by Danny Tyran
All afternoon, I got the same tantalizing torment as in the morning. My master stroked my cock or ordered me to masturbate. Then he left me fully aroused. Several times, I offered to return the favor and more, but perhaps he was saving his cock for our visitor’s hand or mouth.
Shortly before the scheduled arrival time, my master instructed me to give myself enemas the same way as I had earlier in the day. When I completed the triple torture session—by myself this time—I understood the need for this. I had eaten yesterday and today, and my gut was certainly not as clean as it had been this morning. I even added the perfumed salts to the last enema and had a shower afterward, taking the opportunity to get rid of all the sweat of my workday. Only our visitor was missing.
When the doorbell rang, I hurried to open the door to our guests. My master told me I didn’t need to put any clothes on, as Kathy knew what our situation was and was used to being surrounded by naked slaves. That information wasn’t very reassuring.
I greeted her at the door when she entered. She was tiny. No more than five feet. She had an impish little face, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief and black, braided hair. Her eyes assessed me from head to foot, then turned to my master, who had just joined us.
“Toi, grand démon! Comment t’y prends-tu pour toujours trouver des esclaves d’une telle qualité?” Kathy questioned in French, but with a strong English accent.
“Attends un peu avant de juger, Kathy.”
“Je te connais bien, James. Ne me dis pas qu’il n’a aucun potentiel. Si c’était le cas, il ne serait pas ici.”
I watched them bicker about me as if I wasn’t standing right there, holding the door of the living room open for them. They ended up kissing and followed me inside. As she passed by me, our visitor gave me a light slap on my cock. I smiled at her. She could use me as she pleased; that was what my master had told her on the phone.
I thought I’d need to dress in order to fetch her luggage from the car, but a young man, a little taller than me, with reddish hair and green eyes, opened the front door and entered with his lady’s suitcases. He wore livery very similar to mine. So he was either a slave or a servant. The former option seemed the most likely.
He gave me a haughty look, as if I was nothing more than the plug I had in me this morning. He walked by me while I watched him, puzzled, the door of the living room still open. He knocked my semi-erect dick with one of his mistress’ bags. Obviously, he did it on purpose. I didn’t understand why he was acting that way, seeing he didn’t even know me.
I showed him into the guest room and hastened to rejoin the masters. “Would you like something to eat or drink, Ma’am? Sir?”
She replied, “Beer.”
“The same as usual, Max,” my master added.
I had purchased wine and champagne for her visit. The champagne was already on ice, and she wanted a beer! As they continued to talk in English, I went to fetch their drinks. When I returned, the tall fellow slave was back. He stood, arms akimbo, legs in an uncertain position, halfway between at-ease and attention. Nonchalance or lack of discipline? I wondered.
I offered the masters their drinks. “Would you like it in a glass?” I asked the lady.
“Yeah, thanks!”
I poured her beer into a glass I had brought for this purpose, then after giving my master his drink, I adopted the usual position of attention: legs apart and hands behind my back. “Do you wish for anything else, Madam? Master?”
“Yeah. I’d like to play with you, boy,” the lady said. I turned my eyes to my master. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that comment.
“Look. He’s blushing! Oh my! It’s years since I have seen a slave actually blush.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to have fun with him,” assured my master. “Pendant ce temps, je jouerai avec ton grand garçon.”
The big boy in question obviously understood what had been said, and he clearly didn’t like this idea any more than I did.
“Bien sûr, James,” Kathy continued in French.
“Go get us the appetizers, Max,” my master ordered.
While I removed the plastic wrap from my prepared dishes, I looked through the open doorway and saw the “big boy” cautiously walking up to my master. He was answering questions that I couldn’t hear. When I approached with my arms full of food, I heard my master criticize him. “Your mistress surely taught you to stand properly, legs apart and hands joined behind your back.” The young slave adopted the requested posture while watching his mistress as if to ensure she agreed with it.
