textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/pisslave.txt

PISS SLAVE Part 1

     I'd just arrived in New York City for my vacation; I made my way to 
the friend's house where I would be staying, only to find them gone.  
They had, however made arrangements with the super to get me a key, so I 
was OK.  The only problem was that my "guides" were gone, and I was left 
in an unfamiliar city alone.
     Recalling a bookstore that the cab had passed a few blocks away, I 
did some quick unpacking and went to the bookstore, and returned armed 
with some maps of the city.  Pulling my handy gay guide out of a suitcase 
pocket, I set about locating myself, and something interesting to do that 
evening.
     Fortunately for me, my friends lived in a nice section of Greenwich 
Village, so many of the places I planned to visit were but a short walk 
away; I wouldn't have to deal with the subway system on my first outing.  
I finally decided on the infamous Spike.
     I wound up there fairly early; even though it was a Saturday, the 
place wasn't terribly full yet.  I strolled around the bar, admiring the 
collection of posters from other bars, the artwork, and some of the more 
bearlike men. Between the beers I'd had and my wandering thoughts, I 
stopped paying real attention to most of the bar.  Rather suddenly, it 
registered on me that I could only move with difficulty.  I looked around 
the room, and discovered that the place was full, and rapidly approaching 
packed.  I had been warned that the Spike was popular; but I never 
expected it to get so full one could hardly move!
     Fortunately, I was against a wall, and was able to keep out of the 
press as I watched some of the hotter men in the room.  Eventually, 
though, I decided that this wouldn't do at all: if I decided I wanted to 
make a move on a man, there was no guarantee I'd be able to get anywhere 
near him, much less make myself heard.  I decided to give some of the 
other leather bars in the neighborhood a try; hopefully they would be 
less full.
     As I exited the bar, my glance ran down the alley by the door, and I 
stopped right there.  The Spike sits on a corner where an alley runs into 
a major street along the Manhattan waterfront.  Undoubtedly due to the 
crush inside, here lined up along the alley wall of the Spike were five 
or six hot numbers in leather taking a piss.  Clearly this had been going 
on for some time, as the entire sidewalk was wet, and the gutter was 
carrying off a torrent of piss.  As each man finished and stepped away 
from the wall, another took his place and kept the river of piss in the 
gutter flowing.
     Watersports has always had a particularly strong hold over me; 
before I had a chance to think I walked over in the midst of the group, 
turned my back to the wall, knelt and bowed my head.
     "Well, lookit this... been a long time since this alley's seen a 
piss-pig, by my recollection!"
     "Damn right... *too* long, if you ask me!"
     And with that, the second speaker, a tall guy in his 30's with a 
thick blonde moustache, started a strong stream of piss going which he 
ran slowly up my leg from the knee, soaking my crotch as he trailed it up 
my bare chest, then my neck, then pissing full in my face, soaking my 
hair and beard.  I opened my mouth, and started gulping down the 
saltysweet piss by the mouthful.
     Clearly, someone had run back into the bar to let the patrons know 
what was up, since within fifteen minutes, I was surrounded by a 
semicircle of leatherclad hunks at least three deep, waiting to piss all 
over the guy in the alley.
     The next hour turned into a constant warm shower of piss; the 
occasional load of cum flew out of the wall of leathered bodies in front 
of me to land in my hair or beard, only to slowly be washed away by the 
relentless flow of hot piss.  Several times, I pissed my own pants to 
make room for me to suck down yet more of the hot liquid.
     Finally, the crowd of men started to thin out; my head was spinning, 
whether from the intensity of the public scene, or unmetabolized drugs in 
some of the piss I drank, I didn't know.  Suddenly there was a man in 
front of me, and I looked up.
     He was tall and slender, with what some call a "swimmer's body"; 
that compact, deceptively nonbulky kind of muscle underlying a thickly 
furred chest. He was dressed in old, worn, dirty-looking 501's, chaps, 
boots, a heavy body harness and a worn leather jacket, and a similarly 
old leather rebel cap.  His hair was black, with grey at the temples; his 
short-clipped beard also had grey at the temples, and some at the chin.  
What immediately captivated me, though, was his moustache: a heavy 
jet-black, thick, long, and waxed immaculately into two sweeping arcs at 
the ends.  Many people look hot in leather; this man looked like he 
belonged in it, lived in it.
