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Two months later. I had no memory of what it was like to not be a slave. I existed only to obey my Master.
After my week of urinal service Master now had confidence that I would be able to effectively serve his clients , and bring in some money. As with the other slaves I did so without complaint, knowing that our best work was a reflection of Master's brilliance and power.
I had gone through two sets of business cards which I had handed out to men who I had considered dominant and would benefit from the service I and the others could provide.
In my old life I was a slut, but never really took the time to differentiate between a Top and Dominant. My brief service with Master had resulted in me being able to differentiate between the two quite quickly. Dominants had a certain aura of power, they did not necessarily have to be what I would have previously called Straight Acting, or Masculine.
Their ability to dominate came from the way they carried themselves, and they all had that look, which basically said. I'm in charge.
Over the past two months I had handed out cards to impeccably dressed men on the way to work in the city, workmen in their bright orange overalls, two platform supervisors on the Victoria line and a couple of nerdish looking students . Each one of them had something about them that said that they were my superiors. I should rephrase that unowned men are for the most part my superiors, these men were extra superior.
That morning Master served us a breakfast of cold porridge made out of piss and spit. Piss that Phil had collected during a punishment session the previous day, apparently his teeth were again a problem. So Master had instructed him to report to the warden of a local park. A park well known for cruising and glory holes. He was given two 10 litre containers, which he was expected to fill.
He was instructed to ask who ever entered to piss into the container, in exchange for a blow job. Once full he had to carry them home, and back again into the office, In full view so there was no doubt that he was carting piss all the way from Islington to the centre of town.
After we had eaten he said he had an update on Rover, you remember him used to be known as Mike. Been with Mac in South Africa for almost three months. Mac has sent me an update.
Listen he said as he read an email off his iPhone.
I was prepared for him to be useless but he really was, but fifty lashes a day for the first week soon sorted that out. He's still not that good with eating dog food, but we found a solution, liquidise it, and make him drink it. Goes down quickly. For the first three days he puked it up but once he understood that he'd have to eat up the puke he soon controlled his stomach.
He sleeps outside, either on the porch, or sometimes the stables with the horses and farm dogs.
He hasn't worn clothes since we arrived, has been on all fours almost continuously, his hand locked in paw like gloves, for now he's got knee pads on, but I'm planning on removing them shortly.
The only time he is allowed to stand, and his hands are free are when he's in the gym, I don't want him losing that muscle that he had, in fact I want him bigger.
You'll be pleased to know I've got him drinking three pints of piss a day. One horse, one cow and one human. I make him beg for the latter. I know you get slaves to beg by telling you how wonderful you are, Me I'm the opposite, he begs by telling me how awful he is. The more he tells me how pathetic, worthless , useless and undeserving he is the more I like it.
That piss he drinks, he thinks it's mine, rarely is, usually from my wife, or sometimes from her friends when they come over for morning coffee. I'm hoping all that oestrogen will plump up his breast a bit
Oh those coffee mornings. I get him to entertain the women.
There he is on all fours barking, or lying on his back getting his belly tickled. They find it hilarious seeing a muscular white man with his locked cage. The fact that he was once a ladies man amuses them, they get him to take it in turn to worship their dainty feet removing the dead flaky skin from their heels giggling as he does so. All expect Jennifer, a Misters in the making , she's more sadistic , she stuffs her panties in his mouth and then proceeds to fuck his hole with her feet, only when she is satisfied does she allow him mouth anywhere near her feet.
Over the next few months I'm planning on getting him tattooed all over, just because I can, and once his breasts are bigger those tits will need a bit of work. So plenty of fun ahead, and remember if you want to sell any of your other slaves I'm sure we can come to an agreed price. A gift too Jennifer, perhaps, a nice gayboy forced to be the slave of a busty black woman, hopefully she'd let me play occasionally. It would be perfect
With that Master , put the phone in his pocket. Remember slaves serve me well, or you`ll end up nose deep in a woman's cunt.
Yes Master we said in unison, each of us silently pledging to obey and serve him without hesitation.