Remote Control Slave
“Is there a problem here, boy?” asked the mall security guard, his hands on his hips, his biceps stretching his brown uniform shirt.
I was just leaving the women’s clothing store. In one hand I held the package with my new panties. In the other, the butt-plug I had removed in the dressing room.
I was sweating, despite the tiny flimsy pink shorts and top I was wearing. Over the guard’s shoulder, I could see Piss-Master and cock-master across the mall aisle. Piss Master was holding up the video camera-phone up so Master in South Africa could watch the action.
“No, Sir, I replied. I was just leaving, Sir,” I told the guard.
He looked me up and down, doubting my innocence.
“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the plug.
I moved it behind the store bag in the other hand, hemming and hawing about a pet toy for my dog. Before he could reply, I suddenly felt my jock fill with a warm wetness which then leaked down my shaven legs to my flip-flops. I had forgotten about the piss-bag that Master had ordered taped to me under my pink top. He had pressed a button on his phone in South Africa and sent a signal to pierce the bag holding my stale piss. My jock and shorts were soaked; a small puddle had formed under me on the mall stone floor.
The guard stepped back, his nose scrunched up in disgust. “All right, you come with me, son,” he ordered, taking my arm and pulling me towards the mall security offices.
As I was e****ted away by the guard, I saw Piss-Master grab cock-master by the collar of his shirt and pull him toward one of those little booths where you can pay a dollar for a little strip of instant photos.
Back inside the photo-booth, Piss-Master pulled the curtain and issued orders: “OK, you know the drill, get my cock out and start sucking!”
Cock-master did as ordered as Piss-Master pulled off his shirt and played with his own tits, getting quickly hard. After the sucking had been going on for a while, Piss-Master grabbed cock-master’s head and held it still, leaving his cock in his mouth. After a moment, he started pissing, and at first cock-master struggled, his dark eyes showing rebellion, but Piss-Master held him firmly, and soon cock-master was swallowing for all he was worth, learning how to enjoy the golden liquid.
Finished peeing, Piss-Master grabbed cock-master’s head and directed it to his left pit. “Lick it good, cocksucker. Clean that sweats off me!”
Piss-Master had long silky jet-black pit hair, and cock-master worked his tongue through the bushy pit, licking out the sweat and replacing it with his saliva. After a few minutes, Piss-Master f***ed the head into the other pit, twisting his body and pressing the machine’s buttons to take photos this time…a series of little black and white exposures showing his beautiful pit-hair plastered down with cock-master‘s tongue in sight, a souvenir of cock-master’s debasement, a record of how far he had fallen in such a short time.
Inside the security office, the guard took off the heavy leather equipment belt and laid it on his desk.
“I need to see some I.D., son,” he told me, glaring.
“Um, Sir, I don’t have a wallet with me ” I replied.
“Why are you dressed like that? And did you wet your pants?”
“Er, Sir, this is the way my Masters tell me to dress, and yes, I’m afraid that is my piss,” I confessed.
“Masters? These masters control you?
“And you do whatever they say?”
“And what about me…will you do whatever I say?”
“Yes, Sir, I will,” I replied, looking down at the floor in submission. The Master’s rule was in effect. The guard had spoken to me, and that gave him immediate Master status.
The guard was giving me an incredulous look, but he glanced around, reached over and locked the door, and dropped his pants.
“So let’s see what you can do, fag-boy sucks on this!” he ordered.
I am not exaggerating when I say the guard had the biggest cock I had ever seen. Soft, it was massive in girth and length. He was uncut, and the skin had begun parting in anticipating of his expected blowjob. I grabbed hold and started stuffing it into my mouth as deep as I could, using my tongue to swirl around the massive and growing shaft and head. The guard moaned and grabbed my head with both of his hands, controlling my head with back and forth thrusts, sinking his rod deeper and deeper into my mouth.
As I worked his tool, my right hand went to my own hard cock and started pumping, but on seeing that, he grabbed both of my arms and pulled them up into position behind me, grabbing his handcuffs to secure them out of the way. Now his tempo increased and he fucked my mouth with great thrusts, ripping into my throat with repeated motions until finally he pushed all of the way in, blocking my breathing, and erupted in a series of spurts, shooting his manhood into me. He held that position for much longer than I would have wished; pulling out just before I was sure I was going to lose consciousness. I dropped to the floor in a pink heap, exhausted from the effort at being a good receiver for him. My eyes were closed when I felt a splatter of liquid on my face. He too was marking me with his piss. I opened my mouth and he aimed into it. I was glad for the liquid on my parched throat, and greedily gulped it down.
In the distance, a series of chimes sounded, and a recorded announcement told shoppers the doors to the mall were about to be locked for the evening. Although the thought of spending the night in the mall with the security guard and the other masters had some appeal, common sense told me it was time to leave.
“Get lost, scum,” ordered the guard, giving me my out.
I scrambled up to my feet, still dripping from the guard’s piss-bath, and hurried out of the security office.
As I emerged from the office, Piss-master was leading cock-master in my direction, and the three of us headed towards the mall exit. There were few shoppers left, but those there to witness our departure watched wide eyed at the somewhat bizarre spectacle. In addition to me…looking like the stinking cheap male-whore that I am….Piss-Master had affixed a dog collar and leash to cock-master and was leading him along. As for cock-master, his sleeveless sweatshirt was still wet from the spillage of Piss-Master’s cock. We made at the very least an unusual site for a shopping mall in the Deep South as we left and clamored into the van for the ride back to my apartment. Before I got in, Piss-Master positioned me in front of the video-camera phone and ordered me to listen to The Master a continent away.
“You have done well and pleased me, boy. I have no more need of your service. Obey your new masters well.”
I nearly cried. This man had ordered me to place myself in terribly embarrassing positions, to change the way I look, to take on new Masters with abandon, and through it all I had tried to be a good slave boy. Now he was leaving me. Piss-Master clicked off the phone, tossed me into the van, and slammed the doors. We left he mall, headed I knew not where, other than a new chapter in my life.
(To be continued)