     He looked down at me with a degree of amusement, and asked, "Are you 
ready to come home with me now?"
     "Yes, Sir, but..."
     "Come on, boy.  I've had my eye on you since I first saw you in the 
bar. But, because of that damnable crowd, you were entrenched in your 
little scene out here before I could get to the door.  So, I've just been 
kicked back, watching the show and waiting for you.  Come with me."
     He helped me to my feet, making no comment about the piss that 
rubbed off on his leathers, and held me upright until my cramped legs 
could support me again.  With a firm hand on the back of my neck, he 
quick-marched me (dripping all the way) to his car, where he handed me a 
plastic bag and ordered me to strip, then towel off and get in the car.  
I followed his directions, stripping to the skin right there on the 
street, placing my drenched clothes in the bag, then wiping off the rest 
of the piss and finally climbing into his car.  As he walked around to 
the driver's side, I saw the bright yellow hankie prominently displayed 
in his left rear pocket.
     "That's better; you'll be wet enough again soon, boy."
     He grabbed the wet hair on the back of my head and pulled my face to 
his, forcing his thick, long tongue deep into my mouth.  I relaxed into 
his rough embrace, sucking on his tongue and inhaling the peculiarly 
familiar spicy/musky odor that he had.  He pushed me back into my seat, 
and fixing me there with a look of command, drove us to his place.
     When we reached his small apartment house, he parked in a basement 
garage, and we took the elevator to his flat; I was petrified about my 
nudity, but more afraid of him if I didn't follow, or of what I would 
miss if I tried to leave. We made it safely to his apartment, and I 
slumped in relief.
     "You needn't have worried, boy" he said with amusement.  "Everyone 
in this building is a kinky gay guy; a bunch of us decided it would be 
easier to have a building of our own rather than have to deal with 
straight or vanilla neighbors." 
     I followed him into the kitchen, where he downed at least a quart of 
water, virtually pouring it down his throat without swallowing.  "Handy 
talent for a piss Master to have, don't you think, boy?" he said, 
smiling.  "I refuse to disappoint my bottoms." 
     "Now," he said, downing another quart of water the same way as the 
first, "into the bedroom, boy.  Go ahead and lie down on the bed; I'll be 
back in a moment."
     I followed his gaze, and walked up a couple of low steps into the 
bedroom. The bed was a large waterbed, covered with a waterproof cover, 
and was sunk about 2 inches into the floor.  All around the bed was a 
black leather covered padded bolster about a foot wide.  I lay down on 
the bed and tried to clear my mind and relax.
     When he returned, he was wearing only the harness and his chaps; his 
large cock swung freely between his legs; the long, loose foreskin hung 
about half an inch beyond the tip of his cock.  He climbed on the bed and 
locked my head into his armpit, so I could smell the rich sweat there, 
but my tongue couldn't reach it.
     "Before we go further, we get to know each other.  I've never seen 
you around before; are you new to town, visiting, or just what, boy?"
     "I'm here on vacation for a week, Sir.  I'm staying with some 
friends in Greenwich Village."
     "No, you're staying here; we can get your stuff tomorrow.  What's 
your name?"
     "George, Sir"
     "I'm Master Leo, boy.  Do you trust me?"
     I looked into his dark eyes and considered.  My intuition gave its 
response, and that's how I answered him.  "Yes, Master Leo, I do."
     "Good boy.  Suck my cock."
     With that, he shoved my head down to his sweaty crotch.  As I pulled 
his heavy foreskin back, I caught a stronger whiff of that spicy musk I'd 
noticed before, and looked up at him quizzically.  "That's right, boy.  I 
use my head cheese to wax my 'stache.  Just the right consistency, it's 
free, and the smell attracts hot men like crazy, even if they don't know 
what it is.  Now, get to it!"
     My mouth opened obediently, and his thick shaft slipped into my 
mouth. His thick, creamy dickcheese tasted even better than it smelled as 
he slowly thrust in and out of my mouth.  As I pulled back, his foreskin 
slipped forward again; I slid my tongue in between the skin and the head 
and flipped it from side to side before pushing the skin back again.  My 
reward was a sudden thrust which popped my throat open and lodged 
Master's big hairy balls against my bearded chin.  He held for a moment, 
then pulled quickly out of my throat.
