Becoming Daddys Bitch

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Becoming Daddy's Bitch -- Chapter 12

The next day didn't turn out at all like I expected it to be. Slipping into my little pink slippers, I served Master his coffee and Mistress her tea, then was told to go tend to their room, making their bed and picking up any discarded clothing, which included Masters socks and underwear and Mistresses panties and bra. I wasn't interested in Mistresses bra or panties, but brought Masters socks and underwear up to my nose to smell them.

I loved my Masters smells.

After serving them breakfast, I stood in my place at the end of the table while they ate. Master was on his computer while Mistress read through a magazine, and they didn't talk much at all. At one point, Master turned and opened his robe, never even glancing at me as he pointed to his cock. Blushing, I cast a furtive glance at my Mistress, then knelt and crawled between his legs. When he touched my head, I knew that I had to hold still land get ready to swallow because Master had to piss. When he was done, he simply touched my head again, and I backed away as he turned back to the table. It wasn't until after Mistress left the table that Master spoke.

"Make yourself some eggs and toast, then clean this all up. When you're, I want you facing the corner on your knees in your room."

"Yes, Master," I mumbled, wondering if I had done something wrong and was going to be punished for it. I didn't think I had, but I was nervous the whole time that I waited for him, and when he stepped into the room and uttered "feet," I turned and crawled quickly to them, sticking out my tongue to lick the boots that he was wearing.

"Good bitch. You've been well behaved, so I'm going to let you have a choice."

I paused a moment as I listened, then slowly licked at his boot as he gave me my choices.

"I can hang you in the corner by your collar, or I can chain you spread eagle to the wall, or I can chain you to the corner by your worthless little clit."

I didn't even consider why Masters chaining me up. He was Master, and his reasons were his own. I Was only being allowed a choice of how it would happen. "Do you want to be hung by your collar?"

I sat back on my feet and shook my head, tucking my hands behind me.

"No, Master."

"Spread eagle to the wall?"

I thought about it for just a moment, then shook my head again.

"No, Master."

"Then go stand facing the corner."

I crawled away and took to my feet, tucking my hands behind me once more as Master walked out of the room. I was glad that Master was pleased with me, and realized how kind he was being by giving me a choice. I had a brief image of my life before becoming Masters slave, but I didn't want to think about it. I was Masters now. Master owned me, and the only thing I should ever think of is Master.

I heard Master enter behind me, felt him grab my wrists and pull them together, then heard the click of a clasp as he linked the two wrist cuffs. Turning me to face him, he threaded a clip into the pisshole of the cage, and out again through a hole in the top. Turning me back to the corner, he told me to kneel up. Tugging lightly on the chain, he measured a link up to an eyehook about two feet from the floor and clipped them together, fastening me to the wall.

"Back on your feet."

I struggled and struggled to do as I was told, but I was so tight to the corner that there wasn't enough room to move my legs, and the chain between my ankles was too short to allow me to get my feet underneath me, Master standing silently behind me as he watched. At last, I pushed my face into the corner, inching my way up the wall on my tiptoes, the chain tugging on the cage on my clit. At last I was on my feet, gasping and panting for the exertion.

Stepping up behind me, Master pushed the ball gag into my mouth, tugging back firmly as he buckled it in place. Wrapping his arm around me, he reached down and pushed his finger up into his pussy, pressing his face against my neck to speak quietly into my ear.

"I'm glad you understand that you're no longer a person, that you're simply another piece of my property. And like all of my property, you'll be well taken care of. Like my truck, and my tools. And like my tools, when I have no need of you, you will go into storage, so I know exactly where you are when I want you next."

He pinched my nipple and dug his finger in and out, bringing my breath into short little gasps as I squirmed and moaned, my clit starting its futile attempt to fill the cage. Then his finger slid from my pussy, and a moment later I felt it spread wide as he pushed a butt plug into place. I couldn't have been the one he had used before, because this one felt considerably bigger, my asshole and my insides aching as Master walked from the room and left me.

Not a person. Just property. Master's property.

I looked down at my body. No, not my body. Master's body. Master's clit in a cage, Master's pussy behind. The legs, the feet, the chest...all of them were Masters. And Master was good to them. He used them, and took care of them, and controlled them. Like his tools and his truck. Master always took good care of his tools and his truck, and I felt a surge of pride and admiration for my Master, and a gratitude that I had never felt before.

He suddenly appeared behind me again, then an ice cream bucket was forced between my leg and the wall, and set it on the floor between my feet.

For Master's slave to pee in.

Thank you, Master.

Then he was gone as quietly as he came. My clit was pushing hard in its cage now, and I looked down at it. It was a worthless little thing, and I understood now why Master kept it in a cage. He had no use for it, it had no purpose. It was there because it needed to be, because the body had to pee, but Master had no interest in it. And why would he? There wasn't really anything that Master could use it for. Not like his pussy, which was throbbed around the putt plug. Thank you, Master, thank you, Master, thank you, Master.

His pussy had a purpose. It was there for Master to fuck, for Master to use to please himself. That was why Master plugged it. He had to take care of it, to keep it in good shape for when he wanted it. It was his, after all, to do with whatever he wanted.

I stood there for a long time, my thoughts just drifting. I was excited that my mother, my Mistress, was moving out, and felt a little guilty about it. Most kids would be devastated if their mother left them, but I wasn't, especially now that I knew that she had never wanted me anyway, that I had just been part of a deal with my Master.

