Remote Control Love Slave
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REMOTE CONTROL SLAVE (PART 5) free porn video
Remote Control Slave
Part 5
Cock Master left me alone for the rest of the day and night. He had errands to run, he told me, and ordered me to withdraw $300 from my savings to pay for his purchases. He gave me a list of chores to accomplish…the entire apartment was to be scrubbed clean, and I was to wear nothing except a diaper and my plain brown dog dollar while doing it.
As promised, he had taken away my little-boy underoos, and they had not yet been replaced. I was also under orders to drink lots of fluids, but to NOT piss. He said he would call at some point and then I could ask permission to relieve myself. He had inserted the next size in my training butt plugs, and had placed some plain wooden clothes pins on my tits, replacing the endurance clamps I had endured for several hours earlier in the day.
By 6:00pm I had finished the cleaning, and was ready to burst! I kept looking at the phone, willing it to ring. I busied myself with unnecessary dusting and rearranging things on shelves.
Suddenly there was a ringing, and I practically tripped reaching for the phone. I was crossing my legs to keep from wet-ting myself as I answered. “Hello?”
There was no answer, but the ring sounded again and I realized it was the doorbell, not the phone. Cock Master hadn’t told me what to do about the door, so I did what I think he would have ordered me to do had he been there. I lurched across the room and opened it, not knowing who would be seeing me in my slave-boy outfit.
“Hey shithead, get out of the way,” a stranger said as he barged past me into the apartment. Slamming the door shut behind him, he glanced around and turned to face me.
Sex slut that I am, I took note of how gorgeous he was, ignoring that fact that this complete stranger could very well be here to rob and murder me. He was about 5’ 10” and very muscular, with wide shoulders. The bright white boy-beater he was wearing allowed me to glimpse jet-black hair sprouting out from his pits. He wore form-fitting leather pants that exposed all of the curves of his body, and those were many and large. The hair on his head, also a deep coalmine black, was longish, flowing over his forehead. His green cat-like eyes peered out from behind the hair. All that I took in during the few seconds before he spoke.
“Some fucking slave you are…you look like some kind of baby! First things first…” He walked over to the couch and threw himself down on it…” get these fucking boots and socks off me and show me if you really do know how to lick a man’s feet!”
It was then that I realized who this stranger was…Cock-Master’s friend the one he had sent the camera phone photo of me cleaning his feet that first day!
i made quick work of removing his footwear, reflecting on the fact that feet really did not hold any particular attraction to me, at least they hadn’t before meeting Cock-Master, yet now here i was servicing another master’s feet and from the rod-stiff status of my little cock, loving it!
He was silent, laying his head back on the couch as I worked to give him the best foot-job possible. I worked my tongue in between all of his toes, finding myself oddly turned on by the texture, the aroma, the feel of the individual toes in my mouth. I was learning what foot-fetishists have known forever.
Every now and then he would reach down and flick one of the clothes-pins on my tits.
“Enough!” he shouted suddenly, jumping up and pushing me onto the floor onto my back.
“We have work to do before Ricker, your master returns! Where’s your bottle?”
i was confused for a moment, and then realized Cock Master had probably told him everything about me and my duties. I retrieved the baby bottle from the refrigerator. It was half-full.
“What’s in this?” he demanded.
“My piss, Sir,” I replied.
“Drink it shithead…hurry up…toss it down.”
I unscrewed the nipple head on the bottle and drank the rest of the refrigerated piss.
He pulled the empty bottle from my hand.
A fast order: “Get on your knees, open my zipper and pull out my cock, then aim it into the bottle slut-face.”
Everything was happening so fast…I still didn’t know how to address this man, and here I was holding his cock so he could piss! The zipper went down without difficulty, but he was wearing bikini briefs, and I had to work to get his big tool out in the open. His lush black pubes complicated the job, but finally I had it out and aimed. We were both silent for a moment as he mentally ordered his plumbing to work, then the flow started, a golden hued pee with an almost spicy and salt scent to it…u*********sly, I licked my lips as he filled the bottle. When no more would fit in, he paused, grabbed my head and directed it to his crotch.