     "Lie on your belly; that's it."  He knelt between my spread legs and 
smeared grease on my gasping asshole.  The tip of his dick at my asshole, 
then -- shove! -- and he was in me, stroking slowly back and forth, 
letting me feel his foreskin slipping back and forth in my ass.  He 
slowly worked his entire shaft into me, then stopped his stroking and 
just lay quietly on top of me.
     "Sir? What...."
     "Shut up, boy."  He clamped a hand over my mouth to enforce the 
order.  "I think you got more than enough piss down your throat this 
evening; it's time for a change."
     I finally noticed the growing sensation of warmth in my ass as 
Master filled my butt with his hot piss.  The moment he finished, he 
resumed his fucking, quickly building up to a fast, hard stroke that 
would have pushed me across the bed if he hadn't held on to me while 
fucking the hell out of me.
     "OH...Sir..."
     "You want it harder, boy?  Good!"
     With that, he clamped his hand over my mouth again, shoved down on 
my upper back and started ramming me even harder than before.  Between 
the hot piss sloshing around in my gut, the sensation of his foreskin 
slipping back and forth in my butt (I'd never had an uncut dick before) 
and his cockhead expertly pounding my prostate to a pulp, I couldn't hold 
back and came all over the black cover beneath me. That must have been 
what he was waiting for, because as soon as I finished cumming, he 
whipped out of my ass, flipped me over and straddled my chest.  His hand 
whipped his foreskin back and forth three times, then his dick blasted 
out a continuous stream of hot cum all over my face and beard.
     The moment he'd finished cumming, he grabbed a handhold over the 
head- board, pulled himself to his feet, and began pissing all over me, 
wetting down my entire body.  He finished and lay down beside me in the 
piss, grabbed me by my again-wet hair, and looked into my eyes.
     "Now you can thank me."
     My cum and piss drenched face was guided to his armpit.  I eagerly 
began lapping the heavy mat of sweat-drenched hair in his pit, rubbing my 
face through his pit as he groaned and wriggled at the touch of my 
tongue.  After a bit, he grabbed my hair and moved me to the other 
armpit, and finally he rolled onto all fours and pushed my face into his 
asscrack.
     I started slowly working my tongue through the sweat-tangled hair in 
his crack, avoiding his asshole until he grabbed my hair and growled, 
"Get with it, shithead!"  In response, I quickly plunged my tongue as 
deep into his twitching hole as I could.  He reached back, spreading his 
cheeks, allowing me to work my tongue even deeper into his musky shithole.
     After a very few minutes of my tongue lashing in and out of his 
tight hole, he flipped over, shoved his throbbing dick into my mouth, 
locked his leather-clad legs around the back of my neck, and filled my 
mouth with his sweet cum.  After a moment, he pulled me up, slipped his 
tongue into my mouth for a long, gentle kiss, then we both drifted off to 
sleep together.
     I awoke late the next morning to Master's bark of "Time to get up, 
shit-head!" and a stream of his thick morning piss in my face.  My mouth 
followed the stream up, until my lips closed over his skin-sheathed 
cockhead.  He finished, I swallowed a last time and licked a few stray 
drops of piss from my moustache.
     "Get dressed" he growled, throwing my clothes -- which were still 
rank with last night's piss dried in them -- at me.  "We've got a lot to 
do today."
     The first order of business turned out to be collecting my things 
from my friend's apartment, and leaving them a letter explaining why I 
wasn't there. Master insisted that it explain that I was spending the 
week as a slave, and not just say that I'd met a "friend."  After I 
finished, he took the letter, added something he wouldn't let me read, 
and marched me out the door.
     The next stop was a leather shop I could smell half a block away 
from the door.  The proprietor looked rather sinister, dressed in nothing 
but black leather with his precisely trimmed jet-black Van Dyke.  "Give 
him the full treatment; I'll be back for him later."
     I was led into a back room, and measured in every way imaginable.  
Since my only breakfast had been Master's salty morning piss, I asked if 
I could please have a drink.  Rather to my surprise, the proprietor 
smiled briefly, and got me a glass of soda, and told me to be seated and 
wait.  Soon after I finished the drink, I fell asleep (Master later 
confirmed that the soda contained a sedative).  When I awoke, I was in a 
dentist-like chair before a large mirror; I didn't recognize myself at 
first.