Master had wanted me.

I had never really known her, anyway. Most of my life she had been gone, either travelling, or at the office, or at some seminar, or out with her friends. I had never really thought about it. It had just always been that way. Master would take me to school in the morning, and pick me up from school when it was let out, and when we got home, I had to do my chores; sweeping, vacuuming, making the beds, dusting. Master would always cook supper, and if she was there, she sometimes sat at the table with us, and she sometimes took her plate into her office, and I would have to fetch it when it was time for me to wash the dishes. After that, I usually went into my bedroom to play video games, or I'd go wandering out in the woods behind the house. I spent a lot of time there, and I knew almost every inch.

On weekends, Master almost always had jobs for me to do, cleaning tools, or moving bricks, or sweeping out the shed. When I turned twelve Master taught me how to mow the lawn, and after that it was my responsibility to mow it every Saturday.

It was only during summer vacation that I was allowed to take my bike into town, and usually only on Sunday. That was when Collin and I would go biking down by the river, or bike to the park to throw frisbee. Sometimes we would fish in the river, but all we ever caught were carps and bullhead. Collin wasn't always fun to be around, but he had really been my only friend. There were a lot of times where he would tease me or pick on me, calling me a wimp or a fag. Sometimes he would lie to me, telling me something untrue on purpose, then laugh at me because I had believed him. After a while I couldn't tell if he was telling the truth or not, so I just wouldn't say anything, then he'd call me stupid for not knowing what he was talking about.

That boy had been really dumb. It was a good thing that Master had turned him into his dumb slave.

I wasn't that boy anymore, but I was still dumb. Masters wanted me dumb. I was Masters dumb, obedient whore, and I couldn't wait to kiss his feet and suck his cock.

That was why Masters pussy was plugged, to keep me horny and obedient. That was why my clit was caged, too. And the collar, and the shackles, and the ball gag...

My little clit was so hard it hurt, and every tug of the chain sent a light jolt of pain to my groin.

I didn't know how long I had been standing there, but it was getting hard to just stand in one place, and I wanted so badly for Master to return. I tried to imagine how it would look to Master as he walked into the room, his hairless slave standing naked and shackled and collared in the corner, its hands bound behind it over the plug in its pussy.

Master's property, gagged and silent and resigned to its place.

Pressing myself into the corner, I slowly inched my way down onto my knees, losing one of my slippers, and nearly knocking the bucket out of the corner. The chain was too short to allow me to sit on my feet, so I had to stay kneeling up. Kicking off the other slipper, I pushed my shoulders against the wall and rested my head in the corner, letting my thoughts drift until I felt the urge to pee.

I watched it as it sprayed out of my clitty cage, some of the drops missing the bucket. It only took a moment before I could smell it, and I immediately thought about Masters piss. I loved Masters piss. I loved having his big cock between my lips and feeling the hot, salty, sour liquid pour over my tongue.

I wanted my Master to come home.

I knelt there a little while, then got back onto my feet again. At last I heard the chimes, and realized that I had been in the corner for over two hours. And it was only nine'o'clock, which meant that Master could be gone for at least another two. I could feel my feet falling asleep, and my knees start to hurt, so I walked up and down in place, the chin bobbing up and down between me and the wall and tugging on the cock cage.

My caged little clit.

I found it wonderful that Master had put me in a cage, denying me a penis and turning it into a clit. I knew he had wanted me to be born a girl, and he was making me as much of a girl as he could. I was his pussy, a hairless little faggot with two holes eager for his manly cock, hungry to kiss his feet and to worship him, eager to be used by him in any way he chose. He had every right to lock my clit away and turn me into a girlie little sissy.

I heard the jingle of keys and the thump of boots, and I sucked again at the drool seeping out around the ball gag. I was so excited that I didn't even hear Master come up behind me, his muscular arm crushing me against his chest as he wrapped it around me. His shirt was cold against my back, but his breath was hot on my ear.

"See bitch? Just how I left you."

He jiggled the butt plug in his pussy and pinched at my left nipple.

"Nnngh!" I grunted, sucking in my spit again.

He unclasped my hands and removed the ball gag, throwing it into the bucket along with my piss, then unclasped the chain from the wall. Without a word, tugged on it, pulling me along as he led me out of the room after him, the shackles forcing me to take five to six steps for every two of his. As soon as we turned into the kitchen, I saw Gary sitting in Masters place at the table, our eyes meeting for just a brief moment before I dropped mine, my heart skipping in my chest. Gary knew I was a slave, had seen me kneeling naked in the living room the last time he had been here with Anthony, but I blushed with embarrassment at being led on a leash by the cage on my little clit. Pulling out a chair, Master sat, tugging on the chain to bring me onto my knees.

"Are you thirsty, bitch?"

I swallowed, thinking first that Master would let me get a glass of water, but realized what he meant when he began opening his fly.

"Yes Master."

My voice cracked a little from being silent for so long.

Pulling his cock through his fly, he reached out and gently grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling me onto my hands as he guided my mouth onto it.

I forgot about everything else as I waited, happy to have Masters cock in my mouth. Just the head, but the shape was wonderful between my lips and resting on the tip of my tongue. This was what I wanted, Master's cock, this was what I lived for. That boy, that boy, that boy didn't exist anymore. That boy no longer even had a name. I was Master's slave, and I squirmed in eagerness as his hot piss began to fill my mouth.

