Date: Sun, 21 Jan 2007 23:15:35 -0800
From: bamaboi2serve@charter.net
Subject: Masterman, Part THREE

     I woke up several hours later...there was no clock visible in Paul's
bedroom but it was still dark. I guessed it was the middle of the night. He
was lying on his side, and my left hand was trapped under him. Unlike the
"Coyote Ugly" joke, I was perfectly willing to leave my hand there all
night, but I did have to piss.
     Looking around, I spotted one of the items he had pulled out of his
canvas toy bag...a red rubber enema bag with hose attached. "Any port in a
storm," I murmured...I pulled it over, unscrewed the hose and inserted the
head of my soft cock into the bag entrance. I pissed for what seemed like a
long time, half-filling the rubber bag as it lie on the bed next to
me. Carefully I screwed the cap on and lifted the hose onto my chest to
keep the pee from flowing out.
     I was also thirsty, but the only thing within reach was the beer I had
been drinking...and warm beer isn't my favorite liquid. But like Paul next
to me, I was well trained by Masterman to serve as his urinal, so without
hesitation, I lifted the end of the hose to my mouth and started drinking
my own warm piss.
     The motion or the smell apparently woke Paul up, and as he rolled over
I was able to recover my arm. He quickly realized what I was doing and
reached over to take the hose into his own mouth. I held the bag up above
us, and soon we were alternating back and forth, sharing my piss until
there was nothing left, also enjoying the bit that splashed on us in
between gulps!
     We kissed deeply. I was hard from the piss play and was getting harder
still. Paul reached for some lube and slowly worked his half-hard cock into
my very willing ass. Again, I was discovering that Paul had apparently
developed some very "top" habits since his time as a slave. Once he was
inside, instead of fucking, he stayed still. Then I felt him squirting into
me, filling me with his warm piss just as I had filled his enema bag.
     When he finished peeing, he started fucking in earnest, developing a
speed that caused all of the piss to swish around inside me, some of it
leaking out when his cock pulled back a touch too far before thrusting back
into me.
     I pulled myself up onto my knees, and offered my ass to him
doggie-style. He may have been a bottom, but at that particular moment,
with him in me and the piss and all, he was in charge, slapping my ass,
torturing my tits, showing off his dominance in multiple ways...then he
blasted his bottom-boi cum deep into me, and without even touching myself,
I shot onto the sheets below me simultaneously.
     I held my position for a moment, trying to catch my breath. Then Paul
used a phrase I hadn't heard since my time as Masterman's boi: "You don't
think you're going to leave that mess on my sheets, do you?" I was still
facing the headboard, so he didn't see my look of recognition, but I
scooted back obediently and licked up my own cum, leaving the sheet wet
with my saliva.
     He pulled out of me and we collapsed as daylight started peering
through the windows. For a moment he looked as if he was going to kick me
out of my own bed, to make me sleep on the hardwood floor, but eventually
he rolled over and put an arm around me.
     We slept for a half-dozen hours, and I woke to the smell of fresh
coffee.

