Marked by Mark - Part Four bamaboi2serve@charter.net
[Online Master, who has ordered me to call him Master D, was pleased with the last part, but he ordered me to shave an "X" in my other leg hair anyway, just for practice. I'm not sure that's fair, but I did it, of course. Bb2s]
When I got home from the hardware store a neighbor from across the street waved, but looked at me strangely. That's not surprising, after all I was a mess and wearing a dog collar. I just waved back and went inside.
I stripped, did a quick combing of my hair and wiped my face and knees with the wet cloth. I looked hungrily at the shower but let it go. I kept the dog collar on, of course, in obedience to Master's new rule.
I had steaks already defrosted, and I took them out, putting two potatoes in the oven to bake. Corn on the cob and some dinner rolls completed the menu. I set places at the table, turned on the grill, and waited for just before 5:00 to put the steaks on.
I put the punishment log and the list of rules on the table next to the plate I had set for Master.
The spare key I had made for him was still in my shorts pocket, so I left the door unlocked and knelt near the entryway where I could keep an eye on the grill and the front door. At five p-m sharp the door opened and Master came in with another man!
"Get the fuck up and keep an eye on those steaks cunt...one medium and another medium-rare. Move!" he ordered. I jumped to it, being careful not to look at Master or the stranger. I flipped the steaks, glanced in the oven at the potatoes and turned the corn to simmer as the two men sat at the places I had set at the table. I had been thinking I would use one of those settings...what would have happened if I had set just one?
When the steaks were ready, I made plates and carried them over to the table. "He gets the rare one," Master informed me, pointing to the handsome clean-shaven man who had come in with him. His name to you is Sir, bitch," he told me as I put the plates down."For tonight I'm just plain Master. You know your place cunt!. Make Sir feel at home!" he ordered me. I crawled under the table and positioned myself at the stranger's crotch. His pants were zippered shut.
"Use your tongue shitface," he told me, and I started licking the area of his crotch, pressing hard till I could feel his fleshy tube through the tight black jeans he was wearing. It quickly started inflating as the jeans started to get wet from my saliva.
"He's got potential, this fucker," I heard Master say, "but I suspect he's really not tough enough for my tastes. He did pretty well serving these two punks bois in the van...the ones I told you about earlier...but we'll have to see how he handles what I have I mind down the line. Look at this list of rules I've established for him...and his pitiful list of fuck ups."
"Not nearly enough rules, I'd say...you need to keep the bitch boi in line with lots of laws and regulations. That's how they're most at home! Don't let him make any decision for himself, he'd probably fuck 'em up!" suggested Sir.
I was working on Sir's crotch for all it was worth, but I understood the warning from Master. I had to toughen up. Suddenly, Sir stood up, turned his chair so the its tall back was now leaning against the edge of the table, and ordered me to get behind him. As I climbed up from under the table, Sir undid his pants and pulled them down a bit from his waist to his thighs, exposing his ass. Then he sat down facing the table, his ass on the very on the edge of the chair, sticking out. He continued eating, his arms strattling the chair back.
"Keep licking cunt...use that worthless slave tongue to make me feel good!"
I crouched down as low as I could and started working on his hairy hole, licking in broad up and down strokes, and then using the tip of my tongue to push into him. Through it all, Sir and Master continued their conversation as if having someone orally service your ass was an every meal event! Sir frequently repositioned himself on the chair, allowing me more access. It wasn't long before my tongue was actually entering him, probing his ass like a small snake, and I could really taste all of his body. It wasn't my favorite sexual activity, but I was determined to be tough enough, so I didn't let the acrid taste and odor deter me. My face was quickly smeared with my own saliva and Sir's ass juices.
As they were finishing their meal, Sir raised up and forced his balls underneath him so they were hanging there for me to feast on...and I did, licking them hungrily. I could tell I was keeping him hard.
Abruptly Sir stood up and lifted his pants back yo to his waist. "Where's the bathroom, I gotta piss?" he asked Master.
How much was I getting into all this? So much that my mouth was open and waiting before Master said the first word! "No need to leave for that, he loves being a real man's toilet, don't you bitch?"
"Yes, Master," I replied and repositioned myself to take Sir's piss. Perhaps he wasn't quite used to using a slave like that. It took Sir a moment or two to get the flow going. But once it did it was full force. I was barely able to keep up, and again, some overflowed my mouth, down my chest and onto the floor. As soon as Sir had finished, he bent down close to my face and spit on me. I flinched from surprise, but remained in place as he repeated it several times, till my face was streaked with his mucus, When he had finished, I bent down automatically and licked the piss drops off the wood floor.