Thank you, Master, thank you, Master, thank you, Master.

I wasn't even aware that he had lifted his hand from my head.

I sucked gently at the last few squirts, then waited for Master's voice, for Master's direction.

"Go dump the old coffee and start a new pot, then come back here and take off our boots."

I crawled away, rising to my feet only once I was past them, and hurried to do my Master's bidding, blushing again as I nervously pulled Gary's boots from his feet.

"Now take them into the laundry and clean them, then put them by the back door. By that time the coffee should be ready to serve."

"Yes, Master."

Shoulders hunched, I clutched the boots to my chest and scurried away, feeling Gary's eyes on my back until I was out of sight.

Gary scared me. He had always been intimidating.

I was glad to be free of my bonds, to be able to pull my arms in front of me and to be able to close my mouth. My arms and shoulders were stiff, but I could feel the knots loosen as I wiped down their boots and brushed them clean. It was strange and exciting to have to clean Gary's boots, to be serving him is some small way like I served my Master, and I felt my clit swell to fill the cage.

I hurriedly past them and placed their boots on the mat, the chain leash bouncing between my legs and tugging on the cage. Noticing the tracks of dirty puddles leading down the hallway to the kitchen, I almost went to get a pail before I remembered their coffee. I was shaking as I carried them to the table to serve them, keeping my eyes on the floor, but watching Gary's every move out of the corner of my eye. Setting the cups down hurriedly, I knelt beside my Masters chair, the leash rattling on the floor between my legs.

"Did you see the dirt in the hallway?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then what are you doing there?"

I turned to crawl away, accidentally kneeling on the chain leash, causing a painful tug on the cage, and even a sharper pain in my knee. Stifling a cry, I spread my knees wide, dragging the chain along the floor as I crawled to the cupboard.

There was a blueprint unrolled on the table between them, and they returned their conversation naked and collared and shackled, with my pussy plugged and my clit caged. It shouldn't matter to me that Gary was there. He had known that I was Masters slave. What should matter to me was the dirt on Masters floor, and getting Masters floor clean.

Masters floor. Master's boots, Masters bed, Masters slave. Everything was Masters.

I forgot about Master and his guest as I scrubbed the floor, looking for every speck of dirt and watching the chain leash as it snaked across the floor, my clit flopping back and forth between my legs. Masters clit. Masters caged clit. I was lucky to have such a wonderful Master, strong and handsome, who knew what a slave was and how it should be kept...how it should be used. Slaves were property, slaves were chattel, like cows and pigs and dogs, and should always be grateful and obedient for their Masters.

Before I knew it, I was kneeling beneath the edge of the table, staring at the men's stockinged feet, and only then became aware of their voices above me. I couldn't clean any more without disturbing them, so I knelt back on my haunches, clutching the sponge between my legs. It was several moments before I heard Masters voice directed at me.

"Set your bucked aside and refill our coffees, then you can remove Mr. Bingham's socks and give him a proper greeting."

Remove Gary's...Mr. Bingham's socks? A proper...?

I was being told to kiss Gary's feet!

It took me a moment to move, and I was shaking so badly when I poured their coffee, I was afraid of splashing it all over the table. I tucked my chin to my chest as I approached Gary and knelt, my heart thudding in my chest with nervousness. I was about to crawl under the table when he turned toward me in his chair, sticking his feet out in front of him. My breath caught in my throat, I crawled to them and started working off his socks, trying to be gentle. Setting them aside, I drove my tongue between his big toe and his next and started to lick, finding my clit swelling painfully in its cage.

It was strange, kissing Gary's feet, but I had a sudden rush of realization. Of course I would be kissing Gary's feet. Gary knew I was a slave. Gary had always known that I was a slave, that, one day, Master would make me his slave. That was why he had always treated me the way he did, like just a stupid kid who would never amount to anything. It was thought he had been helping Master train me for as long I could remember, and then I realized that he probably had.

It suddenly became very important to me to show Gary how well Master had trained me, and Master, how much I strived to please him.

I could feel my pussy clenching around the butt plug as I licked and sucked, pressing my chin against the cold tile as I snaked my tongue beneath his toes and drew them into my mouth to suck. Gary had nice feet. He had a man's feet. They weren't huge and muscled like Masters, but chiseled and angular and solid as a brick, with tiny tufts of dark hair on his toes. Not all of his toes. Not the two little ones.

My clit was straining in its cage. I was excited and humiliated and eager, knowing this was only the first of many times to come. I remembered Master telling me that I was to serve and obey every man as though they were my Master, and Gary was definitely a man! I was lucky to be at his feet, kissing them and licking them and sucking them, wanting him to know what an honor it was for me. I subconsciously cupped his foot into my hands, lifting it to rub his arch with my cheek as I licked at his heel.

Gary's feet. Beautiful feet. A man's feet. They deserved to be kissed and licked and sucked by a worthless little slave whore.

I was so proud to be a worthless little whore. Thank you, Master, thank you, Master, thank you, Master. Did Master know? Did Gary know? They had to. They had to see how happy I was, how grateful I was.

Of course, they knew.

