A kinky story written by Andrew Martin | Chapter 3+4

Click here to see all published chapters. Illustration by Theo Blaze.

Food shopping might not be everyone’s idea of fun, but I’ve always kind of liked it. That’s especially true when I’m shopping for items to make for Master Rob’s party, as it just seems so much more important when it’s for him than when I’m shopping for myself.

Nothing is going to be frozen for this party, so I head to the meat section to get some nice sirloin to grind up for burgers. Really good cheese, fresh veggies, artisan rolls (even Master Rob doesn’t expect me to bake hamburger buns) and then some veggies to cut up and ingredients for a dip. (No pre-packaged veggie dip tray for my hot master.) I’m browsing through the produce section when one of the employees comes over to me. 

“I think you should come with me,” he says. Now the guy looks pretty good, mid-20s, Italian, very intense eyes, but I have work to do. “I’m sorry,” I say, “but I really need to get my shopping done.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “I know. Rob told me, but he also said you would have enough time for me. His words: For a few minutes, make my faggot yours.” Too stunned to say anything, I just nod and follow him into the back.

WTF? Master Rob never had pimped me out before (which is another reason why Sunday was a little scary) and I certainly never thought he wouldn’t mention it to me first. “Make my faggot yours.” So does that mean I have to be this produce guy’s bitch? Wow.

So we go into the back of the store and through this heavy plastic curtain to a large, cold room full of boxes of vegetables. “I know it’s cold, faggot, but this is the only room back here where nobody is likely to wander in.” 

I’m still kind of freaked out, but clearly he knows he can use me the way he wants and just as clearly Master Rob told him I was going to be there today. After all, he knew exactly which shopper to approach. And it’s not like he was ugly. 

“I have some piss for you, pussyboy,” he said. I immediately walk over close to him and drop to my knees. He takes out a nice-sized piece and lays it across my face. “I know Rob needs his fag to get things done, so this won’t take too long. Swallow my piss before I fuck your brains out.” He puts his dick in my mouth and I take about one-third of it into my mouth. It takes a little bit of time before the flow starts. “That’s it, you lucky faggot. Savor every bit of that nasty piss.” I keep up with the flow — I did not want to lick any piss off of this floor, which was basically like a garage floor. When he’s done, he takes his dick out and slaps my face with it. It’s not hard yet, and it felt good. “You know, I never did that before and I thought Rob was crazy when he said I should do that. But that was pretty hot. I just might have to find my own faggot.”

I say nothing, but, remembering what he said before he started pissing, I undo my pants, drop them to the floor and bend over a stack of boxes. “You are ready for this fuck tool, aren’t you faggot? Chicks love this meat, and you will, too. Not that that part matters much, right, boy?” “Right, Sir. It’s all about your pleasure.” “Fuck yeah, bitch.” And with that he lines up the head of his cock with my anxious hole and starts to shove it in. No lube, no spit, no nothing. I scream, but he quickly covers my mouth with his hand. “Lick my hand, fag, and scream like that again and I’ll give you a better reason to scream.” I start to lick his fingers when his other hand comes up to my face. He now is holding my head in both hands with fingers entering my mouth from each side.

By the time I started to lick fingers on each hand, he is almost in me, and it hurts like hell. It had been a couple of years since anyone fucked me without lube, and that was a 21-year-old black kid who could have shoved a Louisville Slugger up my cunt and I would have thanked him. Yeah he was that hot. This guy looked good, but I was still so confused by how I happened to be in the back room of this supermarket with a guy Master Rob knows just starting to fuck me raw. Suddenly, the more depressing aspects of being a slave entered my head. Here I was, a toy for the use of anybody my master might know. I started to feel sorry for myself when produce guy says, “Arch your back, fag. This is just starting to get good.” 

And that’s when any more self-esteem issues left my body, perhaps pushed out of me by this Italian cock slamming into my guts. If serving this guy pleased Master Rob, then who was I to spend any time thinking about the meaning of it all? Then I thought that this guy undoubtedly would report to Master Rob, and the better time he had the better it likely would be for me, and suddenly I was into it. I started to join him in the motion, shoving my ass back onto his cock with a fury that led to the collisions of man crotch and faggot ass to make the most glorious sound. I went from reluctant bottom bitch to cock-craving whore in seconds, and he noticed. 

