It was day four of Master's test to see which of us he would be taking to Paris. It was approaching 6 pm and I was knackered. For the fourth day running I had spent the day boot blacking, boot and foot worshipping , having my hole stretched by Master's fuck Machine, the dildo that invaded me today made my eyes water bu just looking at it. This morning Scott was unable to make it instead Dave had brought Mark the twenty something sadist from the wedding. As well as sporting a couple of bruises from his stomping during my boot worshipping session my stomach and bladder were full of his piss. I was desperate to piss but had been summoned to Master for my final challenge of the day.
Identifying Master's socks and jockstrap. As in the previous three days a bag of socks and jockstraps was upended in front of me, only one pair of socks, and one jock had been worn by him. As all slaves had at some stage worshipped Masters socks, or sucked his dick through the cloth barrier of a jockstrap, we were blindfolded for this task to ensure we didn't base our selection on sight alone Of these tasks this had been the one i generally looked forward to, getting close to the musky smell not only of Master but Dave, Scott Mark , and I was informed the men who earlier in my slave existence had been responsible for turning me into the hairless creature I now was.
Let's see how you do today.
I heard a bag unzip, and the content spill on the floor.
I gingerly stretched my hands in front of me, my hands suddenly withdrew in shock, the socks were at most damp , but this time they were soaking wet.
Ha! Said Master. I've added an extra part to the challenge. The owners have also pissed on their clothing. Let's see if you can identify mine by my piss too.
I resumed by again lifting up, the first sock that came to hand, and inhaled. Acre, and rather nasty. Not Masters. The same with the second and third. The fourth was sweeter, I stuck out my tongue, it had a familiar taste. I put it to one side. I repeated this with the remaining clothes, smelling, and occasionally tasting. When I had narrowed down the possible candidates to three pairs of socks and four jocks. I repeated the process, inhaling deeply and a more in depth taste test. Sucking out some of the moisture in an attempt to help me reach a decision. Having been used as a urinal by so many over the last few months has the unfortunate result that I was now unable to properly identify clothing soaked in my Master, golden nectar.
I could hear Master's boots began to tap on the floor, time was running out. In a panic I picked up two socks and a jockstrap,
Master, these are yours Sir.
I felt them being taken out of my hand, and within a minute or two I heard a zipping sound. The clothes being put back in the bag I assumed.
Then a second zipping, or more accurately unzipping. A hard slap across my face, It was Master s dick.
Open.
I opened and felt my mouth being invaded, his dick lay along my tongue. Although I was blindfolded I closed my eyes, as if in a prayer of thanks knowing what was to come. A slow trickle at first then a torrent.
Finally it stopped, Master withdrew his dick. And took off my blindfold.
As he stuffed his dick pack inside his leather trousers, he spoke.
Still think you made the right choice?
Follow me.
I joined the other slaves in the kitchen.
Ok that's the end of the challenge. Tomorrow I will announce the slave accompanying me to Paris.
Dave, Mark. Thanks for everything. I've enjoyed the last few days immensely.
Thanks Ed, said Dave, So have I. I'm looking forward to getting to know the losers a better next week, when you are away.
He looked at me when he said this, without a hint of a smile. His cold blue eyes drilled into me.