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His Name Was Jamie Part 2
I stood outside the gym entrance as instructed and waited for Master to finish his shower and come out, both frightened and more excited than I'd ever been. As I said, I'm no slouch and have good looking guys approach me often enough, but this was altogether different. Master wasn't just in a different league physically (I mean, you would be hard pressed to find another guy within a hundred miles in his league, or that's how I felt and still feel), he had the unmistakable air of dominance that had always attracted me in real men. I wandered idly what his life must be like. People, men and women, old and young, must all be in awe of him whether they'd admit it or not. I imagined that he must breeze through life getting whatever he wanted. A thought then leapt into my mind and I panicked, I still owed him for looking at him in the gym. Normally a demand like that from a stranger would seem ridiculous, but with Master it didn't feel like a joke, it felt serious and it felt right. I did owe him. Thinking fast I glanced around and saw an ATM. I rushed over, my heart beating fast in my ears. Hands shaking a little I fumbled with my wallet for my debit card and inserted it. The options came up, cash only, then the amount. I paused. How much? Could I put a price on a God like Master? Of course not, how could I? I quickly pressed the maximum withdrawal, still sure that it wasn't enough, but what did I know? The machine rattled and purred and seem to take an age to work. My hand was poised to collect the card and cash, glancing back at the door for Master. The cash finally slipped into my hand as I saw Master exit the door. My heart leapt, this hadn't been a mistake. The afternoon sunlight hit his perfect features, his broad, chiseled torso and thick biceps stretching out his t-shirt, his powerful legs appearing from his shorts and into his sneakers. I must have spaced out for a moment admiring him again, he seemed to have that effect of clearing my mind of all thoughts but him, because the next thing I knew he was approaching.
"Good faggot." He said, gesturing at the cash in my hand. "Now beg to hand it over."
"Er, please Sir, please would you take. ..." I stammered a little as I said this, feeling again like that weedy kid in highschool that I'd been before starting to work out. I hadn't felt that in so long but it came rushing back in front of Master.
"Bitches beg on their knees, cunt. Get down, now." A slight smile played on his lips as he said this, but as before I knew this wasn't a joke. I battled with myself for just a moment but it was inevitable which side would win (or rather that Master would win), and I found myself kneeling down onto the concrete ground. I looked up, Master looked satisfied, a look I would come to crave.
"Good cunt. Now try again, faggot." He said, his eyes on mine, his look burning into me.
"Please Master, please accept this pathetic offering to your greatness Sir." I don't know where the words had come from but they felt right.
"Well, since I'm feeling generous I'll accept your apology this time, but if you keep fucking up then your faggot ass is gone, got it shithead?" I felt gratitude well up as he said this, and with my rock hard dick now dripping precum like and old restroom faucet I handed the cash to Master and said "Thank you Master, thank you so much."
He smiled briefly, taking the notes and pocketing them, then he looked sternly at me again. "Don't get used to it, cuntboy. Faggots like you make me sick.Your only purpose is to be used, abused, and pay your dues to your betters, you're less than the scum on the bottom of my sneakers." And with that he lifted his right foot to near where my face was. "In fact, let's demonstrate that now. Kiss the dirt on my sneakers".
By that point I was lost to him. Without a care for where I was or who might see I lent forward and kissed the dirty sole of his sneaker. I heard him laugh above me.
"Hahaha, man, you really are a pathetic piece of shit, aren't you faggot?"
I could only agree, "Yes Master, I'm a pathetic piece of shit."
He pulled his foot away. "Ok then faggot, I'm still hungry. Bring that cashpussy you call a wallet and buy me lunch." And with that he began to walk away, leaving me breathless on my knees. Gathering myself together as best I could I got up and hurriedly followed after him.
********* Master choose a good, modern bistro a block from the gym. I was breathless by the time I caught up to him. He, of course, continued to ignore me until we got to the place.
Taking our seats he took a menu, glanced it over before gesturing to a waiter to take his order. I sat in silence, knowing somehow already I wasn't here too talk, I wasn't here to eat, I was here to listen, obey and pay.
The waiter left. "Ok faggot, I'll explain how this is gonna work. It's fitting that you knelt for me by the ATM, because that's your new role in life. An ATM, a cashpussy, for me to use when, where and how I want. If you work hard and please me then I might let you worship this perfect body you've been drooling over like the dumb faggot you are." He wasn't quiet as he said this, he of course had nothing to feel ashamed about, but I could feel my face flush red as I saw the guy on the next table glance over at me and smirk. Master continued regardless.
"Now, I know this is what you want, this is what you are. As I said, alphas like me can sniff a faggot out anywhere. But, to seal it, to accept this very generous offer I'm making simply kiss my fist and say, loudly and clearly, "Yes Master, I would like to be your cashpussy."
As I'd sat there listening to him speak I could feel his alpha energy infect me. What he was saying was daunting, but I knew I had to do this, that I'd probably never get the chance to serve a man as strong and dominant as him again, and the thought of my lips making contact with his bare skin had me insane with desire. Master had presented his fist across the table and, as I had done with his sneakers, I gently kissed it.
