Date: Wed, 12 Jul 2006 18:09:05 -0700
From: bamaboi2serve@charter.net
Subject: Remote Control Slave, Part SIX

     It was late! All of the shaving and discipline had used up so much
time that i wondered what kind of shopping Piss-Master had in mind.
    He handed me the next size up in butt plugs, which i inserted. We had
reached a width now that i had to work at getting it in. He stood there
watching, not offering anything other than a contemptuous gaze. Finally it
seated itself in my ass, hitting by prostate almost immediately.
    "Put these on and stand in the tub, slut." He handed me a pair of white
bikini type underwear. They were too small for me, but i struggled into
them. When i finished, he pulled out his cock and pissed on them, and me,
soaking them yellow.
    "OK slut-girl, now put these clothes on!" came his next order. Out of
his bottomless canvas bag came a pair of very short bright white nylon
shorts, and an almost matching tank top that had been roughly cut off so it
ended just at my nipples. Across the front, emblazoned in hot pink, were
too words: Too Hot" i put the clothes on, trying to keep my piss-stained
underwear from showing under the flimsy shorts. There was also the matter
of my erection. The abuse he was showing me was a tremendous turn-on and i
had not been allowed to cum all day.
      Also in the bag was a pair of flip-flops, in pink, of course, with
bright yellow flowers on them.
      i still had my dog collar on, and a quick sideways glance into the
bathroom mirror confirmed my fears. i may as well have had the words
"faggot slut" stamped on the shirt. Looking at my rear, i could just make
out the bright pink end of the butt plug showing through the bikini
underwear. My body shave left me looking like, well a cheap flat-chested
hooker. Again, i found myself blushing, perhaps because of the knowledge
that i would soon be leaving the relative safety of my apartment in this
outfit.
    Piss-Master slipped his leash on to the ring in my collar, grabbed his
keys and my wallet, and pulled me to the door.
    My apartment was on the first floor, so we were able to leave the
building through the lobby without running into a single neighbor. It was
almost 9:00pm on a weeknight, and the streets were quiet, but in the
parking lot a young boy looked my way and wolf-whistled...Piss-master still
was holding the leash, so i can only imagine what he thought he was seeing
in the darkened lot. Maybe his hormones made my flat chest look developed,
or maybe he was gay. Again, i was blushing terribly and sweating...i had
not been allowed to put on deodorant and the body shave had taken away the
hair that might absorb some of the sweat. Add the Piss-Master's piss and i
stank. Where were we going, i wondered?
    We approached an old green panel van and Piss-Master opened the rear
doors, indicating i should get in. i clamored aboard, and he followed,
pulling the doors closed behind him. Inside, he grabbed my cock through the
shorts and fondled it, heaping on the verbal abuse...
   "Hey little whore boy-girl...what's this I feel? Can't be a cock cause
only real men have those...you got a really big clit? Is that it? Did you
stuff some socks down there to show off?"
    i kept silent, sitting on the exposed metal bottom of the van, now
really hard and leaking. A wet spot appeared dead center on the black
shorts. No one would doubt what that was all about.
    He climbed between the front seats, told me to hold on, and pulled out
onto the highway. The floor of the van was fitly, and i was getting grease
and pieces of sawdust on my slutwear. Great, i thought, i'll be a dirty
whore.
    There were no windows in the sides of the van, and i was busy trying
not to fall on my face as he rushed through the streets, quickly taking
curves left and right.
    After fifteen minutes or so bright light showed through the windshield
and i saw a sign with those All-American words: Save-Mart. He pulled the
van up mercifully close to the store, which i knew was open till
Midnight. It must have been close to eleven.
   Piss-Master turned around in his seat: "OK, gender-fuck, here's your
shopping list: get yourself some girly underwear, in your size. If you come
back and they aren't girly enough I swear I'll send you back in without the
shorts on. Now get that ass in there...the night's not over yet!"
   i didn't bother arguing, and got out of the van trying to pull the
shorts and cut -off shirt up and down to cover as much of my bare skin as
possible.