“Open up cocksucker,” came his order.
I obeyed, of course, and soon had my wish fulfilled with a mouthful of his piss. I swallowed quickly to keep up with his waterfall like flow. It was warm, tangy and delicious, and I again felt one of those spontaneous orgasms coming. I successfully willed myself to hold off.
When he finished, he commanded me to put his cock back inside the tight leathers and zip him closed again. After I finished struggling to stuff his oversized rod into the tight pants, he told me to put the nipple cover back on the bottle and to stay on my knees.
“Start sucking on you bottle slut,” he ordered. “I don’t want a fucking’ word out of that mouth, and I don’t want you removing that bottle unless you hear me tell you. Understand?”
I nodded yes, sucking away at getting his still warm piss out of the bottle.
He pulled a leash from his pocket, attached it to my collar, and pulled me into the bathroom. In his other hand he had picked up a canvas bag he’d brought with him. Inside the small bathroom, he tied off the leash to a towel bar and ordered me to my knees.
As i sucked on the bottle, the urge to piss returned…I think the uncertainty of what was happening before had forced me to forget. Now I had to decide what to do…wet my diaper…ask for permission…try to hold it? I decided to ask.
“Srrrr,” I slurred around the bottle nipple.
He ignored me or didn’t hear me.
“Srrrrr?”
He had started doing something in the shower…I couldn’t see what…but he turned quickly and glared at me.
“What the fuck? Who told you to say anything? Do you have any brains at all shithead?
I was actually blushing, embarrassed by being called out by this stranger…as if kneeling in a diaper with a baby bottle in my mouth and a dog collar on somehow wasn’t embarrassing enough.
“You have NOTHING to say to me. Understand? You will speak only when I ask you a question. If you have to piss or crap, that’s what you are in a diaper, you stupid fuck.”
He turned back to his work, whatever it was he was doing, and I released what felt like three gallons of pee into the diaper. Peeing had never felt so good. The diaper absorbed much of it, but still, a puddle formed on the tile beneath me.
Without even turning around, he demanded: “And lick that off the floor…your Master told you to have the place spotless, and that means none of your worthless watery piss on the floor.
I bent down and licked it up, glad that I had done a good job earlier cleaning the bathroom floor. Still, there was a somewhat distasteful disinfectant taste in my mouth when I finished and resumed my kneeing position. The floor was, indeed, spotless.
There was some hammering going on, and glancing slightly off to the side, I could see he was installing huge industrial sized eye bolts into the walls of the shower.
A few drops had fallen from the saturated diaper, and I took the initiative to bend down and lick them off the floor. He glanced my way but said nothing, so I presumed it was what he wanted. That happened several times as he finished up his installation.
Eventually he finished, and sat down on the closed toilet, just two feet away from me. I was glancing downward, waiting for him to give me an order or something.
From his canvas bag, he pulled out a cloth and tied it around my head as a blindfold.
“I don’t want to have to look at you, but even more I don’t want your scum sucking eyes looking at me. Here’s the schedule for the next few hours shit-face…I’m going to tie you up in your shower and prepare you for your master…your Cock Master. Then you’re going on a little shopping trip…and then, if you are really, really good, we might let you suck some cock…but as miserable as you are at obeying orders, I doubt you’ll get to that point. Now get your ass up and into the shower! And take off your diaper!”
I jumped in and did as told, dropping the diaper to the bottom of the shower. He attached my leather foot and arm restraints to me, using short pieces of rope to attach me, spread eagle, to the shower enclosure.
“I owe your Cock Master a really big favor…just in case you’re wondering why I agreed to deal with you…”
I had in fact wondered, but from my standing position I could also see the bulge in his crotch. It was larger than when he arrived at my door, and I knew at least some part of him was enjoying my humiliations.