"Yes Master, I would like to be your cashpussy." I heard a grunt of laughter from the next table, that guy had clearly be listening. I didn't care though, I was now, officially, Master Jamie's slave.
"Good faggot. Now sit there like a good girl while I eat."
The food came and went, and I payed the bill in a haze. My attention was so focused now on Master that my surroundings were left a blur. Before I knew it we were exiting the bistro.
"Ok faggot. I can't spend all day on your sorry ass. Give me your number, I'll call when I want something." A wave of disappointment swept through me. The thought of him leaving felt awful, but I knew he was right. He must have a full life, and I'm a pretty insignificant part of it. Hiding my disappointment as well as I could I recited my number, which Master typed into his phone. Then, as before, he turned and left without a word. Well, I guess people don't usually say goodbye to ATMs, do they. A little despondent but still exhilarated I made my way back to my car alone.
Four long, constantly horny and anxious days passed. I must have checked my phone twenty times an hour, and every message alert brought first excitement and then disappointment when I found it was just a buddy, or a colleague, or family. No one else seemed to matter to me and the thought that Master had already forgotten about me was too much. I went to the gym every day, sometimes twice in the hopes of seeing him but left disappointed every time. It was hell.
Finally, at the end of the fourth day, just as I'd hung up from ordering a take out my phone pinged with a message from an unknown number. Of course, I thought, I didn't have his number. It was an address about five miles away and the instruction "Wanna chance of sniffing my pits before I take a shower? Make sure you show how fucking grateful you are, cashpussy. 30mins or don't bother."
Fuck. Did this mean what I thought it meant? I boned up in a second and completely forgot about the take out I'd ordered. Grabbing my wallet, keys and a jacket I pretty much ran out of my apartment. Ok, so I'll need to make a stop at an ATM. I'd been keeping cash on hand since the day at the gym but I knew that what Master was offering, the chance to get close to his body, sweaty and pumped from the gym, I couldn't risk disappointing him again. 30 minutes should be long enough if I hurry and am lucky with stop lights.
Fortunately the mission went as planned an I was at the twenty-five minute mark as I found the address in the text and pulled up. It was a smart, modern looking apartment block in a trendy part of town. A lot of well off college age kids lived around there and that made sense. I'd considered a place here myself when I came to town, where every third guy you see is a hot jock. None would compare to Master of course.
Arriving at the door I found the buzzer for Masters apartment and pressed. A few moments passed, then heard the click of the other end of the line opening. "Yeah?" It was Masters voice, I felt a tingle.
Hoping to impress him I said. "Your cashpussy is here Master".
"Ok." He said. "Come in crawling with your wallet in your mouth, pussy. That's how I want you to approach me. Got it, cunt?" And with that the door buzzed open and the line went dead. Master clearly wasn't expecting, or caring about any objections I might have had. He was right, too. The prospect of debasing myself like that for him was thrilling. To approach him like that, crawling like a dog to present my wallet to his perfect feet felt so good, so natural.
I caught the door and entered, then with my wallet in my mouth I got onto all fours. I glanced up at the apartment numbers. Master's must be on the next floor. As quickly as I could in this awkward way I made my way to the staircase, thinking that would be faster than the elevator. Luckily the block wasn't large, just three apartments per floor so it was only a minute or two before I arrived at the right door. It stood ajar so I took this as a sign to enter. I pushed the door open with my head and went inside the darkened hallway.
"In here, pussy." I heard Master call. His voice had come from a half open door at the end of the hall. I crawled towards it, my heart in my mouth as well as wallet. I entered and was met by the sight of Master sprawled casually on a large couch across the room. He was shirtless in a pair of short blue gym shorts that showed off his thick, defined thighs. Veins traced like roots along his forearms and across his huge, granite hard biceps. His chest rose and fell and his chest and abs caught the light like rolling hills from the late sun. His white socked feet where sprawled near his discarded sneakers. It was like a renaissance painting come to life in a downtown apartment.
I could smell his alpha sweat as it permeated the room, that musky yet sweet smell that only real men have and which, in the nose of a faggot like me is a drug. I was so filled with desire my dick was almost bursting.
Without looking at me he said. "Bring it here then, shithead. Let's see how desperate you are for a taste of alpha sweat. I'd better be pleased, or I might just decide to beat the shit out of you instead."
Gulping and nervous as hell but more aroused than I have ever been I approached on my hands and knees and, with care and reverence, I dropped the wallet at his feet. I knew, instinctively, to beg. "Please Master, accept this pathetic offering from your cashpussy ATM."
After pausing for a moment or two to consider he reached down and picked up the wallet, making sure to wipe the saliva that was still on it from my mouth off onto my hair. He wordlessly opened it and inspected the contents. Time stretched as I awaited his verdict, the only sounds were my breathing and the soft flick-flick-flick of notes being counted.