“Obey him as well as you obey me, Andrew.”
“Did you teach him the dance, Kathy?” my master asked, smiling widely.
“Which dance?”
“THE dance, Kathy. You know very well what dance I’m talking about.”
“Oh, that one.” She turned to her slave. “Do the special dance for James, Andrew.”
Andrew stared at his mistress with his eyes almost bulging out. Apparently, he knew too well which dance they were speaking about, but he didn’t obey.
The lady repeated the instruction.
“Please, no!”
“Do not discuss it with me. Obey, now!”
Andrew shook his head, without showing the slightest intention to obey.
“Andrew! Don’t make me ashamed.”
Andrew’s face was now redder than a rutting macaque’s bottom. I figured that Kathy and all the masters she knew must be very soft with their slaves if they’d never seen them blush. My master had no great difficulty in bringing color to her slave’s cheeks.
Andrew began to move his hips, haltingly, while blubbering with his hands on his face.
“Hands on your neck and move better than that, Andrew,” my master insisted.
The young man threw himself on his knees at the feet of his mistress. My master turned to me. “Put down the tray and dance for us, Max.”
I obeyed. After placing the tray on the coffee table in front of them, I took a few steps back to give myself enough space for my dance and then performed it as a call to love, an erotic ballet, as if my life depended on the absolute perfection of its execution. At the beginning of my dance, Andrew, knelt on the ground, with his head buried in the lap of his mistress. But, as I did my last paces, he turned his head a little and looked at me, catching the last obscene thrusts of my hips.
My master didn’t say a word, but he gave me a little nod and an approving smile.
Kathy stared at my master like a freshman would at a particularly gifted senior. Envy and respect filled her eyes. I was very proud of having created those feelings.
Standing in the appropriate position, I waited for my master’s permission before offering snacks to everyone, even Andrew, who was the only one to refuse. I asked them if they wanted something else. “No, Max. Andrew and you can relax together, as long as you stay within earshot.”
“Yes, Master.”
The idea of chilling out with Andrew didn’t enchant me, but I had no choice. I went to sit on the veranda, leaving only a screen door between the masters and me. I had already put cushions and pillows on the floor, and I sometimes read there in the evenings, or, when he would let me, I wrote about my adventures with my master in my journal. Andrew sat in my master’s favorite armchair.
“No. Don’t sit there. You must sit on the ground.”
“I suppose you’ll report me if I don’t do what you want. You looked like a lewd dancing monk. How can you bear jiggling like that? It’s so...” He shuddered. “It makes me ashamed just thinking about it.”
“What should embarrass you is having shamed your mistress.”
“I’m not ready to let them treat me like that.”
“So you’re not a slave. Forget even trying to be one.”
“Kathy is a good mistress. I think she likes me. I don’t want to leave her. I love her too. Just the idea that she could...”
Kathy’s voice broke into his words, calling Andrew to come back and join them.
I wasn’t sorry to be left alone, sitting in the sun. The evening would probably not be easy, and I wanted to enjoy this respite.
Andrew returned a half an hour later. “All four of us are going to a restaurant. Your master wants you to get dressed. At least, I guess he doesn’t want to see you go out there naked.”
I stored away what remained of the appetizers. Then I put on the business suit my master had given me. Andrew was wearing a leather and suede suit. I didn’t know if I should have dressed in leather, too. But I knew that I made the right choice when I saw that my master was dressed in a business suit as well. Andrew probably wanted to impress, but only managed to detonate. His mistress—dressed in a pretty mini dress with summer tones and patterns, a cloche hat and matching high heels—didn’t comment.
“Doesn’t he anything more appropriate?” my master inquired.
“Andrew. Could you wear something more conservative?”
“Why?”
“Just obey.”
“But...”
A resounding slap interrupted the discussion. Kathy had fire in her eyes.
“Change. Your. Clothes!” she ordered crisply, emphasizing each word.
While we waited for Andrew, I offered drinks to the masters.