“Didn’t your other Master…the one in the other country…didn’t he tell you to stay shaved? What the fuck are these hairs?”
He was right. It had been over three days since I had shaved my body, so busy was I following Cock Masters orders. There were hairs showing on my crotch, and even longer ones on my balls.
“These will come out easily enough,” he said as I felt the first hair on my balls pulled out with a tweezers he held. Involuntarily I screamed…and he quickly removed a ball-gag from the magical canvas bag that seemed bottomless. With me properly gagged, he continued.
He pulled hair after hair from my balls, each one producing a sharp pain and a very muffled reaction from me. After he pulled a hair, he would “snap” one of the balls with his fingers. It was enormously painful, and his commentary didn’t help.
“This one here is for not moving quickly enough when I told you to lick the floor clean!” Snap. Ugh!
“This one here is for your puny little dickett you’re not man enough to have hair anyway! You‘re more, like some little girl!” Snap. Ugh!
“I can’t wait to report to your Master what a shitfaced little cunt slave you’ve been…he may just cut you off and move on to a more worthwhile slave!” Snap. Ugh!
All through the hair pulling and snapping on my balls I wondered if he would do the same to the hair on my groin and in my crack and elsewhere, and I wished I had followed orders better and kept myself shaved. Yet through it all, I stayed hard.
Finally he finished with the balls, which I guessed were fiery red from the assault.
Next I felt him using a washcloth to rub the area around my crotch, lifting my balls to get underneath and between my ass cheeks…after a moment I could smell the odor of hair remover, and I was grateful he hadn’t used it on my balls…a mistake I had e made once myself and though I would die from the pain. While the lotion worked on my midsection, he resumed his hair pulling, this time in my armpits, again with a running commentary.
“Little boys and girls don’t have hair in their armpits, you cocksucker slave boy! This has better teach you a lesson...keep this hair off or I’ll be back to do this all over again and I won’t be nearly as nice the next time!”
It took him about an hour to do the whole job, and then he took the shower hose and washed me down, finally removing the ropes and ordering me to wash the rest of the hair off and dry off. I did as I was told, of course.
“You are such a cunt slave cocksucker, boy. Get over here and lick my armpits clean.”
I still had my blindfold on, but was able to maneuver to him and work my tongue into his pits, which were ripe…while I had showered, he hadn’t. I licked away, in slave-boy heaven.
During my years as a “bottom”, I had often found that what some tops used as punishment was actually enjoyable to me. Whether or not I let them know that fact allowed me some control over my own punishments. Of course, a true slave boy, one committed to a Master for life, would immediately report that pleasure, of course, allowing the Master to adjust the activity to make it less enjoyable and more a punishment. Right now felt I had been punished enough and stayed silent as I licked his wonderful pits clean.
Another thing i had discovered: some activities start as punishment, and then cross over to the enjoyable side. When I first started drinking piss, it was more or less a punishment, a humiliation, by now though, I enjoyed it, and regularly drank my own, even when there was no master around to make me do so.
I was done with his pits…I had licked them so much the hairs were soaked with my saliva, plastered evenly up and down his pit. I thought it looked beautiful and only stopped licking reluctantly.
From the magical bag he produced a new diaper, put it on me and told me to piss.
I tried, I really did, but it had only been less than an hour since the floodgates had burst into the other diaper and I had nothing to give.
“Fine, bitch, you can wear my marking for the trip,” he said as he opened his zipper and started pissing into my new diaper. He placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me down onto my knees again, and anointed my hair with his piss. Again, some of it leaked onto the floor, so I ended up down there again, licking the tile clean.
When i was done, he handed me a pair of my jeans and a t-shirt and ordered me into them, keeping the wet diaper on.
“Shopping time, cunt-boy…the bitch needs to get her some appropriate underwear. And by the way, you are to call me Piss-Master from now on, since you‘re wearing mine out in public.”
