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Two weeks had gone by since Mike was taken away to his new life, as a slave in South Africa. Two weeks that allowed me to consider my position, when I walked into that office on the Monday I thought it was as a temporary employee, a way of earning some money that would enable me to survive whilst still going out and getting my fill of hot dick.
But here I was a permanent slave. I and my fellow slaves knew that Mike's fate meant that we were indispensable. As a result we were all doing our best to ensure that Master's orders were obeyed to the syllable. Each of us continued to live in our own homes in the, but were constantly monitoring our text messages to check on our orders for the day.
There were days when not all the slaves were in the office, being out serving clients. Master had made it clear that I was still a trainee, so thus far any clients I had served had been at time when they had visited the office. It's interesting to consider that after twenty plus years of sucking cock, and always being complimented by my skills. I was as far as the Master was concerned back at the stage where I was considered a novice , and expected to learn the art from scratch. I was expected to suck Master off twice a day, morning before breakfast, and just before lunch .
Each session was followed by a critique, I was too fast, too slow, too much teeth, too much or not enough drool, too eager, lacked enthusiasm. I was told I had to manage my gag reflex, too much wasn't acceptable, too little took away the Masters enjoyment of the thought he was destroying a slave's throat.
Every afternoon I was expected to demonstrate my skills on whoever was visiting Master be it for a high powered business meeting, or a social call. Master would check regularly that I was providing sufficient satisfaction. and if there was any doubt that I wasn't he would remind me of Mike's fate.
It was essential he said that I was able to submit to all types of dick, twelve inch monsters, those with the girth of a beer and even tiny stumpy ones. Cut, uncut ,tight foreskins, loose floppy ones, even unclean ones covered in smegma. My role was to submit and worship, and leave the client satisfied.
This morning Master announced via text that he thought that I had demonstrated that I could now be safely trusted to suck cock without supervision of course he would when required call on me to show my appreciation and suck him off. Reading this was a sense of relief, the fact that he appreciated my skills of being a cocksucker was a morale boost.
As well as proving that I had the makings of a good slave in the office, Master's control was also firmly established in my non office hours, On that first Friday evening ,, I received a text, I was to find a jock strap, nut it on and send him a photo.
I rummaged through my drawers, and found a yellow one with a thick waistband, I slipped it on, and sent Master a photo.
Ok Paul, other than when you are showering or shitting that stays on. Otherwise it won't come off until I tell you. You'll wear it to the gym, in bed, at work , and most importantly when missing. It's going to smell of sweat, and piss. Take it off when shitting but make sure it's on hand to catch your piss. If you need to piss at night you will do so in bed. I'll be expecting photographic proof that the mattress will be sodden , just like it was when you were a child and used to wet the bed. No need to worry about having to find a bathroom when out, just relax and empty that bladder. Those jogging pants better still be filthy as that's going to be your work uniform for a while and grey does a good job of showing up pissed.
Understand
Yes Master I responded.
Today marked ten days of sleeping in a piss soaked bed for ten days, the jockstrap was constantly wet ,and I felt like a pig. My commute had become increasingly uncomfortable, I felt everyone was looking at me in disgust when on the tube to and from work, and it was a relief to reach the office and wait for my throat to be abused.
Worse, the man I'd seen on my second morning, was on the tube each day, I could see him staring at me looking at me in disgust. I tried to avoid his gaze instead concentrating on his legs, trying to work out the shape of that large dick covered by his trousers. Last Friday after seven nights of sleeping in piss, I found myself standing right next to him. He looked at me intently, throughout the ten minute journey, as I began to move so I could change trains at Kennington he barred my way.
Oink Oink, I like a good pig. Are you a good pig?
Oink Yes Sir, I responded, I had no idea where that came from, I realised that i was now submissive both in and out of work. Great, I look forward to having you in my sty, then he said as he moved to allow me to pass.
I'd planned to stay indoors all weekend, I didn't want to bump into anyone I knew in my piss soaked state but on Saturday morning Master sent me a text.
Drink, five pints of water, and leave the house. Walk , I don't care where, but you will walk until I next message you. Twenty minutes into my walk Master sent a Text:
Has a piss yet? No Master I'm disappointed, Next coffee shop you pass, go in get a double espresso.
Fifteen minutes later So? Not yet Master Get another double espresso
I obeyed, I felt the eyes of the coffee shop were on me, or rather on my piss stained trousers.
Five minutes later I began to want to piss, in my head I tried to work out if going down a busy road would be better than a side street. Before I could decide, my bladder opened. First the sensation as my chastity cage began to fill up, followed by the repulsion as it began to seep out first into my jockstrap, and then down my leg. My grey jogging pants betrayed the "accident" I just had.
ANY NEWS? Yes Master, I'm soaked through About time? Where are you? Send me a screenshot. I was between Camberwell and Peckham an area that I was unfamiliar with Good going. Turn North towards Rotherhithe but Stop in the nearest shop, buy the largest bottle of water, and drink it, then get yourself a large black coffee.
I knew I had no choice but to follow orders,I downed a litre of water, and then looked for the quietest coffee shop. I had somehow ended up in a part of town where the chain coffee shops had not yet reached. I spotted a greasy spoon, outside there were two builders, their clothing stained with cement dust and paint, I thought that I'd be less conspicuous there.
Inside half a dozen builders sat eating their fry up, I ordered my coffee , and quickly downed it, and left.
I felt the urge to piss again, I turned down into an alley, and let myself go.
Oi Steve, I suddenly heard a voice shout, come and look at this. What now mate. ? Stop asking questions, and come and look at the state of this.
I stood there panic stricken as the piss flowed down my leg, Steve and his mate approached.
Steve grabbed me by my arms bound by his. His mate put his face against mine, his finger against his lips to indicate I was to be silent.
Hello little pig. I spent ten quid in one of those gay piss clubs last night, if I'd known that I could just as easily get my fix By coming to work 'd have saved my money.
He lowered his work trousers, took out his dick, pointed it at me and pissed, legs were sodden. As he shook off the last drops and put his dick away, I could sense that the back of my jogging pants were being lowered, and suddenly a stream of water hit my buttocks it was Steve's turn to have a piss.
It was over in a flash, his grip relaxed.
Thanks for that mate, it's not often we get a pisspig round here, well not so obvious one.
As they left the alley I received a message from Master.
How's the pissing? Good Sir Are you wet? Very Sir. How was I to explain what had just happened, was it permissible, would I get into trouble for not asking Masters permission.. In which case head home.
I pissed another two times before I got home. Every breath I took filled my nostrils with a smell of ammonia. It was a relief to be home.
Which brings us back to this morning, I woke dreading the thought of yet again getting on the tube.
I managed to just get on to a carriage, my mind wondering what my third week of working for Master would bring. Hello Little Piggy I heard a voice.
It was him, Kennington could not come soon enough.