“No, thank you, Max,” they replied in unison.
They laughed at their simultaneous responses.
“Est-il toujours comme ça?” my master asked.
“Non. Je t’assure que non. I don’t know what’s the matter with him tonight.”
When Andrew returned looking really attractive in a navy suit, we left for the restaurant. Earlier, I had booked three seats at the best restaurant in the next town, but I imagined that a fourth dinner guest wouldn’t cause a problem.
I drove to the restaurant, paying special attention on the corners. Andrew sulked on the seat beside me. The masters sat in the back, conversing in English. At first, they talked about old times and innocuous topics. Then they started talking about me. My master said that when the time came, he would prepare me for the auction, and he would sell me to the highest bidder. Kathy asked if he wouldn’t want to keep me. “No,” my master replied flatly. He added that he was a trainer, not an owner, and he didn’t want to burden himself with a slave already trained. I swallowed the lump in my throat while Andrew stared at me with a venomous smile.
Kathy directed her next question to me. “Max, don’t you like your master enough to live all your life with him?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’d love to. But if he doesn’t want to keep me, I’ll go wherever he sends me,” I had to force the words around that same big lump in my throat.
“You don’t like him that much, then.”
“I love him a lot. I love him enough to accept his decision whatsoever, Madam,” I replied with a sob, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“You don’t suffer at the idea of breaking up with him?”
If she doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to cry! And I was sure that my master wouldn’t appreciate that. The idea of separation, though still distant, was already torturing me. I could imagine only too well what I’d feel like when the time came. I tried to explain this to her, struggling with each word to stifle my urge to cry. “Yes, Ma’am. I suffer a lot. But I don’t possess him. It’s he who possesses me. I can’t force him to keep me. He can force me to leave whenever he wants. Nothing will change this situation, so I have to submit to it.”
She started talking to my master, telling him she didn’t know what to think of our relationship. She, who had perhaps been in the presence of slaves for years, couldn’t understand us any better than my parents did.
At the restaurant, I pulled up beside the main entrance to let the masters out of the car. I held the door open for Kathy, since it seemed to be the last concern of her own slave, and hurried to the other side of the car to open my master’s door. Then I ran to open the door of the restaurant and gave the name of my master, as I’d made the booking under his name. While an usher led us to our table, I asked my master for permission to park the car elsewhere. He told me to help Kathy into her seat first.
The table was in the back, in a sort of alcove, which guaranteed us a little privacy. I helped Kathy to take her seat, moving it into position while my master sat opposite her. Andrew had chosen the seat at the right hand of his mistress without worrying about the comfort of either of them. I then went to park the car.
During the meal, Kathy played a little game with me. She had taken a sheet of paper out of her bag and torn it into small pieces on which she wrote a single word or phrase in English or French. She handed me a pen, so I could do the same. When she wrote “big hard cock”, I responded with “wet cunt”. She ordered me to keep all the paper scraps in my hand while I ate. It was strange to hold my fork in a hand containing words such as “orgasme”, “big tits”, “slut”, “sperme”, “nice ass”, “sucker”, “désir brûlant”, “surrender”, and so on. I imagined the ink of “wet cunt” and “big hard cock” soaking by the sweat of my palm and mixing together. My cock hardened and stayed hard throughout the meal.
Later, she asked me to give her all the little pieces of paper. She licked and rubbed them against her breasts or her wet crotch. She licked “big hard cock”, rubbed “big breasts” against her nice round small tits and soaked “wet cunt” in her vaginal juices. She then handed them to me, commanding me to chew and swallow them.
Meanwhile, my master questioned Andrew, as he had done with me during our first meetings. At first, Andrew answered haltingly, but understanding little by little that my master wouldn’t criticize his answers, that all that he wanted was honesty, he opened up. But he kept turning his head toward Kathy and me. My flushed face and the trembling of my hands clearly indicated the nature of the messages written by his mistress. Perhaps she had already played her “literary” game with him.