“Damn, fag, you really do love dick deep in your pussy, don’t you?” I don’t say a word, choosing instead to thrust backward even harder, squeezing my rectum as best as I could. I have to admit, getting a near-raping in the back room of a supermarket was pretty hot, and this guy clearly had dom genes in him. Just when I started to wonder if he was gay or straight, he went into overdrive. 

“You are going to get my load, pussyboy, and it’s going to be a big one. Want it, faggot?” I just moaned in response, continuing to squeeze his dick as he neared his climax. And then it came, spurt after spurt, flooding my hole with his hot cream.

“I hear you fags clean cocks after they breed your pussy,” he says, not yet pulling out. “Yes, Sir,” I replied. He slowly let his softening dick slide out of my very raw ass, then moved around to my other hole. Without a word, I take the dick in my mouth and slurp off all of the fag juices for him. At least that’s what my old master said when he trained me to do that. “No man wants to finish raping his faggot and then walk away with the fag juices still on his dick. Clean it for him to show respect.” I loved that man, and while I have no feelings for the produce guy, I cleaned his cock the way I would my original master’s. 

“That is hot,” he said. “Bitches don’t do that. I might have to jump the fence more often.”

“You were great, Sir. Thank you for fucking me and thank you for your load and thank you for your piss.” (More original master training.) He smirked at that and told me to pull up my pants. “Now I get to enjoy knowing that as you go through your day you will have my sperm in your faggot cunt. Hope that sticks in your head the same way it will stick in your ass.”

I buckle my belt and start to leave. I turn to him and ask, “Was I OK, Sir?” “Satisfactory, for a fag,” he said. “Come here. Let me kiss you good-bye.” He didn’t know that much, did he? Oh, but he did. He grabbed my face in both hands, hocked up a juicy one and sent it right into my mouth. He watched it slide around my tongue, smirking at his new conquest, and then gently slapped the side of my face. “Good job, fag. See you tomorrow.”

I started to walk away without even realizing what he had said. By the time I got to the alcohol section it dawned on me that “see you tomorrow” meant he was going to be one of Master Rob’s party guests. 

With less than 24 hours to go before the party, there was little chance I was going to meet any of the others, but damn. That was one hell of an introduction.


I spent a small fortune getting supplies for Master Rob’s party. I have no idea whether I’ll have enough time to prepare everything to his satisfaction, but when it’s all for the most awesome man ever, you don’t think of things like your bank account and you definitely don’t think of things like failing him. You don’t think much at all. You just do.

Doing right now meant getting my very sore ass — I hadn’t been fucked without lube in a while — into my car and heading back to my apartment to start doing whatever I could in advance for the party. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen. At least not yet. When I walked in I saw Master Rob sitting in his recliner, naked, waiting for me. As he usually didn’t spend too much non-sexual time at my place, I had expected him to have gone home while I was at the supermarket. But I didn’t think of one thing, which he immediately brought up.

“So, fag, does Nick’s piss taste better than mine?”

Shit. I should have known the supermarket raping was his idea. I lied. “No, Sir, your piss is what I crave more than almost anything else in the world.”

“Bullshit. You know what happens when you lie to me.”

“But Sir –” “Shut up, faggot, or do you want to go for 20?”

“No, Sir.” “Then get your lying, pathetic ass over here.”

I know what’s coming is going to hurt, but I also know I’ll be as close to his face as I ever get, and at least I’ll be able to watch his face while he administers the punishment. “I hope you liked taking Nick’s dick without lube, fag, because you know you don’t get any when you lie.”

I started to wonder just how much of what Nick did was choreographed by Master Rob and how much was Nick just having fun. Knowing Master Rob, it was mostly the former. Maybe all of it. Not that anyone couldn’t figure out how to have fun with a submissive faggot, but Master Rob knows just what buttons to push to show his control while he’s having fun.

