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I Hate My Master (13)

I was left for target practice for a long time. I only got out of my position to restock the darts, or to fetch drinks. Chris and Rob just talked, and I didn’t even try to pay attention to what they went over. I just stood there in misery. I was such a tool, an object, just a playtoy for them. I couldn’t believe how my life had turned out. I used to be a big shot, getting girls to fuck (pretty easily as well). Now, I crawled around, got fucked, sucked dick. How far I had fallen. If I could just escape Chris’s control, I knew I could get my life back. Beat up that pissant Mike to keep him quiet. Move. But I couldn’t find a way to get out. So I was stuck.

My balls hurt. They ached deep and I can’t believe they did all that to me. Pulling weights, hopping with weights. What hurt even worse than the physical pain was the fact they had made me do it just by ordering me too. I had no ability to resist them, as standing here getting shot with little toy guns proved.

Chris got up and went into the house. Rob shot at me, as he no longer had conversation to distract him. I was picking up the most recent round when Chris came back out. He snapped his fingers and pointed to a spot just in front of him. “Kneel here.” He was standing by the chair he had occupied before.

“Yes, Master.” I obeyed. Chris started to take off my collar. I knew better than to think it would be good for me.

“Time for a new collar.” Chris said, putting a new one on. So far, not any worse. Chris sat back on his chair. I was kneeling before the two men. Chris moved his thumb on an object in his hand and suddenly an electric bolt shot through me from the neck. I fell to the ground, screaming.

They both laughed. I was clawing at my collar trying to get it off. My fingers wouldn’t work on it. I dimly knew that I was under orders to wear a collar at the house, so I wouldn’t be allowed by my own body to take it off.

“Stop trying to get it off asshole. Kneel back up.” Chris ordered.

“Yes, Master. What is this thing?” I was surly.

“It’s your new shock collar. It replaces your old one from now on. It’s purpose is two-fold. One, I can just zap you anytime I want.” His thumb moved and I shuddered. “Secondly, it’s hooked up to your phone. When you get a text, it will go off. You’ll need to check your phone then. See, I’ve set up a Dial-A-Fag service. You’re the fag.”

Rob chuckled “I was wondering how you were going to do that.”

Chris continued, after giving Rob a conspiratorial wink. “The guys from the other night all have your number. Anytime they want you, they will send a text. You’ll do anything they want. And I mean anything. Plus you will be happy to service them, and enthusiastic.”

“Master, I can’t do that. They’ll have me running everywhere.” I said back.

“Not my problem. Your problem. You will find a way to do everything. They don’t have to worry about your schedule. You do. If you are late or are sucking someone else off, it’s up to you to find a way to make it up the the man. You will even offer to let them punish you. By the way, none of this reduces your duties around here. Or to me. You will keep it up. If I want to fuck you and you’re off servicing some other dude, you will have to deal with the consequences.” Chris had an evil grin on his face as he laid down my new rules.

“Master, that will be impossible. I’ll never be able to do it all.” I was near panic. Chris used me a lot, and I had to keep up the house and be sure he got his meals. Not to mention being whatever sexual plaything he wanted at whatever time he felt like. Shit! What would happen to me? Plus what if someone texted me while I was at work?

“Again, not my problem slave.” Chris said, with a note of finality. “Just do it. Strong man like you it shouldn’t be a problem.”

The collar shocked me again. I crumbled. Chris hadn’t hit the button. What was it? Damn, it must be a text.

“You can go get your phone.” Chris said, glancing at his. “That was Travis. He’s first in line for Dial-A-Fag.” I must have had a puzzled looked on my face as I got up, because he continued. “I tapped into your phone. I know what texts you get and send. Now get going, you don’t want to keep a man waiting. I was nice to you. I loaded their addresses in.”

“Yes, Master.” I rushed to get to my phone. The message was from Travis “Just did a run, got a nasty case of swamp-ass. Get over here and take care of it before my shower.”