I didn't think of it, wasn't even aware that I had pulled Gary's other foot to my mouth as I licked and sucked, wrapping my lips around his toes, then digging my nose between them as I licked the ball of his foot. Lifting it, he moved it back to where he was most comfortable, and I instinctively crawled after it, happy that I was being shown where I would worship it.

Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.

My clit ached, as did my pussy, and I wanted nothing more right then than to be fucked.

His foot became my world, and for long moments I knew of noting else until he nudged me with his toes.

"Put my socks back on now, faggot."

Faggot. It was demeaning and degrading, and though I didn't like it, I knew I deserved it. I was a faggot. And a bitch and a whore.

His foot was still wet with my spit when I tried to put on the first one, and I struggled with it, fearing at every moment that he was going to ridicule me for my stupidity. The second one slid on a little easier, and I was relieved when he simply turned himself back toward the table.

"Over here now, bitch," I heard Masters voice from the other side of the table. My heart was hammering and I was panting as I crawled around the table to him. Grasping my hair gently, he pulled me between his legs and pressed my face into his crotch.

"That's a good little bitch. Wasn't it nice of Mr. Bingham to let you kiss his feet?" he asked as he ran his fingers softly though my hair.

I nodded slightly. "Yes, Master."

"Yes, and you were a very good little bitch for Mr. Bingham."

"Thank you, Master," I replied when he paused for a moment.

Bending over me, he wiggled the butt plug stuffed in his pussy, causing me to moan and squirm.

"Do you like that I have my pussy plugged, bitch?"

"Yes, Master!"

"Yes, you do, just like you like your collar, and your chains, and the little cage I have locked around your little clit, because you know now exactly what you are, and what your place is in my world."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

Yes, Master knew! Master understood, and I was sure that Gary did, too.

He pushed the plug in again, and I pushed back against it.

"And the only thing that you want, the only thing that's important to you, is pleasing me, isn't it?"

My pussy was throbbing with need as I worked against the butt plug, and I gasped my answer out.

"Yes, Master. Please Master."

He chuckled above me and stroked my head again, pressing me firmly into his crotch, the bulge of his cock running across my cheeks and brushing my lips.

Yes. Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.

Lifting his hand from my head, he sat back and I crawled hurriedly away to find my bucket.

Masters bucket. Masters slave.

I barley registered the two men rising from the table and disappearing from the room, never even glanced from the window to see them walking down the path to Masters shed. I knew only what I had been told, and was eager to obey, tucking the bucket and the sponge into the closet before crawling beneath the table, my eyes fixed on a dark smudge of dirt.

The dirt was still wet with snowmelt as I licked it from the floor, which helped wash the grit down as I swallowed. I thought that I should dislike it, but it didn't matter. I didn't want it to matter. I needed it not to matter. I was Masters slave. It was Masters dirt. It was Masters floor, and as Master had said, I was to be grateful.

My cheek pressed against the tile as I licked, my eyes searched the floor for the next smudge of dirt.

I was going to be a good bitch for Master.

Master was kind when I was a good bitch. Master knew...Master understood. I needed Master. I needed to worship Master, and Master returned his kindness by teaching me, by guiding me, by owning me. Even when Master punished me, he was being kind. I had to learn. I had to know. How lucky I was to have such a handsome, masculine, powerful Master. How lucky I was to have my pussy plugged and my clit caged, the chain leash still clipped to the cage dragging on the floor between my knees. How lucky was I to be his bitch and his whore. Master would find his floor clean. Master would find his floor spotless, and if Master found it to his satisfaction, I would kiss his feet to thank him.

My clit was pulsing painfully in its cage, my sphincter pulsing around the butt plug, but I gave them little thought as I examined the floor, determined to find any little speck or smudge of dirt, and was disappointed when I couldn't find any more. I had finished my task, and hadn't been told what to do next. The only thing I could think of was to wait next to my Masters chair. I started for it, then hurried to the bathroom to relieve my bladder and get a glass of water, feeling almost guilty for wanting it as I knelt in my place to wait. I wanted Master to return. I wanted him to be pleased, and to reward me with his praise, and the honor and the opportunity of licking his beautiful balls and sucking his gorgeous, manly cock.

The cock cage stood out between my legs, my clit still pulsing madly inside. I was so happy being Masters slave, could scarcely believe that my life, my Master, could ever bring me here. There was nothing else in the world that was important to me, now. I wanted this. I wanted to dedicate my whole life to my Master, to submit to him completely; to be used and controlled however he wished, and to be punished and degraded and humiliated as I deserved. I would be a good slave for my Master. I would work to be the best slave that my Master could ever want, and I thought again about how grateful I was for the collar and the shackles and the wrist cuffs, and for the cage on my clit and the plug in Masters pussy. And the chain leash, too, still hanging from the tip of the cage and pooled on the floor between my legs. It made me happy to wear it for my Master.

I knew that anyone who saw me would say that Master had brainwashed me, but he didn't.

I did!

I had been confused at first, and sometimes even frightened, but when I understood that Master planned to make me a slave, I didn't fight it. I could have. I could have from the very start, when he told me that I would be doing my chores naked, but I hadn't. Though I hadn't defined it then, looking back, I realized I had felt a certain eroticism about it. By the time I did understand what was happening, I knew right away that I didn't want to. I knew that I didn't know what to do, or how to act, but could only do what I was told to do, and not resist or complain.

And I found that it was easy.

