Remote Control Love Slave
- 3 years ago
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REMOTE CONTROL SLAVE (PART 6) free porn video
REMOTE CONTROL SLAVE
SLAVE 6
It was late! All of the shaving and discipline had used up so much time that I wondered what kind of shopping Piss-Master had in mind.
He handed me the next size up in butt plugs, which I inserted. We had reached a width now that I had to work at getting it in. He stood there watching, not offering anything other than a contemptuous gaze. Finally it seated itself in my ass, hitting by prostate almost immediately.
“Put these on and stand in the tub, slut.” He handed me a pair of white bikini type underwear. They were too small for me, but I struggled into them. When I finished, he pulled out his cock and pissed on them, and me, soaking them yellow.
“OK slut-girl, now put these clothes on!” came his next order. Out of his bottomless canvas bag came a pair of very short bright white nylon shorts, and an almost matching tank top that had been roughly cut off so it ended just at my nipples. Across the front, emblazoned in hot pink, were too words: Too Hot” I put the clothes on, trying to keep my piss-stained underwear from showing under the flimsy shorts. There was also the matter of my erection. The abuse he was showing me was a tremendous turn-on and I had not been allowed to cum all day.
Also in the bag was a pair of flip-flops, in pink, of course, with bright yellow flowers on them.
I still had my dog collar on, and a quick sideways glance into the bathroom mirror confirmed my fears. I may as well have had the words “faggot slut” stamped on the shirt. Looking at my rear, I could just make out the bright pink end of the butt plug showing through the bikini underwear. My body shave left me looking like, well a cheap flat-chested hooker. Again, I found myself blushing, perhaps because of the knowledge that I would soon be leaving the relative safety of my apartment in this outfit.
Piss-Master slipped his leash on to the ring in my collar, grabbed his keys and my wallet, and pulled me to the door.
My apartment was on the first floor, so we were able to leave the building through the lobby without running into a single neighbor. It was almost 9:00pm on a weeknight, and the streets were quiet, but in the parking lot a young boy looked my way and wolf-whistled…Piss-master still was holding the leash, so I can only imagine what he thought he was seeing in the darkened lot. Maybe his hormones made my flat chest look developed, or maybe he was gay. Again, I was blushing terribly and sweating…I had not been allowed to put on deodorant and the body shave had taken away the hair that might absorb some of the sweat. Add the Piss-Master’s piss and I stank. Where were we going, I wondered?
We approached an old green panel van and Piss-Master opened the rear doors, indicating I should get in. I clam aboard, and he followed, pulling the doors closed behind him. Inside, he grabbed my cock through the shorts and fondled it, heaping on the verbal abuse…
“Hey little whore boy-girl…what’s this I feel? Can’t be a cock cause only real men have those…you got a really big clit? Is that it? Did you stuff some socks down there to show off?”
I kept silent, sitting on the exposed metal bottom of the van, now really hard and leaking. A wet spot appeared dead center on the black shorts. No one would doubt what that was all about.
He climbed between the front seats, told me to hold on, and pulled out onto the highway. The floor of the van was fitly, and I was getting grease and pieces of sawdust on my slut-wear. Great, I thought, I’ll be a dirty whore.
There were no windows in the sides of the van, and I was busy trying not to fall on my face as he rushed through the streets, quickly taking curves left and right.
After fifteen minutes or so bright light showed through the windshield and I saw a sign with those All-American words: Save-Mart. He pulled the van up mercifully close to the store, which I knew was open till Midnight. It must have been close to eleven.
Piss-Master turned around in his seat: “OK, gender-fuck, here’s your shopping list: get yourself some girly underwear, in your size. If you come back and they aren’t girly enough I swear I’ll send you back in without the shorts on. Now get that ass in there…the night’s not over yet!”
i didn’t bother arguing, and got out of the van trying to pull the shorts and cut -off shirt up and down to cover as much of my bare skin as possible.
