Date: Sat, 3 Feb 2007 11:00:26 -0800
From: bamaboi2serve@charter.net
Subject: Masterman, Part FIVE

Masterman, Part FIVE -"The Finale"

Bamaboi2serve@charter.net

     Masterman left the room and I dozed off for a while, waking in time to
feel him removing my gag/catheter and untying my bonds. The only item left
on me was a chrome tripple cock-ring that pushed my balls out for
examination and kept my seemingly always hard cock pointed upward.
     I stretched my legs and arms, and since no one seemed to be ordering
me around, I swung my legs off the side of the table, resting them lightly
on the cold tile floor. My mouth tasted like the urinal it had been used
for. Without any hair absorbing it, drops of sweat trailed down from my
underarms, activating the dried accumulation of human and dog markings on
me. The odor came at my nose in waves, and still I was hard!
    Masterman had taken a seat on a stool in a dark corner, and he spoke to
me without raising his voice. Still, I could sense the anger.
     "I really hadn't asked very much of you as a slave, you know. And
mostly you were obedient. We had some good times, at least I know I
did...and they could have continued, Do you remember what I asked of you
that you refused? The little thing I wanted that caused you to bolt like
the scared punk bitch you are?"
     "You..," I started, realizing it hurt to talk because I had been
gagged so long. "You wanted to mark me with more than just your piss," I
said, "You wanted to mark my skin. But I didn't want to go around with a
permanent reminder of my lowly slave slut status. I had to run, Sir, I had
no real choice!" I was in tears at this point, calling him "Sir" our of
habit, knowing that he had now had his way, marking me as a hairless punk
forever.
    Masterman came over to me and put his arm around my very smooth
shoulders. "It's OK to cry little cunt boy, nobody's going to laugh at
you...not too much anyway." I was beginning to really cry.
     "We've really been working on those little pig-boi tits of yours", he
said, grabbing them with both hands for a twist. A few hours of pumping for
a month...why the bitch dogs in the neighborhood are jealous!" Through the
pain, I saw they were extraordinary tits, long and flopping, pierced but
empty of jewelry at the moment. "You won't need to wear very much clothing
from now on, but for those times when I do take you somewhere, I adapted
some of the shirts and jackets you left behind..." He held up a favorite
jean jacket of mine. Holes had been ripped to allow my tits to poke
through. A tailor had sewn a nice little seam around the holes, using
bright yellow thread for emphasis, as if anyone could miss my new piggy
tits!
     "There's more, you know, slut. Bitch, get in here," he shouted.
     On cue, Paul entered the room, naked except for a dirty brown leather
slave collar and a bright pink jock-strap. He was holding a small mirror
with a handle. It was also bright pink. A little girls' make-believe makeup
mirror. He wouldn't look me in the eye, although there was no prohibition
on him looking at another slave. Paul knew he had betrayed me and wouldn`t
meet my glance.
     Masterman had written the words "Girlie-Boi" on Paul's chest,
apparently with the same bright red lipstick that had been put on his lips.
    "Paul here is an example of a good slave. He doesn't run away, and so
he has only temporary markings on him...come here slut," he called the boy
over. Paul walked to Masterman's side as the big man grabbed his tits, much
smaller than my beast-like protuberances, and twisted. Then He aimed his
cock at Paul's legs and wet him down, the aroma of his pee filling the
room. "A good slave!"
     Masterman gestured to Paul, indicating he should go to my side, and he
did, holding out the make-up mirror for me.
     "The hair elimination was just a bonus for you bitch. And you should
be happy! You'll never have to get another haircut or buy shampoo or look
for a comb! But your real reward is over there!" Masterman gestured over to
a side wall just as a curtain parted to reveal an oversized large
full-length mirror. A spotlight came on, isolating me on the table in a
pool of light in the otherwise dark room.
     The mirror was far enough away that my image looked like a baby mole
sitting in the dark, pale and slave-like. But what did he mean a "bonus"?
They were both watching me, like scientists observing a lab rat ...waiting
for me to do...something. To figure something out. Suddenly I remembered
the mirror I was holding. I turned my body around on the platform and
lifted the mirror up, adjusting it so I could see my back reflected in the
mirrors.
     On my pale white hairless skin , in jet-black four-inch tall, extra
thick and bold tattoo letters was written sideways "Masterman's Punk
Bitch". The letters covered my entire back, from my waistline to my
neckline. It was like a billboard. You could read it from a half-block
away.
     Now I was truly in shock. I had refused a relatively small two inch
tattoo in a place where it would almost never be seen, and now I was marked
so boldly, so irrevocably, that I would never be seen as anything but the
fuck-toy slut slave boi I had become.
     Masterman and Paul came and carried me off the platform over to
another corner, placing me in a leather sling suspended from the ceiling. I
didn't bother to struggle...what difference would it make at this point?
     The sling was lit by a single spotlight, and I could see my own
reflection between my legs in the big mirror on the other side of the
room. They secured my arms and legs, and used leather belts to pull my legs
apart just above the knees, leaving my ass open and completely
vulnerable. A long penis gag was inserted in my mouth and strapped
tight. It was a mechanical device, and as soon as He pushed a button, the
cock started elongating into my mouth like a perverted telescope, reaching
far enough to activate my gag response. Then it backed off to the original
position, and the thrusting was repeated. A padded leather blindfold
blocked my vision.
     Someone attached very tight clamps to my floppy tits and I could feel
them being stretched upward. I couldn't see it, but they were attached by
chain to a pulley in the ceiling, and the other end of the chain was
attached to my triple cock ring. Any movement of my cock pulled my tits.
     Masterman snapped a finger and suddenly someone was licking my hole,
probing with his tongue. In no time I was hard, especially listening to