     To begin with, I was now dressed head to foot in leathers much like 
my Master's.  "Oiled leathers" the proprietor corrected me.  "Perfect for 
a piss slave -- or Master -- because they are waterproof."  When I 
inquired after my old leather vest and boots, the proprietor just smiled 
and said, "Gone.  Don't you think what you've got on is an improvement?"
     On a second look in the mirror, I had to agree; the dark luster of 
the boots, chaps, jacket, vest, harness and cap spoke of a much finer 
grade of leather than I'd ever been able to afford.  The chaps had a 
narrow stripe of yellow leather down the right leg, proclaiming to all my 
status as a piss bottom. Other touches, like the bright chrome cockring 
in my right epaulet rein- forced the message that I was a slave.  I took 
in my image again, from the boots up.  It was then that I finally noticed 
the other change.
     While I was asleep, my rather long hair had been cut in a neat, but 
quite short style.  My similarly long "mountain man" beard had been 
clipped short, to complement my hair's length, though my moustache 
retained its full length, made more impressive by the relative shortness 
of my beard.  "Your Master is waiting outside; you'd best not keep him 
waiting."
     The proprietor helped me to my feet, and steadied me as I threw off 
the lingering effects of the sedative.  When I came through the leather 
curtain into the front of the store, Master turned around.  For a brief 
moment, surprise flicked across his face, then turned into a wide grin of 
satisfaction.
     "You've done your usual good job, Nick.  Put it on my account, we've 
got to be getting on."
     "Yes, sir.  Always a pleasure doing business with you."
     As we left the shop, I noticed with a shock that it was dark; I 
glanced at my watch, and realized I'd been in that shop for almost eight 
hours, most of that unconscious.
     "Well, what did you expect, boy??  Making up a full set of custom 
leathers takes time, even when you've got it down to as exact a science 
as Nick does." His eyes raked up and down my body, and a lecherous grin 
grew on his face. "Nick does fine work, doesn't he, boy?"  With that, he 
grabbed the back of my head, and simultaneously slipped his tongue into 
my mouth and started squeezing my balls.  I kissed him back with equal 
lust.
     He broke the kiss.  "Damn, I knew there was a good looking boy under 
all that extra hair, but I never realized just how good looking... you're 
going to drive all the men at the club crazy tonight!"
     "The club, Sir?"
     "You'll find out when we get there, boy.  Get in the car, we're 
going to grab some dinner, then off to the club."
     I was a bit nervous about going into a restaurant dressed as I was, 
until I saw the inside of the place.  All the waiters wore leather chaps 
and vests, and the menus were bound in black leather.  As my eyes 
adjusted to the dim light, I saw that the walls were ornamented with 
various sex toys, from the ordinary to the outrageous.
     Dinner was quickly dealt with, and we were off to this club that 
Master refused to explain.  He parked the car in a run-down looking area 
near the waterfront, and we walked through some pretty disreputable 
looking alleys until we came to a nondescript black door.  He knocked, 
and held up a small card to an opening in the door, which promptly opened.
     Once inside, I got a long look at the doorman as Master paid the 
entry fee.  This guy could have defined the term "Grizzly Bear."  His 
thick black chest hair, his full black beard and moustache, and the thick 
wavy black hair on his head were all lightly and evenly sprinkled with 
pure silver hairs, with rather more at his chin and temples; the hair 
under his arms, and that between his pecs, on his muscled abdomen, and 
even part of his beard sparkled with drops of sweat.  His thick, powerful 
chest was strapped into a heavy leather harness, and I could just see the 
tops of a pair of chaps and the very top of an impressive basket-bulge 
over the top of the little table in front of him. From the way he moved, 
I could tell he was both quick and limber, qualities most very muscular 
men don't have.
     "And you'll be off at the regular time?"
     "Yes; the door closes for the evening at the usual time, and I'll be 
down after I check in my cashbox."
     "Good!"  Master said, grinning.  "I think you'll like my boy, here."
     Master led me down a flight of stairs to a leather curtained 
doorway; a red spotlight hidden somewhere above illuminated a sign made 
of chrome rivets on black leather above the door: "The Urinal."  Master 
pushed me through the curtain, and into the club.
     I looked around the room; it was full of some of the hottest men I'd 
ever seen; none were clean-shaven, and virtually all had some leather 
on.  Yellow hankies -- left, right, or both -- blossomed from pockets 
everywhere in the room.  Master drew me over to the bar, where he got us 
two huge mugs of cola.