My fingers flew in response “Yeah! I’m so looking forward to it BRT!!!” I groaned to myself. How stupid I must seem. I got into shorts and a tee shirt, put on some tennis shoes and headed for my car. I used the GPS to go to Travis’s apartment.

Dreading what I was about to do, I climbed the stairs, then knocked on the door. A moment later it opened. As it did, a smile grew on my face. When I saw Travis, I said, not wanting to but as ordered “I’m so glad I’ll be able to do something for you. I’ll take good care of your swamp-ass, I promise.” I went in and dropped to my knees, shuffling to get to his backside.

Travis was still in his running shorts, but wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had a great body. He seemed to do more weight lifting than running. “Get at it, boy.” Travis said, closing the door.

“Yes, Sir!” I stuck my nose into his crack through the fabric, taking a big whiff. I wanted to gag, but instead my hands reached up to peel down his shorts. When I got them past his knees, I put my face into his crack and started licking. Big, long licks. I was cleaning out swamp-ass, not pleasuring a hole.

I worked earnestly to clean up every bit of sweat he had between his cheeks. From the sounds I was making, you would have thought I was having the best meal of my life. My mind was recoiling from my actions, but there was nothing I could do about it. Travis seemed to be enjoying it as well, based on the sounds of pleasure coming out of him.

I went at him for a while, getting every inch of his skin in and around his crack. I even reached and lapped up around his taint. I couldn’t stop until he decided I could, so I just kept going.

“OK, that’s enough. Get out, I’ve got a fuck buddy coming over in half an hour.” Travis pulled away, just walked out of his shorts and was heading towards his bathroom.

I got up and reached for the door. “Thank you for using me, Sir. Please text me anytime you want anything.” I sounded so faggy. Well, I guess that was the point. He didn’t even turn around or say anything. I let myself out.

Back in my car, I just sat there, my head bowed. I felt so fucking low. I had been ordered to this guy’s place to lick out his ass and was just dismissed when he was through with me. My balls still hurt. I was in a situation I could not escape from, having to obey half a dozen men in any way they wanted.

Almost unconsciously, I started up the car and headed back to the house I shared with Chris. I took my time, not even hitting the speed limit. I seemed to be able to do this much. Little victories, I guess. My phone pinged with a text. Fuck. I glanced at it, and pulled into a parking lot to read it. Josh was using the Dial-A-Fag service that I did all the work for: “I need to fuck someone. And bring me a six-pack of beer.”

“& I need a FUCKING! Beer & ass OTW!” My texts were so stupid. I switched my direction to his place and stopped at a store to get a six-pack of beer. Damn, I was going to deliver my ass and booze on a plate. I was pathetic.

I pulled into a spot outside of Josh’s building. I grabbed the beer and started for his door. I felt like shit, but when the door opened, my face broke into a wide grin, and I lifted the beer up to my face “Guess what comes with this?”

Josh gave an amused half-laugh. He was looking at me like I would to an 18 year old trying to pick me up. You know the kind, the ones who have had sex once or twice and can’t hold in the the idea that they might fuck a real man. I felt like a fool. A total fool.

I took the beer to the fridge, pulling one out to deliver to Josh, who had lounged on the couch, one leg on the floor, the other up to the far armrest.

I handed him the beer, “I’m so excited you’re going to fuck me. I want you to really ram it into me.” I was pulling off my clothes, he must think I’m raring to go. He looked at me over his bottle like I was amusing him. I kept up the amusement by shaking my dick and moving my fingers to my ass “I need you in me, please fuck me!” I pumped my meat to show him I was serious.

“Get my pants off.” He said so calmly, like he didn’t have a horny whore naked in front of him.

“Yeah!” I knelt down and started pulling them off. He had a condescending look on his face, enjoying his dominance over me. I pulled on his pants like I was desperate. “Gotta get these off, gotta get fucked.”

