Marked by Mark -- Part 3 bamaboi2serve@charter.net
[Readers: I am sorry to report that the online Master who warned me about typos and mistakes in Part 1 has discovered a big one in Part 2. I skipped an entire narrative day, going from the Saturday evening arrival of the new Master to a Monday (holiday) morning breakfast serving. "Where was Sunday?" he demanded to know. As punishment he has ordered me to shave an "x" in the hair on the right leg. It's hot here in the South now, and I wear shorts almost all the time, so the mark will be visible everywhere. How will I explain if someone asks? I must be more careful. Sorry, Sir. Now, Part 3]
After Master left, I started writing down the rules he'd given me so far, and it was a growing list!
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.
Master has also told me to keep a list of rules violations.I wasn't sure how specific to be. I decided to write down anything I did that Master corrected:
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I looked up at Master without permission.
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I didn't reply to a question loudly enough when Master asked me a question.
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I didn't remove my jock strap and collar after having been told about Rule # 2.
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At breakfast, I failed to have cheese for Master's eggs.
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Overall it seemed I was doing pretty well being an obedient slave, but I also knew it was way early in our relationship.
Writing about the cheese reminded me that I still had the half block up my ass. I'd become somewhat accustomed to it, buw now I could feel it inside me.
In the bathroom I lifted the seat and sat on the cold ceramic toilet bowl, obeying Rule #3.
It was not as easy as you might expect to expel the cheese, and I worried for a moment that I was going to need help! Eventually it emerged, however, and I found myself blushing, even though I was alone in the house. I certainly had learned my lesson and would always have cheese on hand for Master. My balls stayed above the water level, though I could see where that would be a problem at some point.
Banned from the shower without permission, I used a washcloth to wet my legs down and then rubbed shaving oil and cream onto them, I took a razor and used broad strokes to strip the hairs off both legs from my thighs down to the ankles. I had enough hair on the legs to clog the razor repeatedly. What did it feel like? Fuck, I was boned the whole time, and dripping too. I suspected that was going to be a regular state for me, not being permitted to cum. How long could I go without shooting anyway? Once I had gone two weeks as an experiment and I only barely made it.
I was also hard as I shaved because I knew I was doing it for Master, that it was a command I was following...and it was also exciting because I knew I would have to explain it to somebody at some point. It was Summertime, and wearing shorts was the norm.
The shower looked awfully inviting, but I was under his command not to shower unless he ordered it. Maybe he would let me take one before I returned to the office!
I used a towel to remove as much of the oil and shaving cream as possible. I used a wet washcloth to rinse off my body, figuring that wasn't a violation of the no-shower rule.
Glancing at myself in the full-length mirror I realized I looked...kinda girlish. It was obvious from my slight beard growth that I wasn't naturally smooth, so anyone seeing me would know I had shaved my legs. Despite that—hell, because of it!---I put on shorts and a tank top. I knew that's what Master would want. What was the point in shaving if I didn't expose that fact to the world? The tank would show the little hair I had on my chest and the dark bunches in my pits, in sharp contrast to my bare legs. I was also trying to come up with an excuse. Competitive swimming? Lost bet?
I made a quick run to a small nearby hardware store to have a house key made for Master. Naturally, I ran into an old friend in the store who glanced down at my newly shaved legs, but didn't ask any questions. I knew him well enough to ask if he could help me find some pot, and he jotted down a name and phone number. As we were talking I noticed two teens boys at the counter behind him pointing toward my legs and laughing. I could just barely hear the word "fag" as one of them moved his hand back and forth at his mouth in a cocksucking motion. My friend left and soon the clerk had my key ready for me. I paid and left.
Outside in the parking lot the boys continued mocking me, emboldened a bit by my obvious blushing embarrassment.
"Hey girl! You want some of this?" one of them yelled to me, holding his crotch obscenely. Damn me...even being verbally abused I couldn't help but notice the boy was cute. Kinda emo with several piercings...I turned to get into my car when a panel van pulled up beside me and I heard someone calling out.
It was Master!
"Hey bitch," he greeted me, "good to see you followed the shaving orders. You look much more like the sissy slave you are!" I blushed and glanced over my shoulder. The two boys were watching the scene unfold, but I was pretty sure they hadn't heard what Master said.
Master reached out from the van to my neck: New Rule, boi, Number Five. Unless I say otherwise, you wear this 24/7 to let everyone know you are owned." He attached a brown leather dog collar to my neck. Master got out of the van and ordered me to stay where I was, then walked over to the two bois and started talking with them! I glanced around, concerned that someone would see me with the collar on. Soon Master and the teens were laughing! Master was befriending them! Next thing I knew all three were headed over to to where I was standing.
"Slut, these bois need to get off and they don't have a hot pussy to fuck. They think you'll do. Get in the van and make them feel good!" I started to object but one look from my new Master and I shut up, going to the back of the van and climbing inside. The bois lowered their board shorts and briefs and plopped down in the two captain's chairs in the rear, their long (and hairy!) legs stretched across the van floor. Master closed the doors and waited outside.
"Nice collar bitch! OK slut, get to work!" one of the bois told me, pointing to his quickly hardening cock. I got on my knees and quickly swallowed most of the first bois cock. The kid put both of his hands on the back of my head and guided me back and forth, up and down, controlling the pace of the blowjob I was providing.
"Oh she's good! Looks like she was born to be on her knees!" he told his friend. "Go deep faggot, take all that meat!" he commanded. He wasn't as big as Master, but still a good size, and every three or four thrusts he would push enough for his prick to go deep into my throat. He took one hand off my head and used it to tweek my tits hard, alternating from one to the other. Each squeese sent an electric-like jolt to my prick.
Like most bois his age, it didn't take long. "Oh fuck...fuck yea..oh..."In minutes he was shooting in my mouth, rope after rope of teen boi cum filling me up. His friend had been playing with himself as he watched me "work", joning in the verbal abuse: "Hey sissy, does that taste good? How come you're not wearing pink shorts? Don't your little titties need to be pierced like all good fags?" He grabbed me by my new collar and puled me across the van into position at his feet. He wasted no time sticking his tool in.
"Take it bitch, your boss man pimp said you were a natural! You do feel like a pussy!"
He pumped and pumped and it took him even less time than his friend to cum. Perhaps he was inspired by witnessing my previous performance.
This boi was a good two inches longer than his friend, and just as he started shooting he grabbed my head and forced his cock all the way in, depositing his seed on a quick and very direct trip to my stomach. I gagged as he pulled his rigid dripping cock out.
Through all of this I was (of course!) in my now-usual state: rock hard and dripping. A wet spot had formed at my crotch and the bois pointed to it, mocking me as they pulled their shorts back up and climbed out of Master's van.
I watched, shocked, as they each handed Master a five dollar bill, shared a "high-five" and went to their car.
"Good work slut," Mater told me, "now that we know you're a working girl, I expect you to get better at following orders. I'll be over this afternoon at 5:00. Have dinner ready. Steak. Move!"
I was horrified! Master had sold me like a cheap hooker on some street corner. My hair was messed up from the boys hands directing my actions. My knees were sore and dirty from the uncarpeted van bottom, and there was the remnant of one boi's cum on my face. The first boi had ripped my tank top as he worked my tits over, and it was easy to see they were red and swolen. On top of that, I was now wearing a leather dog collar. I had to admit as I got into my car to drive home, I did look like a whore. And yet I was still hard. All of this for a man I didn't even know a week before! I drove home to make dinner for my Master.
[Thank you, readers, for the continued comments. I am trying to make each part better than the one before...and suggestions are, as always, welcome. bamaboi2serve@charter.net]