I did what Master said, and didn't try to make decisions for myself. And when he started calling me bitch and whore and slave, I convinced myself that that was what I was, and when he started saying I was dumb, and worthless, I simply knew it was true, because that was just what a slave was.

And if Master was going to make me into his slave, then that was what I was going to be!

My heart was pounding in anticipation of Master and Gary returning to the house, hoping Master would be pleased at finding me patiently waiting for him. When the men did at last stroll down the hall, they paused between the living room and the kitchen, and a moment later, Master spoke.

"Come here, bitch."

I turned to find him pointing to a spot on the floor beside him, and hurried to kneel there, Gary watching me from off to the side.

"What's wrong with those chairs?"

I glanced up from the floor, and it took me a moment before I realized that I hadn't put them back under the table where they belonged.

Before I could answer, Master let out a heavy sigh.

"Put them where they belong."

I hurried to obey, disappointed in myself for having forgotten, especially because I knew better, and tried hard to place them as precisely as I could before hurrying back to kneel in the spot I had just vacated.

Stepping past me, the two men pulled the chairs back out and sat, Gary sitting once again in Masters usual place. Without hesitation, Master began instructing me to make them lunch, opening two cans of chili and toasting grilled cheese sandwiches. I was just about ready to serve them when Master pulled out another bowl and scooped some of the chili into it.

"That will be your lunch after we leave. You can make yourself a sandwich then as well. After you've served us, you will go to the living room and kneel facing the corner, ass up and hands behind your back, and you will remain there until you are told."

"Yes, Master."

I thought about a lot of things as I knelt there. Was this my punishment for not pushing in the chairs? Or was it not, and would I still be punished? They hadn't taken off their boots, so I would have to wipe up the floor again. Would I have to lick it clean again? I had liked licking the floor. I had liked kissing Gary's feet, and I wanted to be able to kiss them again.

It was almost forty-five minutes before Master called me to him again, giving me a list of instructions as I knelt in front of him. When he was finished, he had me stand up. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the cage and removed it, setting on the table next to him and returning his keys ito his pocket along with the lock.

"Wash that and put in on the table next to my chair, and when you're finished with everything, I want you showered and my pussy clean. You can scrub your clit with the loufa, but other than that, you don't touch it. Is that understood, bitch?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good whore. Now go about your tasks."

I timidly scooped up the cage and hurried for the bathroom as the men rose and prepared to leave, my little clit swinging back and forth now that it was free. It actually felt a little weird not to have the cage locked on my clit, and I couldn't decide whether I was happy about it or not. In a way it was nice, but I had become so accustomed to the weight and the feel of it, that it almost felt wrong for it not to be there, and the first thing I did when I got to the bathroom was to look at it. It looked a little smaller than I remembered it, and I could smell a slightly sour aroma from having been caged for so long without a proper washing. Setting to work on the cage, I washed and dried it and placed it on his table as I had been instructed.

The first thing I did was to clear the table, then I made myself a sandwich and sat down to eat. My main task of the day was to do all of my Mistresses laundry, and make sure everything was properly washed, dried, folded, hung, and put away where it belonged. Most of it I was able to put in the washing machine, but there were several items that had to be hand washed, and by the time I was finished with them and had them hanging to dry, I was able to move the first load of clothes to the dryer and start a second.

The rest of my afternoon was spent doing the dishes, and cleaning the kitchen, and scrubbing the floors and the tubs and the toilets, wiping up the boot prints and the puddles beneath the table for a second time. It was three thirty by the time I finished everything, and I was exhausted by the time I went to clean pussy, groaning out loud when I pulled out Masters plug. It wasn't as big as I had thought it was when he first pushed it in, but it was definitely bigger than the first one he had used, and I was actually proud of the fact that I had adapted to it right away. Sitting on the toilet to empty, I stared down at my clit. It was shrunken to just a little nub, and I realized that, even unlocked, it hadn't gotten hard all day. Then I noticed the little hairs that were growing around it, that had been trapped under the ring of the cage. I wanted to examine it further, to see if there were hairs growing anywhere else, but had been told not to touch it. I could. How could Master know if I did? But if I did, and Master asked me about it, he would know if I lied about it. Master always knew when I lied, so I had stopped lying to him long ago.

It wasn't until after I finished my shower that I remembered the pee pail and the ball gag still sitting in the corner of my bedroom, so I emptied the pail and washed them both, setting the ball gag next to Masters pussy plug, and putting the pail back on the shelf in the garage with all the others.

I put away the rest of my Mistress's clothes, then went to wait in my place next to Masters chair, wondering if there was something I might have forgotten. I was getting sleepy, so I laid on the floor, and eventually fell asleep, waking some time later to the sound of Masters feet as he stomped through the door from the garage. Rubbing my eyes, I got quickly back onto my knees, happy to hear Gary's heavy footsteps behind him. I thought about their boots leaving dirt all the way down the hallway again, and I told myself that I was glad, that it just gave me one more thing to do to serve my Master, and serve in my capacity as his bitch and his slave. I heard the noises they made while my heart pounded in anticipation; packages being set on the table, the chairs being pulled aside, the low rumble of their conversation, and waited for Masters first bark of a command. I knew he could see me from his chair, and hoped he was pleased to find me kneeling properly, with my hands behind my back and my eyes fixed to the floor in front of me. There were several long moments of conversation before he called me to his feet, instructing me to remove their boots and to clean them once again and put them on the mat by the back door. By the time I returned they were in the living room, Master in his recliner and Gary on the couch just to his right. I didn't even get to the living room before Master sent me to get them each a beer. It was only then that I noticed the time. It was almost six thirty. I had slept for well over an hour.