To be continued
Part 5
Cock Master left me alone for the rest of the day and night. He had errands to run, he told me, and ordered me to withdraw $300 from my savings to pay for his purchases. He gave me a list of chores to accomplish…the entire apartment was to be scrubbed clean, and I was to wear nothing except a diaper and my plain brown dog dollar while doing it.
As promised, he had taken away my little-boy underoos, and they had not yet been replaced. I was also under orders to drink lots of fluids, but to NOT piss. He said he would call at some point and then I could ask permission to relieve myself. He had inserted the next size in my training butt plugs, and had placed some plain wooden clothes pins on my tits, replacing the endurance clamps I had endured for several hours earlier in the day.
By 6:00pm I had finished the cleaning, and was ready to burst! I kept looking at the phone, willing it to ring. I busied myself with unnecessary dusting and rearranging things on shelves.
Suddenly there was a ringing, and I practically tripped reaching for the phone. I was crossing my legs to keep from wet-ting myself as I answered. “Hello?”
There was no answer, but the ring sounded again and I realized it was the doorbell, not the phone. Cock Master hadn’t told me what to do about the door, so I did what I think he would have ordered me to do had he been there. I lurched across the room and opened it, not knowing who would be seeing me in my slave-boy outfit.
“Hey shithead, get out of the way,” a stranger said as he barged past me into the apartment. Slamming the door shut behind him, he glanced around and turned to face me.
Sex slut that I am, I took note of how gorgeous he was, ignoring that fact that this complete stranger could very well be here to rob and murder me. He was about 5’ 10” and very muscular, with wide shoulders. The bright white boy-beater he was wearing allowed me to glimpse jet-black hair sprouting out from his pits. He wore form-fitting leather pants that exposed all of the curves of his body, and those were many and large. The hair on his head, also a deep coalmine black, was longish, flowing over his forehead. His green cat-like eyes peered out from behind the hair. All that I took in during the few seconds before he spoke.
“Some fucking slave you are…you look like some kind of baby! First things first…” He walked over to the couch and threw himself down on it…” get these fucking boots and socks off me and show me if you really do know how to lick a man’s feet!”
It was then that I realized who this stranger was…Cock-Master’s friend the one he had sent the camera phone photo of me cleaning his feet that first day!
i made quick work of removing his footwear, reflecting on the fact that feet really did not hold any particular attraction to me, at least they hadn’t before meeting Cock-Master, yet now here i was servicing another master’s feet and from the rod-stiff status of my little cock, loving it!
He was silent, laying his head back on the couch as I worked to give him the best foot-job possible. I worked my tongue in between all of his toes, finding myself oddly turned on by the texture, the aroma, the feel of the individual toes in my mouth. I was learning what foot-fetishists have known forever.
Every now and then he would reach down and flick one of the clothes-pins on my tits.
“Enough!” he shouted suddenly, jumping up and pushing me onto the floor onto my back.
“We have work to do before Ricker, your master returns! Where’s your bottle?”
i was confused for a moment, and then realized Cock Master had probably told him everything about me and my duties. I retrieved the baby bottle from the refrigerator. It was half-full.
“What’s in this?” he demanded.
“My piss, Sir,” I replied.
“Drink it shithead…hurry up…toss it down.”
I unscrewed the nipple head on the bottle and drank the rest of the refrigerated piss.
He pulled the empty bottle from my hand.
A fast order: “Get on your knees, open my zipper and pull out my cock, then aim it into the bottle slut-face.”
Everything was happening so fast…I still didn’t know how to address this man, and here I was holding his cock so he could piss! The zipper went down without difficulty, but he was wearing bikini briefs, and I had to work to get his big tool out in the open. His lush black pubes complicated the job, but finally I had it out and aimed. We were both silent for a moment as he mentally ordered his plumbing to work, then the flow started, a golden hued pee with an almost spicy and salt scent to it…u*********sly, I licked my lips as he filled the bottle. When no more would fit in, he paused, grabbed my head and directed it to his crotch.