The trip into the store consisted of me walking and every clerk and shopper within five aisles staring at me. In San Francisco, or New York, I might have gotten away with this look without too much attention, but here in the South I was an instant celebrity. Several shoppers took photos with their camera phones, trying to be discrete about it but being obvious anyway.
I swished and sweated and blushed my way to the women’s section, keeping my eyes on the tile floor, glancing up enough only to get to the counter where saw the underwear. I pawed through the packages, but couldn’t find anything that appeared to be big enough. I’m not at all fat, but I am a guy. I needed the plus-size, big-girl selection.
“Can I help you sweetie?”
Naturally, the question came from the only cute clerk in the store, a 20 year old manager-type attracted by the customer’s murmurs about me. I looked up, and recognized him as a former classmate. I was about to die.
“Uh, hi Brian. I need some large, um, panties,” I offered.
“Large? How large?” he asked, twisting the knife.
“Well, she’s, uh, she’s a big girl, kinda...well…she…”
“Is she about your size?”
Again, that blushing! “Yes.”
Brian reached out and took me by the hand and pulled be toward the back the department…”Come on, let’s go over here…”
We walked through a door marked “Private”, then into a shipping and receiving area that was empty that late at night.
“Try ‘em on,” he said, handing me a package of hot pink lace panties…I know it’s against policy, but we’ll make an exceptions since I know you, slut.”
His words stung, since we had been casual friends in school, and even shared a room once on a school trip.
i pulled down the shorts and was about to put on the panties when he stopped me: “lose the dirty whites, whore-boy.”
i removed the piss-stained bikini whites, exposing my completely shaved crotch to Brian, and slid the new pink panties up in place.
He reached across to adjust them, his hand rubbing up against my belly area in the process: “Oops, looks like I got my hand dirty, cocksucker, you’d better lick it clean. He held out his hand, which I automatically started licking…was I incapable of saying no to an order?
Brian pushed me to my knees as licked his hand, making sure to suck on each of his fingers…the other hand followed, and then Brian opened his pants and pulled out his cock.
“Do you know what this is, boy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell me!”
“It’s a cock, Sir”
“Do you have one?”
“No, sir”
“What do you have?”
“I have a penis, Sir.”
“Let me see it.”
I reached down and pulled my parts out over the top of the new panties, wondering that he used the same line of reasoning that Piss-Master did, having me call it “my penis”.
“Pretty miserable excuse for a cock...take mine, take the real cock in this room in your mouth and play with your little penis thing.”
I did as told, not sucking or anything, just keeping is semi-hard cock in my mouth. After a moment, my mouth was watering and my own little penis was stiff as I jerked off.
Suddenly Brian started peeing, and it was obvious he had been holding it for a while. His piss had that strong flavor that comes from sitting in the body for a while. Nonetheless I gulped it gratefully; glad to be used, turned on by the continued humiliation of the evening. When he was almost done, he pulled out, saving his last spurt to spray the new panties.
As he zipped up, he told me to put the white bikini back on, to put the new pink panties over them, and then the white shorts.
“Time to go, fag-slut, I’ll see that you get a supply of nice girly panties delivered. You can pay me later on your knees, since that seems to be where you are most comfortable…”
He led me to the door and we left the stockroom. It was a very long walk to the front door, with more camera phone clicking and whispering. I think I saw two women who used to be friends of my parents.
Outside, Piss-Master was waiting in the van.
“You took you long enough! Where are the panties?”
I explained about Brian and lowered the shorts to show him the pair I was wearing.
“Well get used to them, you’ll be wearing that pair till your friend gets around to sending you some more!”
Suddenly I realized that Brian didn’t have my address! How would he send me the panties? Before I could panic or say anything, I got my answer as we pulled out of the parking lot. Brian walked out the front door and waved to Piss-Master, who waved back, friends it would seem, and co-conspirators in my evening’s debasement. Brian knew where I lived, and probably a lot more.