I served Gary first, standing just to his right and holding out the beer until he took it. Masters I set on the table to his right when he indicated the coaster with his finger. Thinking quickly, I set another coaster on the table for Gary.

"Stand in place."

I did so, standing in the spot I usually knelt, my arm at my side as I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Hands behind your back, unless you want me to lock the there."

I quickly obeyed, aware that Gary was watching.

Putting a dollop of lube in his hand, Master reached out to grab my uncaged clit, and I gasped as he smeared it on and gently started to stroke it. It hardened in his hand almost immediately, and I could feel my whole body start to tremble. He stroked a little more, and I could feel myself rising to orgasm, when he suddenly stopped, leaving me hanging just on the edge.

"There's a container of leftovers on the counter. You can have those with a glass of milk. When you finish, you're down on my feet."

There was a fairly large fried fish filet and a piece of steak inside, along with a handful of French fries and a pile of broccoli, and a little container of tartar sauce. There was also a piece of cherry pie, and I couldn't believe how happy I was to be allowed to have it.

I didn't bother to heat any of it up, and was glad to find that it was still warm, hurrying to wash the glass and the utensils as soon as I finished. Kneeling at my Masters feet, I gently pulled off his socks and started to kiss them. I barely had time to wrap my lips around his big toe before he told me to stand in place.

Grabbing my clit, he snapped the ring around its base and locked the cage back into place.

"Thank you, Master," I replied, and only paused a moment before dropping back to my knees and crawling back to his feet. He dropped the footrest of his recliner, then unzipped his pants and dug his cock out through the fly.

"Piss hole."

I crawled between his legs eagerly, moaning softly with pleasure as his hot, tangy piss splashed onto my tongue and filled my mouth, his manly aroma filling my nostrils, my clit swelling painfully in its cage.

Thank you, Master, thank you, Master, thank you Master.

I knew I was being rewarded, regardless that Master never pissed in the toilet when he was home. I had been told over and over again what an honor it was for me to be allowed to drink the piss from his cock, and of course it was true. There wasn't a luckier bitch in the world to have such a kind and thoughtful Master.

"Now go welcome my guest."

Gary already had his socks off, his legs propped up on the footstool, and I crawled to his feet to kiss them, my eyes fixed studiously on his foot as I pressed my tongue against the arch and began to lick.

Masters guest.

It had nothing to do with me. I was nothing, just a bitch and a slave who had been told to greet my Masters guest, to debase myself before him with my worship of his feet.

And it was Gary. He had never been impressed by me, by anything I had ever said or did, but now I wanted to impress him by my absolute subservience to him, by my absolute subservience to my Master. It was a great honor to be kissing and licking his feet, and I moaned as I squirmed and I licked and I sucked, my pussy pulsing and my clit throbbing happily in its cage.

Gary chuckled.

"Look how happy you are. You certainly are a pathetic little faggot."

Yes, I was happy, and even happier at hearing him degrade me. I needed to be degraded, to be constantly reminded that I was nothing but a worthless slave, and I licked and kissed his feet even more passionately. I lost all track of time. I lost all awareness of anything, the TV, their voices, even myself. The only thing in my world were Gary's feet, those gorgeous, manly feet, and my intense desire to worship them, admiring them with my eyes as much as with my lips and my tongue. I was so high with euphoria that I barely registered Master telling me to get them each another beer.

Panting and gasping, I started to obey, then pulled my thoughts together enough to take their empty beer cans back with me. Opening the cans for them, I held Gary's out, and he took it without acknowledging me, his gaze never leaving the TV. Master didn't acknowledge me either, until I returned to my hands and knees and started crawling back to Gary's feet, returning to the task I had been performing prior to Masters last command.

"You have a punishment coming, don't you, bitch.

I froze in place, crawling back to my Master and curling into a ball at his feet, remembering I had left the kitchen chairs out of place.

"Yes, Master."

I knew when it happened that I was going to be punished for it. Master had said that he was going to punish me often.

He dopped the footrest and stood, then directed me to kneel up in front of him, take off his belt, and hand it to him.

"Turn around, face on the floor, ass in the air."

I whimpered at the first strike, then did my best to bite back my cries, though by the eighth strike I couldn't help myself, and yelped aloud at the tenth. I clenched my jaw for the eleventh, but it never came.

"Now go take care of the floor, and when you're finished, I want you back at me feet," Master said as he slid his belt back around his waist.

"I need to piss, first, faggot," Gary interjected.

I froze in place. He had to...was I supposed to...I hadn't expected that, and all of my thoughts fled my brain.

"Well, you heard him. It's impolite to make Mr. Bingham wait."

Gary had kicked the stool aside, and lifted his butt from the chair so he could unzip his trousers, reaching through the fly to dig out his cock. Other than Masters, I had never seen a man's cock before, only the boys in gym class, and I both terrified and excited as I crawled between his legs to wrap my lips around its head, my whole body shaking with nervousness. His cock wasn't as long as my Masters, but as I took it in my mouth, I could tell it was thicker. It was gorgeous, and I admired it while his hot piss began to fill my mouth. I quickly started swallowing. It was salty and sour, with just a little bitterness, but it had that same earthy, masculine taste that Masters had, and I grown to love the taste of Masters piss.