     "Caffeine's a diuretic, you know" he said with a grin.
     "I know, Sir."  I relaxed my throat and knocked off about a quarter 
of the big mug in one throw.
     "You learn fast, boy.  I like that.  Now I'll show you around."
     The floor of the place was concrete, and there were drains placed 
strategically -- and frequently -- across the floor.  In one corner under 
a spot- light was an old-style tub with feet, standing on a kind of 
platform.  One man was in the tub, drinking his beer.  He reached down, 
and held his cock up; another man saw this, and scrambled under the tub.  
The stud in the tub let loose with a big jet of piss, which splashed into 
his face and ran down through his blonde beard and soaked into his 
shirt.  The stream kept coming, faster than his clothes could soak it up; 
the man under the tub opened his mouth right under the drain and started 
drinking it down as fast as it came out; even when two hunks walked up to 
the tub and started spraying their piss all over the hunk in the tub, the 
dude under the tub didn't miss a drop.
     Watching all this, Master and I had both finished our drinks, and I 
went back to the bar for refills.  When I returned, Master showed me some 
peculiar padded contraptions; when he put me into one, it was clear that 
it was designed to keep a man's head at crotch height, while not putting 
stress on his knees or back, so he would be able to stay in position 
comfortably.
     Master obviously decided to take advantage of my position, and 
popped open his fly, pulling out his hardening dick.  I opened my mouth, 
and he started fucking my throat with his tasty meat.  It wasn't too long 
before he pulled out and tucked his cock back in his pants, saying he 
wanted to save it for later. Just as I was starting to get out of the 
padded contraption, Master saw someone coming over and pushed me back 
into place.
     "Long time since I saw you here last, pal!"
     "Too long.  He yours, or just trying before you buy?"
     "He's mine.  Slave, this is my good friend Dirty' Don.  If it's 
sleazy and raunchy, he loves it.  Damn, Don; you get smellier every time 
I see you!"
     "Yeah!  Ain't it hot?"  At that, he lifted an arm and took a deep, 
satisfied sniff.
     "Don, I need a refill; take care of Slave George here while I'm gone."
     "Sure thing!"


Piss Slave Part 2

     He moved a bit closer, and as he did, one of the brighter lights in 
the room caught him and let me get a good look.  Incredibly grungy levis 
 a patchy black-brown instead of the accustomed blue, with a thick 
bulge showing down his left leg.  A t-shirt that must have been white 
some time long ago, now adorned with heavy sweat marks in the pits and 
down the front, with a worn leather vest over that, and a thick pelt of 
dark fur curling out the neckband from underneath.  A heavy dark beard, 
matted with dried cum, and two of the hairiest fuckin' armpits I'd ever seen.
     He was standing next to me, and his smell dominated my senses.  
Thick with manmusk, and spiced with piss, cum and motor oil, the smell 
began to make my dick rise; even faster, as I thought about sucking his 
filthy dick, or licking those raunchy pits.
     "Nice to meet you, Sir."
     "Aw, ya don't hafta bother with that Sir' crap with me, boy.  Dirty 
Don's my name.  I hope ya don't mind my stink; some dudes aren't into 
serious raunch."
     "As a matter of fact, I like it, Don.  I've often fantasized about 
getting it on with a heavily raunchy stud, but you're the first one I've 
met."
     He looked at me closely.  "Unusual for such a young'un to be so hot 
into sleaze -- but then you're with Leo, and to be with him you've gotta 
be serious into piss.  Guess it makes sense after all."  With that, he 
turned his back to me and shoved my nose into his asscrack through a rip 
in the seat of his filthy jeans.
     "Smell that funky ass, boy... lots of hot, workin' man sweat in 
there."  I moaned my appreciation.  He turned back around, and started 
popping fly but- tons.
     "Smell that stinkin' crotch, boy... yeah, get yer fuckin' nose in 
there and breathe it in deep... lick those hairy balls, eat the sweat and 
scum off 'em... get with it, boy, suck them balls!"
     "I see you two are getting along just fine; I'm always pleased when 
my friends hit it off so well!"  Master said, with amusement in his voice.