To be continued
SLAVE 6
It was late! All of the shaving and discipline had used up so much time that I wondered what kind of shopping Piss-Master had in mind.
He handed me the next size up in butt plugs, which I inserted. We had reached a width now that I had to work at getting it in. He stood there watching, not offering anything other than a contemptuous gaze. Finally it seated itself in my ass, hitting by prostate almost immediately.
“Put these on and stand in the tub, slut.” He handed me a pair of white bikini type underwear. They were too small for me, but I struggled into them. When I finished, he pulled out his cock and pissed on them, and me, soaking them yellow.
“OK slut-girl, now put these clothes on!” came his next order. Out of his bottomless canvas bag came a pair of very short bright white nylon shorts, and an almost matching tank top that had been roughly cut off so it ended just at my nipples. Across the front, emblazoned in hot pink, were too words: Too Hot” I put the clothes on, trying to keep my piss-stained underwear from showing under the flimsy shorts. There was also the matter of my erection. The abuse he was showing me was a tremendous turn-on and I had not been allowed to cum all day.
Also in the bag was a pair of flip-flops, in pink, of course, with bright yellow flowers on them.
I still had my dog collar on, and a quick sideways glance into the bathroom mirror confirmed my fears. I may as well have had the words “faggot slut” stamped on the shirt. Looking at my rear, I could just make out the bright pink end of the butt plug showing through the bikini underwear. My body shave left me looking like, well a cheap flat-chested hooker. Again, I found myself blushing, perhaps because of the knowledge that I would soon be leaving the relative safety of my apartment in this outfit.
Piss-Master slipped his leash on to the ring in my collar, grabbed his keys and my wallet, and pulled me to the door.
My apartment was on the first floor, so we were able to leave the building through the lobby without running into a single neighbor. It was almost 9:00pm on a weeknight, and the streets were quiet, but in the parking lot a young boy looked my way and wolf-whistled…Piss-master still was holding the leash, so I can only imagine what he thought he was seeing in the darkened lot. Maybe his hormones made my flat chest look developed, or maybe he was gay. Again, I was blushing terribly and sweating…I had not been allowed to put on deodorant and the body shave had taken away the hair that might absorb some of the sweat. Add the Piss-Master’s piss and I stank. Where were we going, I wondered?
We approached an old green panel van and Piss-Master opened the rear doors, indicating I should get in. I clam aboard, and he followed, pulling the doors closed behind him. Inside, he grabbed my cock through the shorts and fondled it, heaping on the verbal abuse…
“Hey little whore boy-girl…what’s this I feel? Can’t be a cock cause only real men have those…you got a really big clit? Is that it? Did you stuff some socks down there to show off?”
I kept silent, sitting on the exposed metal bottom of the van, now really hard and leaking. A wet spot appeared dead center on the black shorts. No one would doubt what that was all about.
He climbed between the front seats, told me to hold on, and pulled out onto the highway. The floor of the van was fitly, and I was getting grease and pieces of sawdust on my slut-wear. Great, I thought, I’ll be a dirty whore.
There were no windows in the sides of the van, and I was busy trying not to fall on my face as he rushed through the streets, quickly taking curves left and right.
After fifteen minutes or so bright light showed through the windshield and I saw a sign with those All-American words: Save-Mart. He pulled the van up mercifully close to the store, which I knew was open till Midnight. It must have been close to eleven.
Piss-Master turned around in his seat: “OK, gender-fuck, here’s your shopping list: get yourself some girly underwear, in your size. If you come back and they aren’t girly enough I swear I’ll send you back in without the shorts on. Now get that ass in there…the night’s not over yet!”
i didn’t bother arguing, and got out of the van trying to pull the shorts and cut -off shirt up and down to cover as much of my bare skin as possible.