“Well, it looks like I’m not quite hard enough for your cunt, bitch, so you better get that pussy mouth on me and make it hard. And fast,” Master Rob was going to make me ride him, and the only lube his beautiful dick was going to have was whatever spit I could get on it over the next few minutes. But that wasn’t even the punishment — how could a hard dick deep inside me be considered punishment? Maybe if it was wrapped in sandpaper …

“Can’t get enough of that meat, can you faggot?” Master Rob looks down at me, his right hand on the top of my head. I have to admit I love being this close to him, but knowing what’s coming next makes it hard to enjoy it. 

“I think that’s hard enough. Now get up on there and let gravity work its magic,” he instructed. I’ve learned not to dawdle when Master Rob wants in, and I straddle him, facing his handsome face. “Open,” he commands. I open wide and immediately get rewarded with spit. “Damn fag, I should start smoking just to blow smoke in this pussymouth. You take everything else.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well, you know why you’re up there. You start riding while I administer your punishment.”

Part of me can’t believe I am going to be put through serious pain just for saying I liked Master Rob’s piss better than Nick the produce guy’s. Seriously? But Master Rob refuses to punish me without cause, and, since I am a very obedient faggot, he has to invent things for me to screw up. Like today.

I am not dumb enough to try and evade what’s going to happen, so I put my hands on his shoulders as I lower my faghole down to his dick. Already sore from the supermarket, it hurts almost immediately. Master Rob is usually quite generous with the lube because he enjoys the feeling of a sloppy hole, but he wants to punish me his desire is less about his pleasure and more about my pain. I try to make as little noise as possible as I take more of that magnificent dick into my pussy, and soon I feel his rough pubes on my ass.

“Have your tits gotten fatter, fag? You trying to turn into a voluptuous woman?” The taunt makes me look very sheepishly at him, which signals the beginning of my punishment. With each hand he grabs one of my tits and twists them both at the same time. Hard. Really hard. I scream in pain, bringing out that sexy smirk of his. “Pretty loud scream for Level 1 of the Tit Squeezing. Stupid faggot.” And with that comes twist number two. It feels like he grabbed a bigger chunk of flesh, which hurt like hell, but that also meant less pressure on the nipples itself. So a bit less pain.

He seemed to sense that, and he put his arms behind my back and pulled me toward him. For a split second, I fantasize that he loves me — my ass has swallowed his dick, his arms are around me, his head is inches from my chest. That heavenly feeling passes quickly as he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into my right tit. It feels like he’s trying to tear it right off. Tears are now visible, but I hurt too much to scream. This was the most pain he’s ever put me in, and who knows how much more I’ll get. He kind of chews, not that hard, while his tongue swirls around my nipple. He knows I have very little sensitivity, and even the tongue means discomfort.

“You are supposed to be riding. Get your fat ass moving.” Oh yeah, I am supposed to be riding his now rock-hard dick. At least he took his mouth off of my tit to say that. Of course, his mouth has more than one use. “Open, faggot!” he snarls at me, and I get another spitwad to savor. “Show it to me.” I open my mouth so he can see I didn’t swallow it too quickly. The first time he spit in my mouth, I swirled it around inside, savoring the precious fluid he was kind of enough to share with me, and it got him excited. Now, especially when he hocked up a juicy one, he really got into seeing me not only accept the degradation but enjoy it. To this day I don’t know if he knows I actually enjoy it or if I do that to please him. 

“Number four!” he shouts as both hands twist both nipples again. Imagine trying to stop a faucet from dripping, but it just won’t. That’s how tightly he was twisting me, but I did a good job of staying quiet through the torture, thankful that he counted the nasty bite as number three. Sometimes that doesn’t count and it’s just extra.

Without a word, he sinks his teeth into my left tit, and I can’t stop myself from howling at the pain of that. “Fuck you’re a whiny bitch today. You know I want them to look the same.” They undoubtedly will, very red with teeth marks around them. The weird thing is usually after he does this I look at my chest in the mirror and feel proud of myself for being able to take this much for him. I want to be the best faggot possible for this wonderful man, and sometimes I try to trick myself into believing Master Rob is proud of me. 

