Master was in front of his home early Saturday afternoon doing yard work when I returned from the grocery store. Before I unloaded the groceries I knelt in the yard and pretended to pick up some invisible debris.
After putting everything away I took some time to watch Master out my window. It's a joy just watching him in motion. His movements are so athletic and graceful. I love to watch the movement of his muscles as he goes about his work.
It's was also pretty entertaining to watch the reaction of the neighbors as they got sight of my magnificent Master. He was fairly new to the neighborhood and created quite a stir as he did his yard work shirtless. It seemed everyone wanted to introduce themselves to him and be friendly. No one was that friendly towards me when I moved to the neighborhood. They all wanted to stop and visit. It was fortunate Master's garage faced my house rather than the street. Otherwise he'd never get any work done out there. It seemed everyone wanted to be near him and bask in the glow if his magnificence.
All the attention impeded his work but he appeared to enjoy the adulation. Then I saw Alan and Karen Waterman out for a walk. They lived a couple streets over in the wealthier part of the community. Alan is the son of George Waterman, owner of Waterman Plumbing Supply and Waterman Steel. Karen is his beautiful trophy wife. Alan isn't much like his father. While George was brilliant and industrious, Alan was pompous and self absorbed. As they walked by, they naturally stopped to initiate a conversation. They were both mesmerized by Master. Like everyone else, they couldn't take their eyes off him. While talking, Master reached up and grabbed a limb in the tree he was standing beneath, showing off his muscular arm and hairy armpit. Karen was utterly infatuated while Alan furtively surveyed the whole of Master's body. Then I saw something that really made me laugh. Alan absent mindedly reached down and touched himself, not once, but twice. I think Alan was as taken by Master as was Karen. Eventually they tore themselves away and moved on and I got to the housework that I needed to finish. I always tried to keep the house neat and clean so it would be fitting for a visit from my Master
About an hour later, Master walked in all hot and drenched with sweat from working in the sun. I automatically kissed his feet and assumed my position on my knees. I could feel the heat from his powerful body and smell his sweat. "Lick the sweat out of my pits boy," he said simply. I quickly got up and dove into the hairy cavern of his armpit. I love the smell of a man's perspiration and Master's was really strong from all the hard work he'd been doing. I loved the feel of his pit hair as I ran my adoring tongue through it, lapping up the salty wetness within. I could have stayed there forever but Master took my head in his huge hand and shoved my face in his other smelly pit. When he was satisfied that I had swallowed all the liquid from his armpits he lowered his shorts and jock to the floor, sat down on the couch and turned on a baseball game. My face was all wet from his pit sweat. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor between his outstretched legs. I assumed the classic cocksucker position, kneeling before the alter of his maleness, my face in line with his hairy crotch. "Get your tongue to work on my equipment slave," he ordered. I started working my tongue on his massive cock licking up and down and making his huge head all wet with my tongue. Then I moved to the luscious sack holding his precious orbs. The masculine crotch smell was extra strong today and I was in heaven it as I ran my tongue through the thick pubic hair worshiping my godly Master.
After a while Master slid forward on the couch and brought his feet back exposing his hole. "Make my hole feel as good as you did my cock boy," he said. "Clean the hair around my shitter." I was a little taken aback. I had known this was a possibility but I was caught off guard by it. Was his hole clean I wondered? Could it be after working out in the sun for hours? I was just deciding that I had no choice when his fist hit me in the left eye knocking me over. He was on me immediately, pummeling my chest and finished by kicking me in the balls causing me to go into the fetal position. "Listen you pathetic faggot. I don't care if you think licking out my shitter is dirty or sick or anything else that is going through your inferior mind, you are going to get on your knees and stick your faggot tongue up my asshole or I'm going to beat you senseless." I was scared to death. Master sat back down and through my pain I got back on my knees. This time I applied my tongue to his hole without further hesitation. As I was tongue washing the hairs around his hole I realized this was pretty pleasant. I liked the feel of his asshole on my tongue and as I stuck my tongue deep inside him I discovered the pleasurable smoothness of the canal that carries his shit. I was actually reveling in putting my tongue up his asshole as far as I could get it and considered it an honor to be able to do so. Like everything else I had experienced with my Master, this was very pleasurable.