“Open up cocksucker,” came his order.
I obeyed, of course, and soon had my wish fulfilled with a mouthful of his piss. I swallowed quickly to keep up with his waterfall like flow. It was warm, tangy and delicious, and I again felt one of those spontaneous orgasms coming. I successfully willed myself to hold off.
When he finished, he commanded me to put his cock back inside the tight leathers and zip him closed again. After I finished struggling to stuff his oversized rod into the tight pants, he told me to put the nipple cover back on the bottle and to stay on my knees.
“Start sucking on you bottle slut,” he ordered. “I don’t want a fucking’ word out of that mouth, and I don’t want you removing that bottle unless you hear me tell you. Understand?”
I nodded yes, sucking away at getting his still warm piss out of the bottle.
He pulled a leash from his pocket, attached it to my collar, and pulled me into the bathroom. In his other hand he had picked up a canvas bag he’d brought with him. Inside the small bathroom, he tied off the leash to a towel bar and ordered me to my knees.
As i sucked on the bottle, the urge to piss returned…I think the uncertainty of what was happening before had forced me to forget. Now I had to decide what to do…wet my diaper…ask for permission…try to hold it? I decided to ask.
“Srrrr,” I slurred around the bottle nipple.
He ignored me or didn’t hear me.
“Srrrrr?”
He had started doing something in the shower…I couldn’t see what…but he turned quickly and glared at me.
“What the fuck? Who told you to say anything? Do you have any brains at all shithead?
I was actually blushing, embarrassed by being called out by this stranger…as if kneeling in a diaper with a baby bottle in my mouth and a dog collar on somehow wasn’t embarrassing enough.
“You have NOTHING to say to me. Understand? You will speak only when I ask you a question. If you have to piss or crap, that’s what you are in a diaper, you stupid fuck.”
He turned back to his work, whatever it was he was doing, and I released what felt like three gallons of pee into the diaper. Peeing had never felt so good. The diaper absorbed much of it, but still, a puddle formed on the tile beneath me.
Without even turning around, he demanded: “And lick that off the floor…your Master told you to have the place spotless, and that means none of your worthless watery piss on the floor.
I bent down and licked it up, glad that I had done a good job earlier cleaning the bathroom floor. Still, there was a somewhat distasteful disinfectant taste in my mouth when I finished and resumed my kneeing position. The floor was, indeed, spotless.
There was some hammering going on, and glancing slightly off to the side, I could see he was installing huge industrial sized eye bolts into the walls of the shower.
A few drops had fallen from the saturated diaper, and I took the initiative to bend down and lick them off the floor. He glanced my way but said nothing, so I presumed it was what he wanted. That happened several times as he finished up his installation.
Eventually he finished, and sat down on the closed toilet, just two feet away from me. I was glancing downward, waiting for him to give me an order or something.
From his canvas bag, he pulled out a cloth and tied it around my head as a blindfold.
“I don’t want to have to look at you, but even more I don’t want your scum sucking eyes looking at me. Here’s the schedule for the next few hours shit-face…I’m going to tie you up in your shower and prepare you for your master…your Cock Master. Then you’re going on a little shopping trip…and then, if you are really, really good, we might let you suck some cock…but as miserable as you are at obeying orders, I doubt you’ll get to that point. Now get your ass up and into the shower! And take off your diaper!”
I jumped in and did as told, dropping the diaper to the bottom of the shower. He attached my leather foot and arm restraints to me, using short pieces of rope to attach me, spread eagle, to the shower enclosure.
“I owe your Cock Master a really big favor…just in case you’re wondering why I agreed to deal with you…”
I had in fact wondered, but from my standing position I could also see the bulge in his crotch. It was larger than when he arrived at my door, and I knew at least some part of him was enjoying my humiliations.