Master Rob moves his hands to my sides and tries to pull me down harder on his dick. It doesn’t do much, but it does make me try to ride a little harder and squeeze his dick with my ass. He moans — slightly, it’s not Master Rob’s style to show me anything I’m doing is pleasing him; the most I get is a pat on the head and “Good, fag” at the end — and then comes the next twist. Except he alternates this time, right hand twists my left nipple clockwise, then left hand twists my right nipple counterclockwise. Then the reverse. He does this until he has given each one a sharp twist in each direction twice. Then, without hesitation, I get another bite in the left tit. He doesn’t sink his teeth in right away, but he holds his teeth in the same position as he slowly bites down harder. Every instinct in my body wants to get my arms from behind my back and push his head off of me, but I can’t do it. Not because it hurts too much, but because that would be an ungrateful thing to do to Master Rob.

Satisfied that each tit had been painfully twisted 10 times, my usual punishment, it was time to move on. After all, Master Rob’s least favorite position was me riding him, and he only used it when he wanted to punish me. Every other time, he was the one who controlled the pace of action.

“My wrists are tired, cuntboy. Get off of me and bend over the sofa.” Somehow, my first thought at hearing this is I’m not going to have time to get the appetizers ready and into the refrigerator for tomorrow, not that he will be pounding the shit out of me with that unlubed dick, probably while smacking my ass. But within seconds, that’s exactly what’s happening, as he puts all of his weight into each thrust. My poor hole has taken a beating today, two cocks without lube, but shortly after he starts the all-out assault I’m at peace. This is why I’m here, at least in his mind. I might love giving him a foot massage or a back rub, I might enjoy cooking him dinner and licking his ripe armpits, but he’s here for the ass. At least I thought that, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

“That fat ass is looking nice and red, but I don’t think it’s the same shade as your new teeth marks,” he says. “Please, Sir, no fag wants to look out of fashion. Please make them the same color.” “I’d be happy to do that for you, fag,” he responds. I know he gets a kick out of me simultaneously asking for more pain and mocking the gay man’s sense of fashion. He shoves his cock all the way in and stops for a moment, allowing himself to put all of his energy into spanking me. I get three hard smacks on each cheek, then he pauses until the color rises enough and pretend to “examine” them. “That ought to do it. Besides, I need to get off, and I know your ass needs my real-man juice.”

OK, that part is definitely true. He knows how much I want him to breed me. I love everything else, but I NEED that load deep in my guts. And Master Rob obliges a few moments later, after a few more wicked thrusts (wicked-good thrusts, as the natives would say!) his seed shoots into me, where it belongs. When he’s done, he holds his dick inside me for a while and runs his hands underneath me up to my tits, where he roughly rubs them both at the same time. This hurts like hell, and I whimper in pain. I know he loves that, and at this stage of his use of me I know I don’t have much more to worry about. He slides out of me and stands there, waiting.

I push myself off of the sofa and turn around, dropping to my knees to clean him. He puts both hands on my head and pulls me toward him, and I open my mouth for one of my favorite things. What good faggot doesn’t enjoy cleaning his master’s cock after it is finished breeding him? My original master taught me to always clean a real man’s cock as a thank-you, and I started offering it to every man who raped me. It surprised me how several of them never had it before. It didn’t surprise me when those guys told me how hot it was. 

When he was satisfied, he went over to the bed, where he had put his clothes while I was getting used by Nick the produce guy. He started to get dressed while I remained kneeling where I had cleaned him. When he was completely dressed he came back over to me and pulled my face against his crotch. “OK, fag. I’m out of here. You are to do whatever food prep you have to do tonight while staying naked. In the morning, after you shower, put on your new panties. There’s a bag for you next to your bed. Inside you will find an apron to wear tomorrow over your panties. Aside from socks or slippers or whatever, that’s your entire uniform for tomorrow. A purple apron and pink panties. I’ll make sure I get here before anybody else. I told them 2 o’clock, so plan on having some of the pregame snacks ready by then. Now let me kiss you good night.”

I look up at him and open my mouth wide. No spit this time, just precious drool that takes way too long to land on my tongue. But he pushes more out for me to enjoy, and soon my mouth is filled with more of his saliva than my own. “Be good tomorrow, faggot,” he says as he leaves me alone, kneeling on the floor, my ass dripping with his cum and my mouth filled with his spit. 

See? Master Rob does love his faggot. 

To be continued …

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