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I Hate My Master (24)

“Fuck.” I said under my breath. Chris had just left, and I was at the door looking at what had been left to me. Timmy had put them out last night. The tight pants and pastel pink shirt was horribly bad, but what caused that word to come out of my mouth was the pink panties. I was macho enough to wear pink, and I had bragged about fucking chicks enough most would think I would be on the prowl tonight after work. Then I stopped. I must have seemed very strange to everyone the last few weeks. Were my co-workers questioning my sexuality? Could the hair have pushed them over the edge to thinking I liked cock now? Were they all laughing at me behind my back? Was the one place I mostly escaped Chris now tainted and no refuge? Was there no place I could turn for relief?

I pulled the panties on. Silky. I thought about how I’d love to take them off a girl. Never put them on. Never wear them. But I had been ordered to wear what was laid out, I had no choice. The shirt showed my pecs, and the pants left no doubt that I was packing. I stepped outside. The sun instantly started to warm my skin, but not as much as the embarrassment of what I had on.

The hair was bad enough. I felt like a fag in this get up. I wanted pussy, everyone would think I wanted dick. I drove to work. Every mile was like more weight on me. Everyone would have a thought, a gay thought about me. I had to live with it, like I had to live with all the other shit in my life.

Walking through the door dressed like this was worse than a new hairstyle, of course. I got looks. Not only looks, smirks. I felt like a piece of meat, even by those who I know would have no interest in fucking me. I felt my reputation go down several pegs walking to my desk. The women were looking at me like I was a stripper at a trailer park bachelorette party. I felt exposed, would it be any worse if I had marched in here naked and hard? Fuck, I hope Chris never had that thought. I’d be fired on the spot. Chris had pushed his way into every corner of my life. I had no escape. I tried, I ran over how I could get out of this in my mind over and over again, but there was no way. No one, no matter how clever, could find a way out of the fix I was in.

I sat at my desk and had to fight to concentrate on my work. I thought everyone was watching me, judging me. I felt myself shaking, something else I needed to hide from everyone. I glanced up to see Zane looking in my direction. He had seen me yesterday in the gym. He knew my pubes were dyed and I had to face the fact he must know what I had been sucking off a pair of dudes minutes before. I’d been able to put him in some bad positions at work, to make him look like he had screwed up in front of our boss. What must be going through his mind. He had to be laughing inside, plotting revenge. I had to be sure he didn’t talk to Mike, and fuck my life if he ever met Chris. I got up and went to the washroom at that thought. Zane meeting Chris, and finding out I was a slave. He’d gloat like no one ever before. I would be the target and Zane would take out all his frustrations on me. I held my head in my hands. Mike made work bad enough, Zane seeing me like this made it unbearable. I breathed heavy, smelling the cleaning solution and the faint stink that was expected in here.

I stood up, crouching as I feared my breakfast was going to come up. I fought to keep it down. With supreme effort, I keep my stomach filled. My next step was to go back out there. I had to do my job. I had to face everyone again. I had to force myself to go out. It was supremely difficult to do. I had to work, and do my best as part of Chris’s programming. It was as bad going to my desk again as it was the first time. I struggled to concentrate on work. I kept looking around covertly. I saw some people look over at me. I was sure chats and emails were going around about me. I saw Zane around as well. He was watching me. Zane was forming plans. I had no idea what, but he was planning something. I couldn’t choke down lunch. About 2:30, I was walking and Zane was coming toward me, he pointedly looked up and down at me. My stomach flipped. He didn’t say anything, simply smirked at me. It was like a gut punch.

I didn’t have an opportunity to screw Zane over in front of the bosses, so I got no satisfaction on that front. I didn’t even really dislike him. I had taken an opening when it presented to get him smacked down some. That and he was doing well, so I wanted to knock out his rise before he became real competition.

“Love the get up.” Mike sneered into my ear. He was going to see the pink panties when I stripped for cocksucking practice. That was going to be humiliating. And was it ever. Arriving at that place, Mike and Jim were arrared on the sofa, wicked smiles on their faces. “Do a strip tease.” Mike cocked his chin at me. While Jim hit a button on his phone and grinding music started to play.

“Yes, Sir.” I kicked off my shoes and began to move my hips. I ran my hands up my body, thighs to face, down to undo the button in my shirt. Opening it more and more and feeling my chest, then abs all the time my hips swaying back and forth. I was giving them sexy looks, licking my lips, blowing kisses. The shirt was tossed to the side as I turned around and bent over, wiggling my ass at them. I rose up, doing an up and down movement with my butt. I did not want to remove my pants, they were going to roll with laughter. I got my belt off and looped it through my crotch, pulling is back and forth like I was riding it before also tossing it aside. I undid the button on my pants, pulled down the zipper and turned around again. At least I could reveal this without facing them. Fuck, it was time. Hands at my hips I pushed the pants down and revealed the pink panties.

Blasts of laughter from the men. I knew my face matched the shade of the panties. I struggled to get my tight pants off, having to sit on the floor to pull them off. At least I could avoid their faces for a few seconds more. Once off, I had to get up, and I did, running my hands over the back of my calves, thighs, and butt. I squeezed my ass cheeks together. “Shake that money-maker!” Jim shouted at me.

I obeyed, of course. Shaking my ass covered in pink panties so they could laugh at me more. I looked down my body, my dick was hard, straining the material and showing a wet spot where I was leaking pre-cum. How was I turned on? How was I boned up and leaking? I was crushed on the inside. I had to appear to the men like I was into all of this, not that my mind agreed. My body showed the appearance of loving all of it.