Josh gave another half-laugh. His cock was out, I dove for it and put the whole thing in my mouth, since it wasn’t fully hard yet. I got to work, and he responded quickly. It’s one thing to get your dick sucked, it’s another to have someone desperately sucking it. It would put any man on top of the world. We all like to think our penis is the center of the universe, and it really puts the bone in it when someone is treating it like that. I was slobbering all over it like it was the tastiest thing I’d ever had. I was making the sluttiest noises over it, gobbling on it, forcing it deep in my throat, licking it, gagging. My hands braced me as I worshipped his meat. I hated what I was doing, I hated Josh for having the dick I was sucking, and I really hated Chris for making me do all this.

I put more into my work, he just laid back and took it, swigging on his beer. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Well, he didn’t know the torture this all was for me, so what did it matter to him? I pushed down and stayed with this cock lodged in my throat, my nose on his pubes. I noticed he trimmed, so it wasn’t a wild bush. I coughed forcing my face to stay in his crotch, finally coming up only when I had to have some air.

When I went to get back on, he pushed me away “Bend over that arm.” He indicated the side of the couch. I virtually slung myself over it, reaching back to pull my ass cheeks apart.

“Put it in, I need a good fuck so bad.” I wiggled my ass.

“Crazy bitch.” He used one hand to hold me still and another to guide is big prong into me. He didn’t stop putting it in until he was fully sheathed in me. He just stayed there, taking his hand off my back. I started to grind around. He let me work on his cock a bit then began to pull back and push in with some real force. Air escaped my lungs the first time, and I had to struggle to get my breathing in a pattern that matched his thrusts. He wasn’t concerned about if I liked it or got any pleasure, he was just out for a fuck. My hard cock was crushed on the fabric of the couch arm. Damn Chris, he had ordered me to be hard when I serviced guys, so I was, no matter how uncomfortable it was at times like this.

Josh leaned over me, putting even more power behind his pistoning of my ass. I was having to brace against whatever I could to keep in place. It was like he was going to war on my ass. Really ripping into it. I was letting grunts out like a pig. I felt his hand grab the back of my neck and squeeze. He couldn’t choke me that way, so it just hurt.

His whole body was into it. This wasn’t just the usual hip-fucking, every pound of him, every muscle was into it. He was like ocean waves in a storm, slamming into me over and over again. I was being rutted out like a cheap bitch. I swear the sofa moved. He increased speed. I don’t know how, he was already going so fast. Then he started shooting in me. His thrusts went from fast and deep to just deep. When he stopped, he just stopped. I didn’t move. I was too short of breath to say anything.

Josh’s dick came out of my ass with an audible pop, and he crashed back on the couch. I knew my duty, and moved around to clean his cock off. I hated this part. I hated all the parts. As I finished, I was circling my tongue on the tip of of his dick and I looked up at him. “Thank you for fucking me.”

“Yeah. I’m done. Get me a beer and get out.” Josh dismissed me like he was deleting a watched show on the DVR.

“You bet!” I bounced up. Sheez, why was I having to be so happy about all this. I got his beer and served it to him. I rushed to put on my clothes and head for the door. “Don’t forget, I’m Dial-A-Fag, and just a text away!” Josh just waved at me like I was a bug.

Once on the other side of the door, my chipper attitude evaporated. I trudged to my car. How much of my time was going to be taken up servicing these guys? And I had to do all the stuff Chris assigned me at the house as well. My programming wouldn’t let me shirk any of it, so it would have to get done.

I made it to the house. Both Rob and Chris’s cars were gone. I let myself in, stripped and put my new shock collar on. I let out a sigh. Even though I was alone in the house, I had duties. I needed to get to cleaning. I had to make sure I had all of it done as soon as possible in case I got called away again. I hated Chris.

To be continued …

Max Potter
Max Potter
Max Potter discovered an interest in domination and slavery at a very early age. First reading about historical accounts of slaves, that eventually turned to an interested in the Dom/sub culture. A voracious reader, he see dominance and submission in many passages. When a friend gives up something, when a man takes a metaphorical blow for someone else. When one will is subjected to another. For his writing, he looks for the unusual situation. It could be total reluctance on the part of the sub, or innovative commands given. Always on the lookout for a novel idea, he can be contacted at his Gmail account as maxrpotter.

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