"Bitch, get over here and bend over!" Master ordered. He had pulled a chair to the middle of the den and sat down. He was pointing to his lap, holding a foot long black wood paddle. I awkwardly climbed onto his legs, using my hands to keep myself balanced and in place. My stiff tool and swollen balls hung down between his legs, pointing toward the floor.
"Sluts like him actually enjoy a good paddling, be careful not to turn him on too much!" Sir suggested helpfully as Master started using the paddle on my upturned ass. His blows were relatively soft at first, and he alternated from one cheek to the next, then started striking my upper legs too. Even the soft strikes hurt! I responded with an "Ow!" to each strike, and I could feel my cheeks warming up as he increased the speed and power behind every blow. I guess I was getting too loud for them because Sir came over and inserted a leather penis gag in my mouth, tightening it around the back of my head with the strap. Then the punishment continued. Over and over he paddled, eventually I could feel heat rising from my ass and I knew the cheeks had to be bright red. Even more embarrassing, I mumbled my pain from behind the penis gag that filled my mouth.
I started crying like a little boy.
At one point Sir reached between Master's legs and grabbed my cock, pulling it aside so he could use his other hand to slap my balls several times.
When Master had had enough, he pulled me up off his lap, attached his leash to my collar, and led me to the front door. Without a word, he opened the door, turned me so my red ass was facing the street and ordered me to put my hands behind my neck. It was early evening, but traffic was light because of the holiday. I could hear a lawn mower operating somewhere on the street and I prayed none of my neighbors would stroll by. If they did, they would see me posing naked, my red ass lit by the outside lights on either side of the door that had come on by timer.
At least my tear-stained face and gagged mouth was faving inward. Despite, or because of all this, I managed to maintain an erection, which Sir found laughable.
"Look at the little-boi cock! He's like some twelve year old trying to jerk off or something! But how come he's got real man-hair?"
"That's my next step in making him into the slave-boi he needs to be. Starting tonight he goes into shave mode. Here, let me show you!"
Master went to the bathroom and returned with my cordless electric razor that buzzed when he turned it on. I could imagine the sound attracting the attention of anyone nearby. My face was as red as my ass as I worried and was turned on at the same time by the potential of being exposed to my neighbors as the slut slave I was.
With some fast passes, Master used the razor to strip the hair from around my erect cock. Then he handed it to Sir who used it to remove the dark tangled hairs from my pits. I noticed that Master was catching the public hair in his hand!
Just as I heard a group of people walking on the sidewalk across the street. Master pulled me into the hallway and closed the door.
"Rule Number Two amended: no hair on the boi from the neck down. Just to help you remember that rule..." he removed my gag..."open you mouth,,," I did as told, and Master put the tufts of my own clipped pubic hair in my mouth. He replaced the gag: "Now no swallowing! Keep that man hair in your mouth, get the fuck into the bathroom and use a blade razor the get rid of the stubble. Hurry up, don't keep us waiting!"
I rushed into my bathroom and grabbed shaving gear. Watching my image in the big mirror, I removed the stubble from my pits and around my cock. I did the best I could to remove the hair from my ass crack, though I couldn't reach it all. With the shower off limits, I wiped off the best I could with a washcloth.
All the while I was struggling with the hair filling my mouth behind the gag. It's not easy to keep hair in your mouth, especially gagged! I'm sure some of it slipped down my throat and I felt some stuck in between my teeth.
When I had finished shaving, I glanced at my image. I was still gagged with a mouth full o my own pubes and was wearing the dog collar, leash attached. My newly shaved body looked like...well, there was little doubt what I looked like. I looked like the slave I had wanted to become. I had dreamed about this, and now it was happening.
Was I still hard? Was I ever NOT hard? My entire life was changing, but my cock still ruled my actions.
Before I left the bathroom I knelt at the toilet and tried to piss, having to wait till my hard-on softened enough. As I watched my piss hit the water, I knew that some of what I was emptying out of my body was the piss I had taken from Sir and Master. That thought started inflating my cock again, and I finished pissing just in time before the angle would have made it impossible to finish. My bare knees hurt from kneeling on the hard bathroom tile.
I walked back into the den. Master was sitting on the couch. Sir was sitting in a chair with a leather bag of some kind sitting on a table. The contents of the bag had been spread out on the table. There were needles. And bottles of colored liquid.
"Now that's more like a slut slave! Hair is for real men, boi! Swallow that man hair in your mouth and come on over bitch, your Master has decided to let you wear his mark."
In a trance, I walked over to Sir's side, trying hard to swallow the pubes that hadn't already slid down my throat, knowing now that the reason Sir was here tonight was to put Master Mark's mark on me. He was a tattooist.
[Thank you to the reders who've taken the time to drop me a line! Hope you continue to enjoy the story! More to come in Part Five, as boi is literally "marked by mark". bamaboi2serve@charter.net]