his boss, to do something. And I did as I
was told.
      When closing time came, I locked my office and turned to leave, but
Sal was barring my way. He nodded downward toward the floor. Soon I had my
clothes off, Sal's zipper was open, and I was back in slave position with
his cock deep in my throat. I could still taste the juices on him from the
lunchtime fucking, but I paid it no attention. I was too busy swallowing
his big tool, trying to time the opening of my throat with the plunge of
his meaty cock. Sal had picked up my white briefs...the ones Master Trooper
had used to wipe my face off and to piss on early that morning. Sal draped
them over my head like a kind of bandanna. It covered my eyes and nose and
I could smell the sex on them. It was also humiliating, even without anyone
but Sal there to see it! I felt the heat of my face blushing.
     "Stick one your fingers in that slave hole of your's bitch," he
ordered, using the name tattooed on my lower back. I think he wanted to
make sure I knew he had see it, though neither he not Master Manuel had
said anything about it. My ass was certainly lubricated enough. My finger
slid in easily.
     When he had started using me, Sal had placed his hands on my head to
guide me, but he quickly saw I was well trained and there was no
need. Instead. He removed the belt from his jeans and used it on my ass as
I went down on him.
     We were situated in front of the door to my office, and a rack of
paperbacks blocked the waist-down view from people walking past in the
airport hallway. But they could see Sal standing there, and at one point
there was some knocking on the large glass window. I could make out the
voice of the Airport Manager yelling a greeting to Sal.
     Sal yelled a hello loudly enough to be heard through the glass and
waved. Even with his flesh deep into my throat, he was casual enough I was
sure nobody suspected anything.
     Right after that, Sal put his hands back on my head and started
pulling me forcefully onto his spear with mighty thrusts that reached deep
into me, forcing me to open up all the way for him, breathing through my
nose as best I could. Do I have to tell you that my own cock again took
over and shot onto the lowest shelf of books as Sal grunted and shot his
ample load into me? I couldn't remember the last time I had cum by touching
myself!
     When he had recovered and caught his breath, Sal pointed to the books
I had soiled.  "You fucking know I'm not gonna clean that shit up
bitch...get licking while I grab a drink! And lick that finger of yours
clean shithead!"
     I did as told, of course, holding my breath as I cleaned my
finger. Most of my cum had landed on the covers, and it was fairly easy to
lick it off the smooth surfaces. But there were some drops on the edges
too, and I had to really lick to get those up. As I was cleaning for Sal, I
wondered who would buy the book, and if they would perhaps smell the
remnant of my jiz as they sat in their plane reading! There were a few
drops on the floor too, and without asking, I licked them (and the dirt on
the floor) up too.
    Sal reappeared for a moment and tossed a "Night fag!" remark in my
direction as he unlocked the door and left. I followed a few minutes later
and drove home without incident. I had had so much going on in the past few
days that I was exhausted. But as soon as I entered my house, I knew my
work was not over. Master was sitting in the best chair...my best
chair!...smoking a cigar and watching TV naked.
    "Hey bitch, perfect timing! Strip down to your white underwear slut,
and get your worthless faggot ass over here and open up wide!" he called
out loudly. I knew what he wanted...I was getting good at anticipating my
Masters' needs...so I stripped, leaving on only the tit clamp necklace and
white underwear, and stretched down on the floor between his legs on my
back. I bent my head backward so it was right in front of the chair edge,
evenly positioned between his thighs. I opened my mouth as wide as I could
so he would be able to rest his cock in it without moving too much, though
he scooted forward a bit to make the angle work. Almost immediately his
piss started rushing into my well used mouth, and I struggled to keep up
and not spill any. The floor underneath was carpeted, and I didn't relish
trying to clean up any drops from in between the carpet weaves.
     Master must have been drinking a while, for it took him a few minutes
to completely empty his bladder into me. When he had finished he shook it,
just as if he were at a urinal!. The last few drops hit my face, marking me
even more.