I was ashamed of myself for hesitating to follow his order. I had broken one of the rules of slavery and had given him the impression that I was repulsed by the idea of applying my tongue to a part of his perfect body. I was ashamed that I had given him that impression. I am a low slave put on earth to serve men. Anytime I get to touch my superior Master it is an honor and I should always convey that through my eagerness to serve him in any way that provides him even the smallest amount of pleasure. I had failed as a slave. On top of that, the area around my left eye was now throbbing in pain. There was no doubt that I would be sporting a pretty good shiner for a few days.
After a while Master took me to the bathroom where he took a shower. This was a new delight for me as I got to get in the shower and bathe him. It was a special treat for me as I don't get nearly as many opportunities to touch his body as I would like. Washing him down, I got the supreme privilege of feeling all of his tremendous muscles. I told him how much I admired him. The pleasure of being with him certainly made up for the pain I was experiencing from the beating I had just taken. And to make things even better, he pissed all over me while we were in there which was another wonderful new experience. I dried him off and he sent me over to his place to fetch some clean clothes while he returned to the game. When I returned I said, "Master I apologize for my disrespect earlier. It is an honor to lick your asshole. Thank you for giving me the punishment I deserved."
As expected, I had a big black eye come Sunday morning which created a new stir at work on Monday. I explained that I got it doing yard work and a tree limb that I was cutting came up and hit me in the eye. It seemed plausible since it had actually happened several years earlier. Richard Morales demanded that I tell him what really happened. I admitted that my Master had beaten me for hesitating to lick his asshole. Richard got a chuckle out of that.
When I got home Monday evening there was a package on my porch. I knew what it was. It was the whip and paddle Master made me buy. I wasn't looking forward to giving them to him. When I presented them to Master later that evening he tried them out on me just for fun. The whip on my back left a few welts to go with my black eye. He ordered me to hang them on the wall of my room as a reminder of what would happen when I misbehaved. After he left I installed two hooks on the wall of my room and hung them where I could see them when I was in bed. Master was right, they were a good reminder.
I was pleased to see Master when he came into the house just before 7:00 Tuesday evening. He didn't have much time for me though. He explained that Karen Waterman was meeting him there so that he could fuck her. When she arrived, he sent me to a spare bedroom and told me to stay there. I knew I shouldn't have been jealous but I couldn't help it. I was cooped up in a bedroom and wasn't permitted to leave while some rich bitch was getting my Master's giant cock stuck in her. From the sounds she was making she was enjoying the fuck she was getting quite a bit. Master had her screaming like a wild creature. After he was finished fucking her she left and he let me out of my prison. I wasn't happy but decided it wouldn't be proper to show it. He left without a thank you for the use of the facilities. I was left to clean up the mess they left on my bed.
Wednesday evening brought a repeat performance. I hadn't had Master's cock in my mouth since Sunday and I missed it terribly. Of course, there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I just cheerfully provided the facilities he required for his pleasure. I knew his pleasure was all that was important.
Thursday evening, I was in Master's garage helping him with the Mustang. It was coming along nicely. Master wanted to finish it within the next month so it would be ready for Joe's birthday.
Joe came out of the house and asked to use Master's car. He turned Joe down saying that he needed it later. Joe turned to me. "Give me your car keys," he said. There was no way I was going to give my nearly new BMW to a high school senior.
"I can't do that," I responded.
"Give me the keys boy," he insisted.
I turned to Master for support. "I don't want to give him my car," I said, not quite pleading.
Master said, "Give me the keys." I handed them over. He handed them to Joe and said to me, "tell you what, if you can take them away from Joe he won't use your car."
Joe advanced on me with a big grin on his face. He checked me with his chest and started slapping me in the face lightly. "Yeah, take them from me boy," he said, jingling the keys in my face. "C'mon, I'm just a high school boy and you're an adult man. Surely you can take me."