Masterman's monologue: "You've been on your own too long, slut. You hole's
all closed up! I'll bet you haven't even been wearing your butt plugs, have
you?"
     I didn't answer, not only because I was being mouth fucked by the gag,
but also from having nothing to say. He was right. I had been fucked since
leaving Masterman, but not by anyone nearly as big. My hole was out of
shape for what I knew was coming.
     "Little Paul-slut there is going to get you good and wet, then he's
going to get you ready for me by sticking his puny little tool in a few
times. Then I'm going to reclaim my property for real!"
     As he spoke, Paul ended his licking, which even under the
circumstances felt very, very good. Then he stood between my wide-spread
legs and quickly rammed his cock into me. I'd had Paul in me before, but it
was so abrupt it shocked me. For a moment I thought perhaps Masterman
himself had decided to fuck me first...but after a few strokes I knew it
was not The Master. Paul performed his duty...a half dozen in and out
strokes to warm me up, and then he pulled out and walked away.
     Even before the tip of Masterman's huge torpedo touched my hole, I
could feel the heat of his body near me. That, the faint cigar and
baby-powder scent, and the anticipation, all combined to keep me as hard as
I had ever been, dripping pre-cum, and yet fearful. Could I take him again?
Masterman didn't look that big soft, but once he was hard, he was
unique...huge in girth and length...a true monster of a fucking tool unlike
any I had ever experienced before meeting him. He had the kind of cock
people writing porn always describe, knowing it was an
impossibility. Masterman's was real.
     He held the tip against my opening for a moment, causing me to
shiver. "How had he gotten so hard so quickly?" I wondered. He played with
me, pushing briefly and then stopping, pushing a tiny bit, and pulling
back...I found myself trying to swing the sling to meet him, to impale
myself on his giant cock, fearing it but needing it too. Each motion of the
swing pulled on my piggy-tits, adding another sensation.
     Then, suddenly, he held onto my hips and pulled me onto him in a
single tearing motion...he went from touching my hole gently to fully
inserted in two seconds. I was so shocked that I was totally quiet
initially, then the room was filled with a moan that started deep inside me
and, gag or no gag, burst from me. I broke out in a cold sweat and
Masterman stood there with his fucktool buried deep in me. Amazingly,
through it all, I never lost my own hard-on!
     After a minute of not moving, Masterman started his fucking plunges,
slow at first...almost all the way out and then back in, like a locomotive
engine, slow consistent strokes that increased bit by bit. There was no
music on in the room, so I could actually hear him slamming into me, and it
set up a rhythm that was musical in a twisted sort of way, the jangling of
the tit clamps adding to the performance. My mind wandered. It was a way, I
think, to deal with the agony my ass was being put through...I remembered
the first time he had fucked me, how he had eventually trained me to sit on
him without complaint...how much a part of me his cock had become during my
time of service to him. He had been right...I was out of shape...but I was
remembering pretty quickly ...and his tool re-learned the contours of my
insides too.
     His speed increased more quickly now...slam...slam...slam over and
over, the entire sling shook with the fury as he lunged into me in a cycle
that finally achieved his goal...he was pulling all the way out of me and
plunging back in so quickly that my hole didn't have time to close...over
and over again he lunged, keeping up the fucking that I now knew I could
never again live without. There was no warning for me when I suddenly shot
a huge load onto my chest and face...it just happened...and then Mastserman
pulled out and jerked out his own essence onto me, splashing onto my chest
and shooting far enough to l eave a glob on my nose and my lips. My hole
stayed open...I could feel the air from his jerking motions on the puffy
skin around my hole, which was in no hurry to close back up.
     Masterman had me again, and this time I was publicly marked as his
property forever.
      Before He and Paul left, Masterman told me about the special ink the
tattoo specialists had used...oblivious to laser removal...truly a forever
marking. And he said he had been tempted to have them put the same on my
chest...but he wanted me to make that choice myself.
     He told me later he was so pleased when the tattoo artists had
completed the project on my back that he let the "artists" have their way
with me and with Paul for an hour, and that he himself fucked Paul four
times that night, leaving an extra large plug in his ass for good measure.
     He explained that Paul had done as told, had found me and helped
return me, and so he wasn't going to send the sex pictures of Paul
pleasuring the dogs to Paul's little brother. But he wanted me to know that
didn't mean Paul was something special! He was a fuck toy, like the other
one, me, now sobbing in the sling.
     I slept soundly because I had given up. I was where I belonged, in His
sling with His cum dripping off my sides, my hole still open and ready to
accept Him whenever he wanted.
     I was his now for as long as he wanted me, marked as such and unable
to re-enter the gay mainstream. Even if I found another Master, he would
reject me because of the huge markings on my skin. I was Masterman's from
then on.


Postscript

     I eventually did have the other tattoo added to my chest, in bright
red ink. But by that time I was mentally a changed boi. I accepted my slave
nature completely, my Master did to me whatever he wanted, and that
included numerous piercing and other body modifications.  Eventually my
tits reached two inches, stretched onto my chest by heavy silver rings. The
extra tattoo on my chest was a minor detail that I asked for as a birthday
present. Masterman's birthday present to me.
     He was so pleased he had me fucked by a dozen of his Master friends
and then tied upside down from a tree in the backyard so the cum could leak
from my ass onto my head. It was a punishment he had inflicted before. He
liked to watch from the back deck as my canine masters, led by Rex, licked
the slime off my nose and ears, jumping in the air for a chance at my cock.

The end.
Hope you liked!
Bamaboi2serve@charter.net