     "Bitch, I want you to call in sick tomorrow. You do look sick, you
know? Anyway, I need to spend some serious time with you to remind you
who's the top Master around here. I had fun playing with the cop...and I
got a report from your job-Master, Manuel, about your performance at
lunch...so I also know about the boy Master Sal. Not to mention your
favorite tattoo artist, Sir! Too many Masters, I'm beginning to think,
Let's plan on spending the whole day tomorrow in training. I'm gonna leave
you alone here tonight to do whatever cleaning you need to do...make sure
you do a good cleaning job on that slave body of mine...inside and
out...pay your bills..do whatever it is slave cocksuckers do when they're
not on their knees satisfying their Master or with their asses in the air
getting fucked. Get to bed early cause I'll be ready to start at 7:00am
tomorrow."
     "Yes Master," I responded, even though my acknowledgement was a
given. This was THE Master, what would I deny him?
     I did as Master suggested and spent an almost regular night at home. I
made a few calls, putting friends off when they suggested social
get-togethers, paid bills and cleaned the house in between cooking a frozen
dinner for myself.
    I did laundry too, carefully folding the only underwear I was permitted
to wear. The pile of clean white underwear sat alone in the drawer that
used to hold all kinds of colored shorts. It seemed like months ago, but
only days had passed. Looking at the underwear in the drawer, I found
myself touching my cock. I liked wearing them under Master's orders!
   When it came to to eat, I walked over to the table and paused. Then I
sat on the floor next to the table and ate my dinner naked. I was still a
slave boi, even with Master in his own home next door.
    Afterwards I went to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet
(obeying one of Master's rules) and pissed, realizing that much of it was
in fact Master's piss that I had recycled.
     I made the required call to Master's cell phone and said the ritual
words to him: "'Master, may I take the man-plug out of my sissy bitch whore
ass please?" Before he gave his permission, he told me to write another
Rule to my list. From now on, when I shaved my pits and my crotch, I was to
swallow those hair stubs as a reminder of how low I was compared to real
men. I remembered the first time Master had shaved me and made me swallow
all of that longer, curly hair. The little pieces I would be shaving would
be minimal compared to the bunch I had managed to chew and swallow
then. Still, as he intended, it would be a reminder of my submissive slave
position.
     I bent over and pulled the plug out in one swift movement as ordered.
I sat on the bowl and emptied myself as much as possible, followed by a
thorough cleaning. Remember I had been a cum and piss dump much of the day!
     I douched, filling my innards so much that I almost cramped up, yet
even that pain made me erect!
     In the end though, I had cleaned out my insides good, scrubbed my skin
in the shower and shaved, eating the pubes that had grown since the day
before.
     When I lay down in bed I was about as good as new.
     I grabbed my written list of rules and reviewed them, though I had
them more or less memorized at that point. At the bottom I had added the
new pubes rule.

     Rule #1: No talking unless Master asks a question.
     Rule #2: Master controls his slave's physical appearance. This
includes not using any deodorant or other scented products. Keep legs
shaved. No showering until he so orders.
     Rule #3: Slave will piss kneeling down, and will always put the seat
up and sit on the bowl itself when shitting. Report to Master anytime
slave's balls hit the toilet water.
     Rule#4: Slave is not allowed to cum unless he has specific approval
from Master.
     Rule #5 I would wear the metal butt plug to work each day, calling
Master for permission to remove it each night, saying: "'Master, may I take
the man-plug out of my sissy bitch whore ass please?"
    Rule #6 I would eat the stubble hairs I shaved from my underarms and
crotch each day as a reminder of my status as a bitch slave boi, unworthy
of even body hair.

     I slept well, an obedient slave bitch, ready to do his Masters'
bidding. I didn't know then how much that would be tested the very next
day.

[As always, i welcome comments. This story is approved for submission to
Nifty by my Online Master, but any mistakes that make it into Nifty are my
fault completely. bamaboi2serve@charter.net.]