I just hung my head in resignation. There was no way I could retrieve the keys. Joe could crush me like a bug. He then turned and headed towards my car. He started the car and started to move but stopped, got out of the car and came back. "Give me some gas money boy," he said with his hand out. I took out my wallet and gave him twenty dollars. "More," he said simply. I gave him another twenty and he left. He squealed the tires as he pulled away.
Thankfully the BMW was in its place Friday morning when I was ready to head to the gym. I found the keys in the ignition. The car didn't look too much worse for the wear although a look in the back seat told me that Joe had sex back there with one of his many girlfriends. For the third time this week I was going to have to clean up after a straight man's sexual encounter with a girl.
At the gym Friday morning, Clayton wasn't satisfied that with my progress holding my breath. I thought the ten seconds I had added in only a week was reasonable.
While Clayton was putting me through my paces in the gym, another member looked me over and asked him, "Where did you find this piece of shit?" There was obvious distain in his voice as he looked me up and down.
Clayton responded, "This is another member's cock slave. I've been tasked to get him in shape so he won't be such an embarrassment."
I couldn't believe he would be so indiscrete. After all, I was his customer. I was paying for his service and giving him a fifty dollar tip three times a week. "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't do that again," I said.
He just said, "Oh OK." Then he took me back to one of the fitness conference rooms. After closing the door, he violently slammed me against the wall. With his muscular forearm on my throat he yelled, "Listen you sniveling, foot licking piece of slave shit, don't you ever tell me what to do again. I don't take orders from a faggot slave. You take orders from me! Got it?"
I timidly said, "Yes Clayton. I apologize. It won't happen again." I don't know what I was thinking about. I knew better than that. Clayton is a masculine dominant man. I had no business challenging a man like him. I exist to serve men like him. I certainly deserved what just happened to me. Fortunately, I got through the rest of the session without angering Clay further. Now I would have to tell Master what I did. He would no doubt use his new equipment to punish me.
That evening I said to Master, "I think you need to punish me again Master."
"What did you do now boy?" He responded in an annoyed tone.
"I'm really sorry Sir. I wasn't thinking. Clayton made a demeaning comment about me to someone at the gym and I said something to him about it," I explained. "He got pretty mad. I apologized to him and told him it wouldn't happen again."
"OK," Master said. "Let's try out the new paddle." I retrieved the paddle from my bedroom and presented it to Master. "You decide how many. But it had better be enough or your punishment will be worse."
I hated this. I had no idea what to say. I thought about it and figured I deserved twenty-five. "Twenty-five Sir," I answered.
"Twenty-five it is," he said.
I assumed the position for my punishment. Master's arms are incredibly powerful and he really let me have it. The pain was nearly unbearable. When he was finished, I thanked him for the punishment that I deserved. I would have to learn to control my mouth.
I was back in Master's garage Saturday afternoon. Joe came out and just said, "Keys," to me. I handed them over without a word. "Toilet needs flushing," he added. "Take care of that would ya?" He said with a smirk.
I went into the bathroom and sure enough, I found two turds floating in yellow water and the room smelling of his shit. I dutifully flushed it away. Great, now Joe had me tending to his shit.
When he got home that evening he stuck his head in my door and dropped off the keys without a thank you. Then he threw me a bag full of his dirty baseball uniform and under gear. "I'll pick those up tomorrow morning," he said knowing that I would have them laundered by the time he arrived. Joe was getting very comfortable using me.
As I did Joe's laundry, I reflected on my recent mistakes. I thought I knew how to be a good slave but I had been making a lot of stupid errors. I resolved to be more automatic when responding to orders from dominant men and I knew I had to learn to control my mouth. A submissive never challenges a superior man. I knew I could do better and was determined to do so.
Next part is in progress. Thanks to those who have sent emails and suggestions. Your emails fuel the desire to write.
Email: cmhsub@yahoo.com Yahoo instant messenger: cmhsub