By the time we ordered dessert, my master was talking to Andrew about his sexual preferences and fantasies.
Kathy told me to get my cock and balls out of my pants. Fortunately, my position behind the table in its cubicle plus the length of the tablecloth allowed me to obey unnoticed. Well, not by everybody. Andrew turned to me with desperation covering his face. My master called him to order.
Kathy then started to touch my cock with her fork’s tines, whispering in my ear that I had a pretty fine “sausage” and she’d like to bite it. I reached out to touch her thighs, but she pushed my hand away. “Never without my bidding.” She greased her hand with a good amount of butter and started to rub my balls and then my cock. She told me about other sexual games she’d played in similar places in the past and asked me what I’d feel if we did the same things here. I had more and more difficulty answering, which seemed to satisfy her.
Meanwhile, at the request of my master, Andrew had disappeared under the table. I had no trouble imagining what he was busy with. I envied him a lot. Although excited by Kathy’s words and caresses, I’d have been much more interested in giving pleasure to my master. But maybe I was giving it to him by pleasing his guest. “May I do the same to you, Ma’am?”
“Why not?”
I slipped under the table and saw Andrew’s face was covered with tears. I don’t know if it was due to strangulation by my master’s dick or the sadness of having to serve someone other than his mistress.
I took position and pushed up the lady’s short dress a little. She wasn’t wearing panties. I immediately started to wash her labia with my tongue. From time to time, I touched the edge of the slit of her pussy, sliding the tip of my tongue from one end to the other. Kathy slipped down a little, giving me easier access to her genitals. I didn’t have as much experience with women as I did with men, but I was still not entirely a novice. I tried to ensure she enjoyed my endeavours as much as possible and for as long as possible.
The waiter came with dessert and coffee. Kathy sat up a little straighter and thanked him. I stopped for a moment. I heard Andrew emit gasps and groans whil
e my master held his head close against his belly, his cock buried deep in the throat of the young man. My own cock responded enthusiastically to the whole situation. I almost wished the waiter would come back with the restaurant owner and turf us out, not the lyric quartet, but the horny one.
I continued to eagerly lick Kathy’s cunt, stroking her legs, thighs, hips, everything I could reach without attracting too much attention if someone walked past. She spread her legs wider and presented me with an increasingly wet target. I thrust my tongue as deeply as possible into her vagina and pulled it out to tease her clitoris, biting her labia or sucking each of them, and then I started all over again. When I felt that what I had done was particularly pleasing to her, I continued the action a little longer, while trying to do even better. Soon, she was also holding my head against her, intimating me to finish the job. When I felt her shudder and heard her softly moan while she tightened her thighs against my face, I knew she was on the brink of orgasm. I continued more gently until she loosened her thighs and patted my head in gratitude.
My cock was hard, throbbing and ready to erupt, but I didn’t come at the same time as her. I knew that his visitor would probably have sex with me and my master has already told me that my partner’s orgasm should be enough to trigger mine, that I was not only authorized to come then, I should do it. He’d surely be unhappy that I didn’t. When I tried to regain my seat, I heard my master moaning while he also came. That was enough to cause my orgasm; I came along with him, wetting the underside of the table with my sperm.
“Come out here and eat your dessert,” Kathy ordered.
I waited to catch my breath before sitting down. My cock still hung out of my opened fly; but it had become flabby and now rested on my right thigh. My pants were wet there with a little semen. My mouth, chin and nose were still wet with the lady’s juice. While looking into her eyes, I rubbed all her erotic liquor on my face. “My dessert? I just had it,” I assured her.
She smiled, reached out and stroked my cheek.
Andrew reappeared. In a gesture expressing all the disgust he had experienced, he hastened to wipe his face with his napkin. I felt sorry for my master. He deserved so much better. When Andrew dipped a finger into his mouth to remove a pubic hair, I grabbed his hand. “No! Leave it there.”