"Yes. Your Masters trained you very well, hasn't he?"

I nodded my head, grateful for his praise as I sucked and swallowed his steady stream, grateful for the humiliation of it as my clit grew rock hard in its cage. I was a just pathetic little faggot, and could see what an honor it was for me to be between his legs, to have my lips wrapped around the head of his cock as he used me for his urinal.

He knew I was nothing. Not a person, just a slave. Just an object. A piece of property.

I knew that he watched me the entire time, though I never lifted my eyes from his cock. When he was finished, he squeezed out last few drops and pulled it from my mouth, tucking it back into his pants as I backed out from between his legs. I started to crawl toward the kitchen, but Master stopped me.

"I didn't hear you thank him, bitch."

I paused and turned back, my eyes on the floor as I sat back on my feet.

"Thank you...Sir."

"Not good enough," Master reprimanded me gently. "When you thank someone, you need to tell them why you are thanking them, and what you are thanking them for!"

I thought about it for a moment, then replied. "Thank you for letting me drink your piss, Sir."

I hoped that the answer satisfied my Master, but it didn't.

"That's better, but I think we're going to make this a lesson. I want you to think again about why you're thanking him. And remember, this is not about you. It is never about you."

They waited in silence as I worked to understand what Master meant.

"Thank you for pissing in my mouth, Sir!?"

Masters voice warmed a little.

"You're getting l closer, but I still heard the word "my, which means you're still thinking of you as "you", and you need to start thinking of you as "it." Now, when you thank him, I want to hear what "it" is."

I understood. I understood completely.

"Thank you for using this slave to piss in, Sir!"

Gary simply watched and chuckled through the whole exchange, and I found myself blushing deeper and deeper with every response, proud of my Master for making me see more clearly what I was, and proud of myself for learning and understanding what Master was teaching me.

"That's much better, but Mister Bingham doesn't refer to you as a slave. You should always refer to yourself as the man you are thanking sees you."

I dropped my shoulders and hung my head further.

"Yes, Master."

I was about to respond again, but Master said, "That's good enough for now," so I hurried crawled away, nearly forgetting where I was going and what I was supposed to do. I could feel my collar, and the cuffs and the shackles and the cage, and they took on a new importance, clearly defining me as an object and a possession. A whole new wave of comfort and security washed over me.

A possession. Not a he, or a me, or a my, or an I, but an "it." An object to be owned.

And it was "Master" who owned me.

I didn't think about filling the pail, or adding the soap, or scrubbing the floor. I just did it. I did it because I had been told to by Master, because Master sat in his chair and expected his little owned bitch to performed the task it was given, its naked body collared and cuffed and shackled and caged as it should be.

Thank you, Master, thank you, Master, thank you, Master.

It was then that I realized that I needed to thank my Master properly.

Tucking the scrub pail away, I hurried down the hallway to empty my bladder before returning to Master, and when I saw the enema syringe on the counter, I knew that I wanted to give Masters pussy a quick rinse. It had been four hours since I had cleaned Masters pussy, and I wanted it to be nice and clean for him. I ran some warm water and filled myself, then sat to empty both my pussy and my bladder at the same time.

I returned to Masters feet, kneeling in front of him and a little off to his left, well out of his line of sight for the television, waiting only a few moments for him to give me a command before I spoke.

"Th...th...thank you for making me..."

I stopped, then stuttered again.

Th..th..thank you for making this bitch..."

He looked down on me and waited, Gary watching, too.

"Th..thank you for making this bitch your slave and your whore, Master."

I blushed a deep red from saying it, and deeper red because Gary had witnessed it.

He stared down at me for a few moments, then snapped his fingers, pointing to "my place" beside his chair. Crawling to it, I sat back on my feet and put my hands behind my back.

"Prostrate."

I crumbled forward and pressed my left cheek onto the carpet and arched my back as I had been taught, my arms spread out above my head. Always my left cheek, so I could see Masters feet if they were on the floor. Then I felt Masters finger as he pushed it up into my pussy, making me moan softly. He pulled it out again, wetting it with his spit, then pushed it back in.

Thank you, Master, thank you, Master, thank you, Master. My clit hardened immediately, and I had to fight not to squirm under my Masters ministrations as he pushed in another finger and slid them in and out of my hole. I couldn't say how long he kept it up, but at length he pulled them out and sent me to get each of them another beer, pointing to his feet when I set his on the coaster next to him.

I spent the rest of the evening kissing Masters feet, and it was nine o'clock before the game that they were watching ended. Gary pulled his socks back onto his feet, then instructed me to hold his shoes for him while he slid his feet into them, and tie them for. Exchanging goodbyes, Gary left, Master disappearing down the hallway and into his bedroom.

I didn't know what to do, so I crawled back into my "place" to wait.

"Take care of the empty cans," Master barked as he returned. "I shouldn't have to tell you that!"

I jumped to my feet, hanging my head as I scurried past my Master with the empty beer cans, the short chain between my ankles clinking loudly and clattering on the kitchen floor. He was dressed in his robe, and was sitting with his feet up by the time I returned. I hurried to his feet, dropping down on all fours so I could lick them in apology.

"Sorry, Master," I whined, wrapping my lips around his toes.