----------------------------------------


     "Good Morning Master," I said lightly to Paul as I walked naked, my
morning wood pointing the way into my kitchen. I had borrowed an old black
leather dog collar from his toy bag and put it on. Somehow it seemed right.
     He smiled back: "Hey slave-boi...didn't get enough last night?" he
asked, gesturing to my hard-on.
     "Never enough," I responded, grabbing a chair and pouring myself a cup
of coffee. I noticed that Paul had taken charge here too, going through my
kitchen cabinets and finding the coffee making materials. I glanced at my
pile of bills and other papers on the table, and it appeared they had been
inspected.
      I dismissed the thought. I was feeling great. It had been a wonderful
night of sex, the Masterman-connection somehow making us a great sex couple
despite our dual-sub natures.
      He walked over to his magic bag and pulled out some items, handing
two to me. One was a pair of hot pink frilly girl's panties. The other a
black butt plug. I knew immediately what they were and was not surprised to
look up to see him holding identical items, then bending over to work his
plug into his ass.
      It had been a ritual for me with Masterman, and apparently for Paul
as well. The plug was to keep me open and available during the day. The
panties were to keep me humble when I answered his door to greet a guest or
accept a package. Masterman had sat and observed me putting the plug in and
the panties on every morning of my service to Him.
     Paul handed me some lube and I inserted my own plug, no easy
task...Masterman had intentionally selected a trailer-hitch sized one for
us. Both of us then put on our panties, yet another tie-in from out
shared-slavehood under Masterman.
     Then we sat at the table and I started telling him how I had met the
Master, almost a year to the day ago.
     I had been invited to a party by a guy I'd tricked with a month
earlier...he was a hot Daddy-type and said there would be more like him
attending.
    I cleaned up inside and out and got dressed in my best slut-slave gear,
arriving with the party in full swing in the small house the host
rented. He introduced me as "Dave", the name I used in the bars, and soon I
was flirting with a few hot men, sharing a joint with them on the back
porch, and then floating back into the kitchen. A half-dozen of them were
playing poker, and I was urged to join in as a new hand was about to be
dealt.
    I know little or nothing about poker, just the basics, but I didn't
want to seem like a wuss so I agreed to play, only half listening as the
top dog at the table explained the rules and the betting. It was clear from
the first hand that I was lost, and within a few hands I was out of cash
and ready to walk away. That's when he walked into the kitchen and into my
life.
    Masterman was an artist's conception of what a leather stud should look
like...not the old 60's concept, with a bulging dick way too big to be real
and breasts like a woman...here was a modern clean-cut man of action. Six
foot two, about 190 pounds, almost ever bit of it toned muscle, jet black
hair he kept short, and a three or four day growth of beard that set off
his nicely defined features. He was wearing tight black jeans, a plain
white sleeveless Tee, a plain leather vest and engineer's boots. I could
see he kept his chest hair trimmed.
      A simple black collar and leash were sticking out of his pocket, the
end attached to a loop in his jeans. He was smoking a thick cigar.
     He immediately caught my eye, glancing up and down, giving me a fast
and apparently appreciative cruise. One of the other players had had too
much to drink, and the table agreed to let the new stranger (new to me
anyway) take over his hand. Masterman (he was introduced as "Ace") sat down
and proceeded to clean everyone's clock. But when I was about to be forced
out, he grabbed a fist-full of bills and tossed them in front of me.
    "That's a loan slut," he told me, "and if you lose it you'll pay me
back in personal service."
     I could only guess what "personal service" was, but he was so hot I
was ready to lose intentionally just to find out! I almost never get hard
just looking at someone, but "Ace" was the exception. Yum!
    I didn`t have to try very hard to continue my losing streak, and when I
was out, he took me to the side and explained: "Personal Service" meant I
was going home with him, and his rules applied.
    He picked up his winnings, attached the collar around my neck, and
pulled me by leash through the crowd, but instead of heading to the street,
he led me to the bathroom.
   "Up boy!" he ordered, urging me into the claw-foot bathtub.
   "Down boy!" came a second order, and I lay in the tub looking up as he
unzipped and proceeded to mark me as his own for the first time. Apparently
he wasn't the jealous type, because he left the door open and allowed half
of the party guests to join him at tub-side, soaking me inside and out with
their beer-fueled piss.
   After a while he tired of that and gave me another order: "Kneel!"  I
did, and immediately had my mouth stuffed with his soft, fat cock. He
grabbed my head with both hands and forced me back and forth, using me like
a sex-toy for his pleasure. He got larger and larger and he kept the
pressure up so I was filled with more cock with every thrust.
    The other party boys were watching with envy. A couple of them were
still pissing, wetting down my leather clad legs and ass even more. The
stopper had been put in the drain and I was soon kneeling in several inches
of piss.
    My jaw was hurting from the constant cocksucking, but "Ace" wasn't
slowing down any...in fact he increased the speed to the point that I could
almost feel my eyeballs rattling around my head as he slammed his rod deep
into my mouth over and over.
     Finally I felt him tense up a bit and he forced the cock all the way
in, deep beyond my throat opening, as he blasted his cum into my gut.
    Some of the others were ready to take a turn, but Ace sensed I wasn't
up for any more immediate action, or maybe he wasn't ready to share his new
slave yet, but lifting me by the leash, he pulled me out of my piss-bath
and led me outside, dripping all over the floor as I went.
     From his back pocket, He grabbed a piece of cloth and fashioned a
blindfold. Next I knew we were in a truck roaring down the
Interstate. There was no talk about my own car...parked back the
party...nor was there any permission asked. He had "won" me in the poker
game and was now taking possession.