     "Oh yeah!" Dirty Don exclaimed, as he pulled my face out of his 
crotch and rubbed it into his scum-encrusted pants.  "This is a hot 
little piece of raunch-lovin' slavemeat you got here, Leo; I hope you're 
plannin' to share!"
     "That's why I brought him here tonight, Don.  You know that my 
friends are welcome to anything I own... including my slaves, as long as 
they're careful."
     With that, Dirty Don turned back around and shoved his cock into my 
waiting mouth, grabbed the back of my head and started fucking my face, 
*hard*. His low-hanging balls were smacking against my Adam's apple, and 
his thick cockhead was plunging in and out of my throat.  Suddenly he 
pulled out, stroked his cock a couple of times, and anointed my face and 
beard with his cum.  When he'd finished, he carefully wiped the cum away 
from my eyes (wiping his hand on my chest fur) and helped me out of the 
brace.  He locked me into a heavy, deep, sloppy kiss which was quickly 
replaced by my slurping at his rank pits; I was so into his stink and his 
taste, that it took me a while to notice that he had his crotch held 
tight to mine, and was pissing us both wet!
     "Phew!  Nothin' like a good, hot piss, is there, Leo?" he said, as 
he finished and finally let me go.  His 501's bore a broad dark patch in 
the front, which ran down the legs into his boots.
     "Nope.  And speaking of piss..."  Master tapped my shoulder and I 
dropped to my knees.  I quickly undid Master's fly and glanced up for 
permission to continue.  He nodded, and I pulled out his soft, thick 
cock, and placed the uncut head gently between my lips.  He pissed as 
hard and fast as he could; so fast that I couldn't swallow it as fast as 
it came.  It leaked out of my mouth, mingling with Don's cum in my beard, 
running down my chest and making my 501's even wetter.
     Master pulled me to my feet and finished showing me around the 
room.  The walls were covered with art depicting hot men, usually in piss 
scenes.  A large GSA banner hung in one corner, and hidden behind a small 
door in that same corner was an actual toilet.  "Just in case someone 
needs to shit" Master said.
     "Permission to speak, Sir?"
     "Yes, boy?" he said, sipping from his freshly-refilled mug.
     "Permission to piss, Sir."
     He pulled me over to a small cabinet, from which he extracted an 
old-style enema bag.  He made sure the clamp was set on the hose, then 
told me to piss into the bag.  I did, and then Master topped it off with 
his own piss.  He put the top on the bag and hung it from a hook on the wall.
     "Bend over, boy"
     He pulled open the rip in the ass seam of my pants, and slipped the 
nozzle into my ass.  He flipped open the nozzle, and the bag of still-hot 
piss ran quickly into my butt.
     "There we go....  Now, boy: I want you to hold that as long as you 
can; when you need to dump it, you have my permission to leave without 
asking to the crapper in the corner and dump.  Take care of it, and then 
get back here.  Got it, boy?"
     "Yes, Sir!"
     "Good boy."  At that, he grabbed the hair on the back of my head, 
and pulled me into a deep, long kiss.  In the middle of it, I felt his 
hot piss splashing on my front, as well as the load of combined piss 
sloshing in my gut.  He finally let me go, and I ran (dripping all the 
way) to the can and got rid of the ache in my bowels.
     "All cleaned out, boy?"
     "Yes, Sir!"
     "Good boy."  He led me to a rack like the one I'd been in earlier, 
and started fucking my face again.  Master pulled out of my face at the 
same time I felt someone start playing with my ass (I hadn't noticed 
before, but the racks also put a slave's ass at a convenient height, as 
well as his mouth).  I looked back, and it was the grizzly-bear doorman, 
rubbing my crack through the ripped jeans, kneading the heavy lump in his 
jeans.  He moved around in front of me.
     "Get it out... no, dumbshit, no hands... use your mouth!"
     Fortunately, the jeans were worn and the buttonholes in the fly were 
loose and popped open easily.  Getting his half hard schlong out was 
another matter; the man sweated like a horse, and the sweat held the 
cloth to the skin, making it slow going... but then, my face was in a 
magnificently sweat-soaked crotch, so why should I have complained?  I 
finally freed his thick member, and lubed the head with my spit as he 
directed.  He moved back behind me, and as he did, Dirty Don took his 
place, forcing me to eat the dried cum out of his beard, and groom his 
sweat-matted body fur with my tongue and teeth.