The pre-cum stain was brazenly obvious and it was going to be noticed. “Squeeze those cheeks together.” Mike ordered. I did as I was told, flexing my ass muscles so they could see the panties.

“Look at that crack eating up those pretty panties. Like it eats up our cocks.” Jim joked. “Turn around.”

It suddenly struck me that they didn’t know about my dyed pubes. I had to turn around with my dick bulging the panties obscenely. It sent them into now howls of hysterics. “He’s got colors!” Jim cackled. I was still dancing, my hands going over my body and my hips moving to the music. I still had a smile on my face, like I was enjoying the attention.

“Look at who’s all wet!” Mike grabbed his sides.

“Taste it bitch, you whore.” Jim made motions like he was jerking a huge dick. I had to obey, scooping over the front and getting a bit on my finger that then went into my mouth as I sucked on it seductively. More laughter as I continued my performance and they had the time of their lives. My hands went over my junk, I felt the panties pull on my boner, how the fabric pulled on other parts of my crotch, an additional reminder of my degradation.

“Look at the colors in his patch!” Mike was holding his sides. My boner was stretching and displaying my rainbow pubes. I was humiliated like never before. How did Chris keep orchestrating pushing me lower and lower?

I kept the stripper routine on, until one of them gave me a signal to approach. I did to be sat on Mike’s lap. I grinded against his legs, knowing his big cock was hard. I felt up his chest. Jim stood on the couch shoving his pants down. I knew my duty and took his cock in my mouth and started sucking.

“Don’t stop grinding you skanky whore.” Mike leaned back. I had to deliver an expert head job while rubbing my hands and body on Mike. It was tough as Jim slapped my head every time I did something he didn’t like or was not exactly as he wanted it. It was incredibly difficult to do two different things at the same time, and please both of them.

Jim finished up by grabbing my head and throwing some quick fucks into my face. He flopped down as Mike pushed me onto Jim’s lap “Now show him a good time.” I had to keep grinding. Mike wasn’t going to go without his blowjob. I had no real break before I was at my difficult task again. No breaks for me. Now in addition to the grinding and sucking, I was tired. Long day with this at the end. Well, not the end, more to come. I was a sex toy to them. Hell, they probably would take better care of a sex toy. I was nothing to them. Only a way to get off, someone to humiliate.

Mike cumming in my mouth brought me back to the present. He sat on the back of the sofa, resting against the wall. Jim let me continue to rub on his lap, my hands on his body. The grin on his face was pure evil, the one on mine was ecstatic.

Finally Jim pushed me off “Get your panties on and get out of here.”

“Yes, Sir.” I picked up the hated pink panties, slipping them on. The pre-cum had not completely dried, dirty pink panties. I was such a tool.

After I stripped at the door of Chris’s house, he yelled to me to stuff the panties into my mouth crotch first. I shouted back “Yes, Master.” Obeyed, and crawled to the kitchen to make his dinner. The whole time I could taste my pre-cum and ball sweat on the fabric. Or was it my mind putting the taste there?

I finished dinner, and stood with my cuffs on and the panties still in my mouth. Towards the end I was ordered to take the panties out of my mouth, wrap them around my dick and wank off, capturing the cum in the fabric. That wasn’t too bad, certainly not as bad as having to put them on again right after, cum still wet. It had been a while since I had last been allowed to shoot, so I had quite a bit stored up. The cum was cold on my skin, spots randomly on my skin where it clung.

Getting up from the table with a laugh Chris ordered me to leave things and crawl after him. He sat on the softa, put his feet up (on the actual coffee table) and ordered me to caress them like they were my boyfriend. “Be all sweet and loving. Like on a romantic date with candles and shit.”

I did, blowing on his feet, little kisses, and stroking them. I knew what he was doing, making me act like the woman on a date. Only the date was with his feet, and I was only wearing panites I had cum in. He left me doing this for a couple hours. For some reason, I was hyper-aware of the cum slowly drying on the panties I was wearing. I couldn’t concentrate on whatever Chris was watching on TV, and my foot making-out was pretty automatic, so I seemed able to feel the cum crusting next to my skin.

My tongue moved lightly between each groove, then returned going deeper. I laid little kisses on each toe. Tongue swirls all over the tops, then sides, finally bottoms. I used my fingers to lightly brush over the skin of my dates. The pads, then the nails, not to scratch, but the movement is sexy. More light kisses all over both soles. Little licks of the tongue inside little kisses.

Bigger, wetter kisses that slid over his feet. Moving my lips like they were traveling, Undulations of the lips over his skin. I couldn’t release from touching him. Covering every inch of his foot with my lips, full contact. Letting nothing escape. Breathing in the scent. Like you would the hair of your lover.

I couldn’t just lick them, this was supposed to be simply foot worship, it was a date with them. All the tiny things you would do with your mouth if you were in a corner booth in a dark restaurant. Or after very sensual lovemaking. I had two dates, two feet to pleasure. I had to go from one to another. Lavishing each one with attention, intimate attention so they would feel so appreciated by me.

My lips and tongue went to every part of his feet. Kissing all over the ankles, over the bones and the hollows by the heels. Up the soles, over the toes, past the upper arch and then down the outside.

Foot licking is tongue over everything. My orders were more complicated, lip motion and light tongue. It’s not easy, it requires a lot of concentration. And it went on and on. Chris could make me do this as long as he wanted. Under his fucking mind control, I would do this until I fell over. I was obsessed because he wanted it.

When Chris decided it was time for him to go to bed, he ordered me to clean the kitchen and sleep in the panties. All I could do was say “Yes, Master.” and obey.

The next morning wasn’t any better, in fact it was worse. Not only the faggy clothes.

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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