“Didn’t your other Master…the one in the other country…didn’t he tell you to stay shaved? What the fuck are these hairs?”
He was right. It had been over three days since I had shaved my body, so busy was I following Cock Masters orders. There were hairs showing on my crotch, and even longer ones on my balls.
“These will come out easily enough,” he said as I felt the first hair on my balls pulled out with a tweezers he held. Involuntarily I screamed…and he quickly removed a ball-gag from the magical canvas bag that seemed bottomless. With me properly gagged, he continued.
He pulled hair after hair from my balls, each one producing a sharp pain and a very muffled reaction from me. After he pulled a hair, he would “snap” one of the balls with his fingers. It was enormously painful, and his commentary didn’t help.
“This one here is for not moving quickly enough when I told you to lick the floor clean!” Snap. Ugh!
“This one here is for your puny little dickett you’re not man enough to have hair anyway! You‘re more, like some little girl!” Snap. Ugh!
“I can’t wait to report to your Master what a shitfaced little cunt slave you’ve been…he may just cut you off and move on to a more worthwhile slave!” Snap. Ugh!
All through the hair pulling and snapping on my balls I wondered if he would do the same to the hair on my groin and in my crack and elsewhere, and I wished I had followed orders better and kept myself shaved. Yet through it all, I stayed hard.
Finally he finished with the balls, which I guessed were fiery red from the assault.
Next I felt him using a washcloth to rub the area around my crotch, lifting my balls to get underneath and between my ass cheeks…after a moment I could smell the odor of hair remover, and I was grateful he hadn’t used it on my balls…a mistake I had e made once myself and though I would die from the pain. While the lotion worked on my midsection, he resumed his hair pulling, this time in my armpits, again with a running commentary.
“Little boys and girls don’t have hair in their armpits, you cocksucker slave boy! This has better teach you a lesson...keep this hair off or I’ll be back to do this all over again and I won’t be nearly as nice the next time!”
It took him about an hour to do the whole job, and then he took the shower hose and washed me down, finally removing the ropes and ordering me to wash the rest of the hair off and dry off. I did as I was told, of course.
“You are such a cunt slave cocksucker, boy. Get over here and lick my armpits clean.”
I still had my blindfold on, but was able to maneuver to him and work my tongue into his pits, which were ripe…while I had showered, he hadn’t. I licked away, in slave-boy heaven.
During my years as a “bottom”, I had often found that what some tops used as punishment was actually enjoyable to me. Whether or not I let them know that fact allowed me some control over my own punishments. Of course, a true slave boy, one committed to a Master for life, would immediately report that pleasure, of course, allowing the Master to adjust the activity to make it less enjoyable and more a punishment. Right now felt I had been punished enough and stayed silent as I licked his wonderful pits clean.
Another thing i had discovered: some activities start as punishment, and then cross over to the enjoyable side. When I first started drinking piss, it was more or less a punishment, a humiliation, by now though, I enjoyed it, and regularly drank my own, even when there was no master around to make me do so.
I was done with his pits…I had licked them so much the hairs were soaked with my saliva, plastered evenly up and down his pit. I thought it looked beautiful and only stopped licking reluctantly.
From the magical bag he produced a new diaper, put it on me and told me to piss.
I tried, I really did, but it had only been less than an hour since the floodgates had burst into the other diaper and I had nothing to give.
“Fine, bitch, you can wear my marking for the trip,” he said as he opened his zipper and started pissing into my new diaper. He placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me down onto my knees again, and anointed my hair with his piss. Again, some of it leaked onto the floor, so I ended up down there again, licking the tile clean.
When i was done, he handed me a pair of my jeans and a t-shirt and ordered me into them, keeping the wet diaper on.
“Shopping time, cunt-boy…the bitch needs to get her some appropriate underwear. And by the way, you are to call me Piss-Master from now on, since you‘re wearing mine out in public.”
To be continued
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