OWNED At Last -Three bamaboi2serve
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The months passed and the packages flowed from my little Post Office to His.
He loved ordering me to send photos of what i was wearing on a particular day, and then demanding i send them to Him. As Summer ended, the clothes moved into warmer long-sleeved hoodies and even a pair of jeans. With each package a required porn video was included, and he increasingly wanted printed pictures of me, so as to save Him from having to pay for the expensive ink cartridges in his printer. I tried to add something unexpected to surprise Him.
i was getting better at taking cell phone pictures of bois and men in public, and he would chastise me if i returned from a shopping trip with none at all for Him.
i had never told him my real name, nor where i worked my two jobs, btu i suspected he was getting to know me more and more each day.
i finally gave in and sent him the log-on information to my XTube account as the cold weather set in. What point was there in keeping it from Him, i asked myself. As he had told me to do, in wrote it out and included it in a package of clothes i had worn one Saturday...including a new jockstrap for Him.
i knew all of the clothing looked better on Him than on me. His Hot Ass much better framed by the jock straps, his chest and arms stretching the tanks and shirts i sent him. His cock in the cock rings i sent also looked more appropriate on Him than on me.
Meanwhile i considered using a different post office, to avoid the stares and smirks of the young clerk who seemed to be there every time i visited. But when i asked Him if i could do so, He said no. Then one afternoon i discovered why.
He had tracked down the local PO location and called one day, recognizing the young male voice as the must-be clerk i had told Him about.
The next time i went to mail him a package, the clerk, about 6' 2" with jet black straight hair and a two-day beard growth, looked at me and casually asked if the jock straps were clear or dirty.
i was so shocked, i stood there with my mouth open saying nothing.
"BITCH!", he yelled, ARE THEY CLEAN OR DIRTY?" he demanded as i looked behind me, realizing i was the only customer in the middle of the afternoon.
"Dirty," i mumbled.
|"Look at me!" he demanded, and i did.
" Come behind this counter and kneel down."
i was in a trance or something, and followed his orders immediately, walking around
the counter and positioning myself on my knees facing him, hidden from the customers who now started entering. He unzipped his pants and within seconds i was busy sucking him off. He was big! My mouth and throat were quickly filled, my lips against his trimmed pubesm and minutes later he was pumping his seed deep into my throat. He ordered me to look at him and when i turned my face he, he dribbled a long stream of his saliva across my face and hair.
His name was Trent, but from that day on i was required to call Him Trent Sir, in private or in public, and aloud too. It made people look curiously at me when i came to him to mail a package and called him that.
Trent Sir was skinny, underweight actually, and did not really have the kind of Hot Ass my Sir did. He was younger than either of us, but seemed anxious to please Him, and to abuse me.
He had explained that my Master out West had called one day, telling him who He was---and who i was---and that Trent could get in on a good thing if he was interested. He was, and now i was not only serving a Master from afar, but his stand-in right down the street.
It complicated my life but kept me hard almost all of the time.
Master would order me to wear certain plugs or clamps or clothes, to piss myself or cum and smear it on my face, and Trent Sir would be able to confirm that i was obeying when i crawled under His counter to serve Him. Sometimes there were customers at the counter as i was sucking him off, trying not to make too much noise. He would reach down and grab my head, skull fucking me even as he spoke to some customer about the postage rate to Indonesia.
Then he started taking pictures of me underneath the counter and sending them to far-off Sir. They clearly showed my face, Trent Sir cock buried deep, bulging out my cheeks, and i feared they would show up on the Tumblr page...though so far they had not.
Trent Sir would press his booted foot onto my crotch and stomp my own cock to the dirty floor as i services him.
If there were no customers, he would ask"Who is your Master shitface?" And i would mumble through my stuffed mouth "Sir is", referring to Sir out West. He knew the right pecking order and always respected Him, making sure i was being obedient. He was like a trained shepherd guard dog, ensuring the bitch flock did as told.
If it was after lunch when i came to Trent Sir to mail another package of clothes and porn and pics and sex toys to Sir, he would demand i stay in place after he had cum, pissing into my mouth to relieve himself of the morning coffee or soda. The first time it happened i gagged a bit and spilled some of his piss on the ground. He made sure i was on the floor licking it clean before i left. i never spilled any again.
Sir started to get jealous of Trent Sir...after all, he was getting to actually use me physically while He had to put up with just my tribute gifts of jock straps and porn and underwear and stuff.
Soon He would find a solution to that.
[Readers: visit our Tumblr page at http://bamaboi2serve.tumblr.com/. If you write to us on that page, please know that it will go to Sir for a possible response. If you write to me at bamaboi2serve@charter.net i will sent it to Him first, and IF he permits, i will write back.]