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Two Men Are Hard To Please: One Slave Tries To Please.
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. This story tells of the time that was my life.
I have been hard wired to serve. This is what I wanted. My ambition was to be the best I could be and gain recognition from my Master. I lived for praise and the Master's happiness. I knew it would be hard. I went into this with my eyes wide open. I guess I didn't think that it would be this hard.
I have spoken to other subs from various combinations of servitude. I have known guys who will serve one man for life or many men for small periods of time. I have met guys who serve along side another sub for the good of one Master. I decided I wanted to gain entry to the topside of service. When I realised that I could serve two men, I jumped at the chance and having met them and spent a few weeks with them, was collared within a month. They were a couple that had been together for a few years. Married in all sense of the word, down to the wedding band each man wore on his finger. They loved each other greatly but they had frictions for both wanted to be the racehorse in life and that is why they decided that it was time to get a slave. People meet in all walks of life, sometimes these relationships last seconds, others tend to last for the rest of their lives. This is my story. Life is in the details not in the processors. All I will say is that I met them and fitted into their lives and it felt like it was meant to be.
My days often started in the same way. The light was turned on from the switch outside the room and I had a few seconds to pull myself out of sleep and crawl out from under my blankets and kneel before the door. I kept my head down and my eyes closed, not out of respect but because sleep would still have a hold over me. One of my Masters would enter the room and stand directly in front of me. I would relax under his hand, which he placed, on my crown and lean my weight onto him. Both my Masters were the same. They would let me just be for a few moments, a slave, and accept where I was. I would lean into them and smell the man in front of me. I would be calm for the morning and just enjoy being in his presence. His hand would move down to my collar and rotate it so the D ring would be in line with my spine and the leather would rub at my neck. I may feel a slight pull and the coolness of a slack metal chain, as he would clip the chain to my collar. The slack would lift and become taught and I would crawl in the direction of the chain and be behind my Master. I would be taken into the kitchen and the chain would be clipped to the counter top and I would set about making breakfast. Their breakfast would not change much so no orders would be given. I would prepare make toast and pour milk over cereal. I had to make sure all things would come together on time, so the coffee was 97'c hot, the toast was warm to melt butter and the cereal cold to condense the vapour in the air. It was to be served in silence and my Masters would talk over breakfast while knelt between them eyes focused on the table. One Master would be dressed in a suit, the shirt ironed the day before and the trousers pressed after he took them off. His shoes were cleaned at the end of each day and everything was ready and set out for him the night before, ready for him in the morning. My other Master would sit in his dressing gown. He worked from home and I spent the majority of my time with him. When my suited Master would stand and leave for work I would not see him until the evening. My day with work-from-home-Master would begin. He spent longer on breakfast and I would have to endure the hard tiles that I knelt against. I would fidget slowly putting weight on one knee and then the other. At all times my eyes would focus on the oak table in front of me. When work-from-home-Master had finished breakfast he would make my breakfast for me. He would place on the floor in front of me a glass of water and a vitamin pill that I would swallow together. When the glass was empty he would replace the glass with a bowl of meal, a bland breakfast, a sort of cold porridge of thin consistency. I ate this on my hands and knees and when I was done and there was nothing left I would sit on my hunches and the bowl would be removed.
After breakfast the chain would be unclipped from the counter and I would be lead upstairs. The bath was always full of water and dying soapsuds. It had lost most of its warmth. I was to piss in the bath and relieve my bladder and get into the bath. My work-from-home-Master would also piss into the bath and I was to wash myself in this heavily diluted piss, or contaminated bath water. Whatever way you look at it, it was not there to make me feel clean. I was not allowed towels. I would palm off the water with my hands as best I could and then let the heat from the house pull what was left from my body. When I had pulled the plug on the bath, I was to clean it so my work-from-home-Master could have a clean shower. When he was showered I would dry him and he would lead me to his closet where I would help him dress. In the mornings I was not to speak unless I was spoken to, thus some mornings I would not speak for hours. Some days, my work-from-home-Master would decide to ask me my opinion on what he should wear that day. I'm not quite sure weather it was because he wanted my opinion or weather he decided that he wanted to break the silence of the atmosphere that my servitude created. When I first spoke my voice often sounded harsh, I tended to choose things that were casual, trousers that had a long fly and shirts that I could unbutton with ease. My choice was not based on taste as it would have been before I entered servitude but on practicality. I chose garments that I could remove easily for at any moment I may have to get to his sex organs and I can not predict what level of restraint I may be in which may mean that my hands are redundant. I chose things that I could take off with my teeth.