     The bearlike hunk behind me eased his semisoft cockhead into me, and 
stopped.  By this time, I expected the warm rush that quickly filled my 
bowels, and his soft moan that accompanied it.
     "Nothin' like pissin' in a hot slave ass, Leo."
     "Except fuckin' it when it's full of your piss, Den."
     "You read my mind, Leo."
     He started slowly thrusting into my ass, letting me get used to his 
thick assripper as it grew fully hard.  He wasn't hung overly long, but 
DAMN it was thick!  He'd just started fucking me hard and deep when he 
paused.  I looked up at Don quizzically, since he could see what was 
happening.
     "Jus' yer Master pluggin himself into ol' Dennis' fuckhole while he 
rams you.  Den loves to be the middle of a sandwich."
     Before Don had finished explaining the scene, Den was again ramming 
me hard and fast; if I paid close attention, I could feel Master Leo's 
counter- point thrusts into Den... but the moment I started to focus on 
that, I'd get a hard palm across the face from Don, reminding me of the 
task at hand... or rather, tongue.
     Don finally got me down on his uncut dick, and filled my mouth with 
a load that belied the fact he'd creamed on my face not long before.  He 
pulled out of my face and grinned as he milked the last few drops of cum 
out, then spread them under his foreskin.
     "Gotta start a new crop 'a cheese to replace what'cha ate tonight!"
     I gasped as Dennis pulled his thick rump-rammer out and moved around 
in front of me, with Master Leo fucking his hairy, muscular butt all the 
way.  He plunged his funky cock down my throat, thrust a couple of times 
then pulled out again and blasted jet after jet of mancream all over my 
face.  Just as the volume was diminishing, and I thought it might be safe 
to open my eyes, I heard Master gasp, and another shower of cum 
splattered across my face.  Don (I could tell from the smell) helped me 
out of the brace, and I stood up, and wiped the cum out of my eyes, 
wiping it on my chest.
     After the four of us recovered a bit, we all departed for Master 
Leo's apartment, where I served as urinal and twin fuckhole for the three 
of them all night long.  They did get me off -- I came up Dennis' asshole 
as he was fucking himself on Master's and my dick at the same time.  My 
cum shooting in his shit- chute set off both him and Master, and I again 
caught Den's cum on my face and chest.
     The next several days went in much the same fashion; during the day, 
depending on Master's decision, I either spent sightseeing in New York or 
cleaning the apartment while he was at work.  Nights were spent in the 
wildest, hottest sex I'd ever had; mostly alone with Master, but with 
Dennis and Don included occasionally, and once with a few other of 
Master's friends.
     I was uncomfortably aware of my rapidly approaching departure date; 
I knew Master Leo knew when I was supposed to leave, but I didn't want to 
bring up the subject.  One morning, Master called me to him.
     "Boy, you're scheduled to fly home tomorrow."
     "Yes sir, I know."
     "Do you want to leave?"
     "I'm not sure, Sir.  I... I think I've fallen in love with you, Sir, 
but... back home, there's my job... friends, family.  I just don't know 
what to do."
     "It's up to you, boy.  I want to keep you... forever.  But you've 
got to do it because you want me.  Here's your choice.  Your suitcases 
are there, your airplane ticket is here on the desk.  This is one of my 
credit cards.  Now, I'm going to leave for work.  If you decide to go, 
use the card and make yourself a reservation at a hotel for tonight, take 
your things and leave; if you do leave, I never want to see or hear from 
you again.  If you decide to stay, call a moving company in your town, 
use the card and pay them to ship all your shit to you here.  Call your 
boss and tell him to shove the job, then take this collar" -- and here he 
hefted a heavy leather slave collar, chained to the wall near the desk -- 
"and lock yourself in.  I have the key.  You've got until I get home at 
5:30 to make up your mind.  Goodbye, boy -- and I hope it's only until 
this evening."
     And with that, he left for work.
     When he returned from work that day years ago, the apartment was 
immaculate.  My suitcases were gone -- because I'd never need them 
again.  Dressed head to toe in the leathers he had given me, I was 
chained to the wall next to his desk.  He unlocked me, dragged me to the 
bedroom and fucked me hard for hours.  He finished, and then pulled out 
and soaked me with his golden piss as he said, "I love you, shithead."
     "I love you, Master."

The End