"You need to start paying attention, bitch," he admonished. "I shouldn't need to tell you when to make my bed, or pick up my clothes, or scrub my floors, or do my laundry. I just expect them to be done, and if I find that they're not, then you will be punished."

I licked and licked at his foot, then realized what he was telling me. Ducking my head again, I quickly crawled away toward his bedroom to pick up the clothes he had left strewn about. I gathered them all up, pressing the crotch of his underwear to my nose as I hurried them to the laundry.

Masters smell.

I knew that I would miss things, that I wouldn't think of doing something that Master expected to be done, and I knew that it would happen often. I was going to be punished, and there was nothing I could do about it. I could only do my best to ty to please my Master.

I sniffed the crotch of his underwear again before I dropped them into the basket, my mind whirling around what else I should do for my Master before returning to is feet. I hurried back to the bedroom, noticing the comforter was wrinkled on Masters bed. I tugged it straight, then looked in Masters bathroom. Nothing seemed out of place, so I returned to my Master, kneeling in my place for fear of doing something to displease him. He flipped idly through a magazine, pausing occasionally to look over the page, then set the magazine aside and lowered his foot rest.

"Come here," he leaned forward in his chair and tapped the floor in front of him.

I crawled to the spot, suddenly nervous, though he had spoken gently.

"Closer."

I scuttled up until my knees almost touched the footrest, my shoulders pulled up to my ears. Reaching out, he gently pushed his thumb into my mouth, wrapping his fingers softly around my chin.

"Look at me."

I felt my eyes grow wide. I had been told never to look him in the eye, never to raise my eyes above his chest. I glanced up and met his gaze, but dropped my eyes back down immediately.

"No, look at me," he repeated.

I struggled to look up again, but eventually met his gaze. His thumb was caressing my tongue, and I licked at it softly.

"I want you to know that I'm proud of you. You didn't fight against me. You simply accepted what you are, and I know that you understand your place. And I can tell that you're trying very hard to do your best. But I still need to punish you. It doesn't mean I'm angry with you, but you're a slave, nothing more, and that's just the way it has to be. You do understand that, don't you."

It was more of a statement than a question, but I nodded, dropping my eyes again as I considered it. I knew he was right, and that it would just become a part of my life.

"Good. Now go lay across the stool. I want to fuck."

He released my jaw, and I pulled myself off his thumb, crawling eagerly to the stool. I was elated! Master was proud of me! And now Master was going to fuck me!

My heart was beating wildly as I pressed my chest onto the leather and arched my back, my ass into the air. I heard his knees hit the floor as he positioned himself behind me, and I reached back to spread my cheeks apart, eager for Master to use me. I expected to feel cock push against my hole, and gasped when he pressed his warm, wet tongue onto his pussy and started licking. Then sensation was incredible, and I moaned out loud, my clit growing snugly into its cage. His tongue darted in and out, then suddenly he was filling me, sliding his cock in in one slow stroke until his muscular thighs pressed against my tender, hairless ass cheeks. Drawing slowly back, he pushed in again, grabbing my hips as he settled into a slow, easy rhythm.

"I have to say, you are a good fuck."

He picked up his pace a little, and I arched my back even further, pushing back against his thrusts as his thighs slapped into me.

Thank you, Master. Thank you for fucking me, Master. Thank you for fucking your bitch, Master.

I wanted to be that. To be just his bitch. To be just a hole for his huge, gorgeous cock. To be the prefect pussy, the perfect cunt, the best little fuck hole that his cock could ever fill.

Masters whore. Masters bitch.

He was grunting and groaning, slamming his cock in harder and harder. Then he stopped, his cock pressed in as deep as it could go, and held it there. Then he drew it back and slammed it in.

"You're...."

He held it there a moment, then slammed it in again.

"My..."

He pushed in so hard he nearly pushed me forward on the stool, then drew back and slammed himself in one more time.

"Bitch!"

He did three more quick, hard thrusts, then let out a loud, drawn-out groan, his cock throbbing in its pussy as he emptied his load, his hips moving slowly in time with the pulse of his orgasm. Panting and sighing, he collapsed on top of me, his warm, hairy chest pressing against my back as he nuzzled into my neck. Slowly he softened, then finally slipped out, hefting himself onto his feet and scooping up his robe to throw it over his shoulders before he sitting down. I peeled myself off the stool and quickly crawled between his legs. Grabbing his cock, he slapped it a couple of times on the seat of his chair, then let it go, allowing me to take it gently into my mouth. I sucked and licked softly, carefully considering what I was going to say before I spoke.

"Thank you, Master."

I licked and sucked a little more.

"Thank you for fucking your bitch with your beautiful cock, Master."

He didn't respond, but simply watched until I was done cleaning every inch of his crotch with my tongue.

"Bed."

I went through my routine, turning down his bed and preparing his coffee, his cum slowly leaking from his pussy and running down my leg. I cleaned myself up and sat to pee and empty, brushed my teeth, tucking my blanket around me as I crawled onto my mattress. There was still a faint smell of my urine, and the collar and cuffs and shackles and cage overwhelmed me with a sense of security and safety as I lay there. All I could think about was my Master, how strict and demanding he was, how kind and gentle he was, how happy I was at his feet and in his crotch.

And Master was proud of me!

I was the luckiest slave that any slave could hope to be.

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