I did not dress, whist in the house I was to remain naked at all times and only be clothed when and in what one of my Master's put me in. Around 9.30 my work-from-home-Master would go to the house's office. Some days I would have a series of chores to do. Work-from-home-Master would give me a time space to do the chore in and the time would vary on the level of restraint I was in; a twenty-minute job could last an hour and a half if I could only move my hands three inches apart. If I failed to complete the task in time I would be punished. These rules were always upheld. There was a clear structure. If I fell outside the structures I would be punished. It was a simple system that I thrived under.
My life was not all about chores however. Some times my work-from-home-Master would make things more interesting. If he were having a hard day, I would know about it. He was very inventive and would come up with new games that I would have to play. I would not have a choice in weather I would play or not, I was to play them and hope that I would win as best I could. Bare in mind however that with these games, more often then not, they were designed so that I would loose. My work-from-home-Master had much more of a sadistic mind then my city-working-Master. One game I remember was the phone ringing game. I sat on a chair with a plug buried in my ass. The plug was connected to a tens machine. My Master would control the tens machine. Master relied on most of his business coming in via the telephone. While he was on the phone the tens machine would be off. As soon as he would hang up he would move his hand from the telephone receiver and onto the power button. He would hold down the button and the flow of electricity would flow into my ass. All I could do is to endure and hope that he would get another phone call. These games tended to have a time frame. I knew that I would have to endure until someone would call or when the time was up. If he had a bad day, then I would have a bad day. The phone game had variations. If he gained pleasure from a phone call, then so would I. A remote control vibrator in my ass would be turned on while he was on the phone. When he was off the phone the vibrator was off. His win could equally turn into my loss however. A good day for him could climax with my climax. It would be without permission and I would face a punishment. Sadist Masters tend to be inventive with punishments. Following one time when I came without permission I spent the rest of the day knowing the time of day. A bucket would be tied to my balls and each time I counted sixty seconds I would put a ball bearing into the bucket. Every fifteen minutes I would say the time. I could not see a clock. When I had calculated that it was five o'clock and therefore the end of his working day I would state that that was so. For every minute over that time I would get one grade of beating, be it with a cane, paddle or whip. For every minute under that time I would have to add another five ball bearings to the bucket until 5o'clock. Either way, the punishment was hard.
5 o'clock may have been the end of my work-from-home-Master but not for me. I would have one hour of free time where I could relax and prepare for my city Master to come home at 6pm. My day with him would start. He would come home and I was to wait for him at the front door. I never felt comfortable for anyone looking inside the house from the street would see me kneeling there. Master would approach me and stop only when his crotch had made contact with my face. His crotch was always warm from his day at work and commute out of the city. His crotch would smell of his musk and it always made me hard, no matter what sort of day work-from-home-Master had put me through. City Master would unzip his trousers and take off his belt and allow his trousers to drop. His briefs would often have a moist spot where his cock was leaking and his briefs would follow his trousers. His cock would harden quickly and his balls would be pulled up with his cock before swinging down as the sweat, which stuck them, fell away. I would open my mouth and his cock would slide into place. His foreskin would slide over his cock head, lubed with precum. I can always taste the remnants of piss that were not shaken away earlier in the day. I would suck but he would trust hard. He would grip my hair to steady my head and he would fuck my mouth. He would sometimes continue and grunt only when he came in my mouth, other times he would take his time before taking me into the living room and fucking me over the arm of the sofa. It was my responsibility to grab lube and condoms before being manipulated into position. If he needed to fuck me, he would not waste too much time to lube me up before penetrating my hole. My work-from-home-Master would be excited by his partner's dominance and would often join him. He would muffle any complaints I involuntarily made by shoving his cock into my mouth. I would try and accommodate them while they made love either side of me. They would often make out at their head level, but fuck me hard at thrusting level. I was there to be a receptacle for their pleasure and I took pleasure in that.
A pair of heavy balls would hit me in the chin, I would feel pressure at both ends as my Masters would be in sync, withdrawing then thrusting at the same time. Fucking me on my hands and knees tended to not give them the best leverage. They would often pick me up and flip me over, never taking their cocks out of me. My head would hang over the edge of the oak table in the kitchen and my throat would be in line to take a thrusting cock. My ass, open, my legs tight pushing into his pecks as he thrusts into me. Heat builds under me. The small of my back perspires, my nipples stand erect, and both Masters start to sweat. They have become animal, in heat. They breed me, I am their slave, their bitch. A spot inside me feels a regular pressure. I want it to stop by my body wants it to continue. My air way struggles to draw in more oxygen. Work-from-home-Master is spending more time buried in my throat. With a grunt my throat fills with his cum and swims down to my stomach. As if naturally attracted to it's partners cum which has been loaded into my ass. And all this was just for starters. Dinner is yet to come. I am yet to come. . .
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