The trip into the store consisted of me walking and every clerk and shopper within five aisles staring at me. In San Francisco, or New York, I might have gotten away with this look without too much attention, but here in the South I was an instant celebrity. Several shoppers took photos with their camera phones, trying to be discrete about it but being obvious anyway.
I swished and sweated and blushed my way to the women’s section, keeping my eyes on the tile floor, glancing up enough only to get to the counter where saw the underwear. I pawed through the packages, but couldn’t find anything that appeared to be big enough. I’m not at all fat, but I am a guy. I needed the plus-size, big-girl selection.
“Can I help you sweetie?”
Naturally, the question came from the only cute clerk in the store, a 20 year old manager-type attracted by the customer’s murmurs about me. I looked up, and recognized him as a former classmate. I was about to die.
“Uh, hi Brian. I need some large, um, panties,” I offered.
“Large? How large?” he asked, twisting the knife.
“Well, she’s, uh, she’s a big girl, kinda...well…she…”
“Is she about your size?”
Again, that blushing! “Yes.”
Brian reached out and took me by the hand and pulled be toward the back the department…”Come on, let’s go over here…”
We walked through a door marked “Private”, then into a shipping and receiving area that was empty that late at night.
“Try ‘em on,” he said, handing me a package of hot pink lace panties…I know it’s against policy, but we’ll make an exceptions since I know you, slut.”
His words stung, since we had been casual friends in school, and even shared a room once on a school trip.
i pulled down the shorts and was about to put on the panties when he stopped me: “lose the dirty whites, whore-boy.”
i removed the piss-stained bikini whites, exposing my completely shaved crotch to Brian, and slid the new pink panties up in place.
He reached across to adjust them, his hand rubbing up against my belly area in the process: “Oops, looks like I got my hand dirty, cocksucker, you’d better lick it clean. He held out his hand, which I automatically started licking…was I incapable of saying no to an order?
Brian pushed me to my knees as licked his hand, making sure to suck on each of his fingers…the other hand followed, and then Brian opened his pants and pulled out his cock.
“Do you know what this is, boy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell me!”
“It’s a cock, Sir”
“Do you have one?”
“No, sir”
“What do you have?”
“I have a penis, Sir.”
“Let me see it.”
I reached down and pulled my parts out over the top of the new panties, wondering that he used the same line of reasoning that Piss-Master did, having me call it “my penis”.
“Pretty miserable excuse for a cock...take mine, take the real cock in this room in your mouth and play with your little penis thing.”
I did as told, not sucking or anything, just keeping is semi-hard cock in my mouth. After a moment, my mouth was watering and my own little penis was stiff as I jerked off.
Suddenly Brian started peeing, and it was obvious he had been holding it for a while. His piss had that strong flavor that comes from sitting in the body for a while. Nonetheless I gulped it gratefully; glad to be used, turned on by the continued humiliation of the evening. When he was almost done, he pulled out, saving his last spurt to spray the new panties.
As he zipped up, he told me to put the white bikini back on, to put the new pink panties over them, and then the white shorts.
“Time to go, fag-slut, I’ll see that you get a supply of nice girly panties delivered. You can pay me later on your knees, since that seems to be where you are most comfortable…”
He led me to the door and we left the stockroom. It was a very long walk to the front door, with more camera phone clicking and whispering. I think I saw two women who used to be friends of my parents.
Outside, Piss-Master was waiting in the van.
“You took you long enough! Where are the panties?”
I explained about Brian and lowered the shorts to show him the pair I was wearing.
“Well get used to them, you’ll be wearing that pair till your friend gets around to sending you some more!”
Suddenly I realized that Brian didn’t have my address! How would he send me the panties? Before I could panic or say anything, I got my answer as we pulled out of the parking lot. Brian walked out the front door and waved to Piss-Master, who waved back, friends it would seem, and co-conspirators in my evening’s debasement. Brian knew where I lived, and probably a lot more.
To be continued
Ofelia
- 24.11.2022
- 4
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