--------------------

     Paul recognized his own experience in my story, and asked just a few
questions along the way. I had only just started to tell him about my
months as a slut-slave-boi, leading up to my "escape", when I was
distracted. Underneath the table, he had started using his foot to massage
my naked crotch. The plug and the embarrassment of wearing the panties
already had me elongated and fattening...his foot action quickly converted
that into a raging hard-on!
     I was ready for a break, ready to see how long Paul would keep up his
dominant personality. Maybe the humiliating panties and plug would restore
his slave-nature.
     I got out of the chair, down on the floor, and started licking his
bare feet...he inserted toes, one, two and three or more at a time into my
willing mouth. As I gave him the footbath, I felt a belt striking my back
and ass...over and over, harder and harder, the slapping sound that any of
my neighbors would surely recognize immediately for what they were...the
blows were raining down on me hard enough that I was in real agony. I put
my hands behind me to block them.
     So much for his slave side!
     Paul grabbed my hands and handcuffed them in front of me, using cuffs
from that endless canvas bag. He pushed my panties off, clearing the way
for him to continue reddening my cheeks. If I had any doubt about what Paul
learned about being a Master it was gone now. He was in charge, and I was a
willing slave boi for him. He paused for a moment to pull off his own
panties, stuffing them in the crotch of my matching pair.
     My ass was bright red and I was in great pain, but I continued licking
his feet as best I could. A kitchen towel became a blindfold. Then came the
leash. He put a ball-gag in my mouth and tied the strap tightly behind my
head.
    I was dragged into my bathroom, but instead of the tub, Paul positioned
me on the toilet and pissed on my chest, letting it run down to soak my
cock and balls on the way to the bowl. Before he finished, he roughly
pulled my mouth forward and aimed the rest alongside the gag, filling my
mouth and making me swallow constantly to get it into my stomach. Some
splashed onto the floor, and Paul manhandled me into position to clean it
up, taking out the ball gag to allow me to do it with my tongue, of course.
     When I was finished, he inserted a penis-shaped gag in my mouth.
    Then it was shower time. I had installed tie-down bolts in the ceiling
above my shower/tub, and he tied my cuffs to one of them.
     He started applying thick pasty substance to my body. From the smell I
knew is was a Nair-like product that was going to remove my hair...the
Masterman ordered orange colored hair around my cock and the black hair
everywhere else.
     It was a Masterman-like event, and I started to mumble my objection
around the penis gag, knowing it wouldn't make any difference. Paul had
taken over, and I was there to comply, not to get in the way.
     Remembering what Masterman had done to me in a similar scene, I
started wondering how far Paul would go...how far he had gone with
Masterman. But for the moment all I could do is remain on display in the
shower, waiting as my hair was chemically removed. He had piled on the goop
everywhere there was hair, and he started using a razor to hurry the
process, stripping my legs of their signs of sexual maturity, then twisting
me around, working on my ass. I could feel his gloved hands pulling my cock
and balls this way and that, making sure to get every single hair.
     I was still blindfolded and gagged, but I suddenly could smell a cigar
being smoked, and recognized it as the brand Masterman smoked. "Paul
certainly had gone to some extreme to work out this scene," I thought, "why
there was even a slight scent of the baby powder Masterman sometimes used
on me!" Then I remembered that we were in my apartment, and that Paul
couldn't have known he was going to meet a fellow Masterman boi. Could he?
Was he so Masterman-brainwashed he was driven to repeat the details of his
scenes with the big guy?
     Then came the revelation.
    "Hi slut. Did you miss me?"
    There was no mistaking that rumbling voice. Somehow, Masterman was
there in the bathroom! In an instant, the details came rushing back to
me. Months ago, fucking pitiful little slave cunt me had looked Masterman
in the eye, said "no", had refused him and run off in the middle of the
night.
     Now, with Paul's assistance, Masterman had me again.
     I was truly fucked.

---------------
To be continued...

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