   The trip into the store consisted of me walking and every clerk and
shopper within five aisles staring at me. In San Francisco, or New York, i
might have gotten away with this look without too much attention, but here
in the South i was an instant celebrity. Several shoppers took photos with
their camera phones, trying to be discrete about it but being obvious
anyway.
  i swished and sweated and blushed my way to the women's section, keeping
my eyes on the tile floor, glancing up enough only to get to the counter
where saw the underwear. i pawed through the packages, but couldn't find
anything that appeared to be big enough. i'm not at all fat, but i am a
guy. i needed the plus-size, big-girl selection.
  "Can I help you sweetie?"
  Naturally, the question came from the only cute clerk in the store, a 20
year old manager-type attracted by the customer's murmurs about me. i
looked up, and recognized him as a former classmate. i was about to die.
   "Uh, hi Brian. i need some large, um, panties," i offered.
   "Large? How large?" he asked, twisting the knife.
   "Well, she's, uh, she's a big girl, kinda...well...she..."
   "Is she about your size?"
   Again, that blushing! "Yes."
    Brian reached out and took me by the hand and pulled be toward the back
the department..."Come on, let's go over here..."
    We walked through a door marked "Private", then into a shipping and
receiving area that was empty that late at night.
    "Try `em on," he said, handing me a package of hot pink lace
panties...I know it's against policy, but we'll make an exceptions since I
know you, slut."
    His words stung, since we had been casual friends in school, and even
shared a room once on a school trip.
    i pulled down the shorts and was about to put on the panties when he
stopped me: "lose the dirty whites, whore-boy."
    i removed the piss-stained bikini whites, exposing my completely shaved
crotch to Brian, and slid the new pink panties up in place.
     He reached across to adjust them, his hand rubbing up against my belly
area in the process: "Oops, looks like I got my hand dirty, cocksucker,
you'd better lick it clean. He held out his hand, which i automatically
started licking...was i incapable of saying no to an order?
   Brian pushed me to my knees as licked his hand, making sure to suck on
each of his fingers...the other hand followed, and then Brian opened his
pants and pulled out his cock.
    "Do you know what this is, boy?"
    "Yes, Sir."
    "Tell me!"
    "It's a cock, Sir"
    "Do you have one?"
    "No, sir"
    "What do you have?"
    "i have a penis, Sir."
    "Let me see it."
    i reached down and pulled my parts out over the top of the new panties,
wondering that he used the same line of reasoning that Piss-Master did,
having me call it "my penis".
     "Pretty miserable excuse for a cock...take mine, take the real cock in
this room in your mouth and play with your little penis thing."
     i did as told, not sucking or anything, just keeping is semi-hard cock
in my mouth. After a moment, my mouth was watering and my own little penis
was stiff as i jerked off.
    Suddenly Brian started peeing, and it was obvious he had been holding
it for a while. His piss had that strong flavor that comes from sitting in
the body for a while. Nonetheless i gulped it gratefully; glad to be used,
turned on by the continued humiliation of the evening. When he was almost
done, he pulled out, saving his last spurt to spray the new panties.
   As he zipped up, he told me to put the white bikini back on, to put the
new pink panties over them, and then the white shorts.
  "Time to go, fag-slut, I'll see that you get a supply of nice girly
panties delivered. You can pay me later on your knees, since that seems to
be where you are most comfortable..."
   He led me to the door and we left the stockroom. It was a very long walk
to the front door, with more camera phone clicking and whispering. i think
i saw two women who used to be friends of my parents.
   Outside, Piss-Master was waiting in the van.
   "Took you long enough! Where are the panties?"
   i explained about Brian and lowered the shorts to show him the pair i
was wearing.
  "Well get used to them, you'll be wearing that pair till your friend gets
around to sending you some more!"
      Suddenly i realized that Brian didn't have my address! How would he
send me the panties? Before i could panic or say anything, i got my answer
as we pulled out of the parking lot. Brian walked out the front door and
waved to Piss-Master, who waved back, friends it would seem, and
co-conspirators in my evening's debasement. Brian knew where i lived, and
probably a lot more.

Bamaboi2serve@charter.net