"Better than last time, faggot. Maybe you're not such a dipshit after all. Nah, you're still a fucking dumb ATM, haha. Now tell me, dickbreath, you been thinking about me the past few days?" He said finally, emptying the wallet and putting it on the table.
"Yes Master, I have," I said with relief at still being in his presence. The smell of his sweat was hypnotic. This was a man, a real man, and it was natural that how he smelt would make a faggot weak and I didn't want to leave it.
"Haha, I bet you have. Thinking about this body, huh shithead?" He flexed his biceps, either of which was as big as my head, exposing his armpits. I licked my lips instinctively. He must have noticed.
"Yeah, I bet you want to sniff these pits, huh faggot. Cunts like you love to get in close and worship these pits. It's fucking disgusting, but then I wouldn't know what a superior man would smell like because I've never met one, but you piece of shit beta bitches fucking love it. Say it, faggot. Say you want to worship these pits." He had a look of contempt on his handsome young face as he watched me, on my hands and knees begging to worship.
"Please Master, please allow this lowly faggot pussy to sniff and worship your amazing armpits and lick the sweat Master." I wasn't thinking about what I was saying, it all just poured out. This young God had turned me into a mindless junkie for his sweat, his body, his abuse. I was so desperate I would have said or done anything to get my face into his deep, ripe pit.
Master chuckled at the display. "Nah, dipshit. You haven't quite earned that yet. You gotta start low. See that sneaker? The one I've been wearing to workout for weeks? Man, that thing is stinky as fuck. Bet that's a fucking buffet for a piece of shit like you, right faggot?"
I looked at the sneaker. "Yes Master." I murmered back. The sneaker wasn't the same as the one I'd kissed. I guess those had been his street shoes and had looked quite new. These had seen a lot more use. They'd once been white, but now had tinges of grey and brown that seemed infused into them, where the sweat from Masters workouts had soaked in. The inside was worse, and I could see the shiny patches of wear where the heel and ball of his foot had pressed through hours of exertion.
"Then that's where you'll start, cunt. Show me how much of a pathetic, perverted little shit for brains cash maggot you are by getting on your belly and making out with your Gods sneaker. Lick it, kiss it, sniff it, make fucking love to it, show me how you'd worship my pits shithead." He didn't wait for me to move before shoving me to the floor with his foot. "Get to it dickbreath. When I give and order you fucking jump, got it?" He slammed his foot on my head and my chin hit the ground. Quickly I finished positioning myself, pronate with my face at his dirty sneaker.
I wasted no time. Began kissing the dirty sneaker, pressing my nose against it as I did, breathing in the smell. It was strong and sharp and seemed to hit my blood like nicotine. I admit that in college I would occasionally steal my roommates sneakers and sniff them, sometimes beating off, but it was nothing like this. I rubbed my lips and tongue all over it, lingering at the toe to suck it, pushing my nose inside, kissing the sole when Master's heel would go and breathing in the full extent of it.
"That's right, bitch boy. That's your new boyfriend, shitface. You two gonna start dating haha!" Master was clearly enjoying the show so I doubled up, moaning and murmuring "I love you's" to the sneaker.
"Man, what a fucking joke you are, pussy. Working out and buying nice clothes like you're a man but here you are, on your belly like a worm, making out with a dirty old sneaker. This is why cunts like you need to hand your dirty fagcash to real men like me. You're clearly fucking defective. Man, I bet your almost creaming your pants. That right, faggot? Your nub about to leak in your panties?" His foot tapped me in the head a few times.
"Yes Master." I could only tell the truth. The stink of his shoe, the friction of my crotch on the floor, and most of all his words were sending waves of humiliating pleasure through me.
"Tell you what, faggot. If you can go one minute without spilling that fagslime you get to sniff my pit. If not you gotta fuck off until I call you again. Got it?" He had picked up his phone and quickly started the timer.
"Keep going faggot." He said, "and I'll give you some encouragement."
With that he leant down and put his head close to mine.
"Listen up faggot. This is just the start of what I'm going to do to you, what you are going to do FOR me. This is where you belong, shithead, and don't forget it. You are a pussy, a bitch, a cunt boy, a loser and most of all a pathetic, crawling cashpussy" and with that he hawked up a huge was of spit an lobbed it into my face. The feeling of that big, wet mess hitting my face, but more what it meant sent me over the edge as humiliating pleasure coursed through me and, shaking and whimpering my dick started to spew a similar mess in my pants. I dropped, defeat, my face against his sneaker, still breathing him in.
"Aw, looks like the little faggot has to wait. Better get home before the come dries, faggot. You know the way out." With that he kicked me so that I rolled away from him. I looked up, still dazed and shaken from the experience. I was, I don't know what I was. I was disappointed, but it was just a dull echo in the general noise of exhilaration. I picked up my now empty wallet from the table and said "thank you Master." Then, with a last glance at his perfect body I left, pulling the front door shut behind me.
If any cashfags are interested in serving Master Jamie he can be contacted on fagdrainerjamie@gmail.com. Bring your wallet.