Cindy's Humble Servant Ch. 07

She stepped out of the room, and slammed the door behind her.

Peter went home. His regrets tied themselves around him like evil grasses, and he could find no peace, no ability to purge Cindy's image from his mind's eye, and no strength to renounce his absolute devotion to her. At about 7:00 in the evening he received a text message from Brian that read: "Do not wish for things that are not yours."

His ass was less tender the next day, and he was seated at the desk working on the tasks that Cindy had assigned him over the internal messenger service, when Cindy walked into the room. She came up behind him, and placed a half A4 paper on his keyboard. He could smell her fragrance, a scent that was earthy, full of deep undertones, and yet more exquisite than any perfume. He looked up at her, her breast and her face so close to his. She scowled at him and tapped the page she had handed him. He looked down at it. The blanks had been completed in Cindy's handwriting.

Slave Loan Satisfaction Form

Loaning of Peter made by: Cindy

Peter has been loaned to Steve

Date: 11/09/02 from 6:00 pm to 6:00 am.

Services performed by Peter:

Comments on Peter's obedience:

Signature of borrower:

Peter finished reading, and then turned to face Cindy, who stood in front of him, towering over him. She wore a cruel smile, and in her eyes was a mocking glint. "You can wait for Steve outside of Luga's Villa on Thursday at 6:00," she said brusquely. "Make sure you dress right. Brian want you wear pink collar to meet Steve. You have to be his slave all night. That OK?"

"Yes Cindy, thank you," Peter said humbly.

Cindy curled her lip in disgust. "You need learn. If Brian can't stop you say those things to me, I leave my job. Understand?"

"Yes Cindy. I'm sorry Cindy."

She stared down at him threateningly, and he did not look away. He thought she might slap him, and he so wished she would.

"Here is envelope," she said, tossing it on his desk. "Same thing. Steve sign after he close it. Understand?" She spoke to him as though he were someone very stupid. He imagined her tits were both firm and soft. His cock began to stir.

"Yes, Cindy, I understand."

She turned and left the room. With worship in his heart, he watched her proud, full ass until she closed the door behind herself

He would show her. His absolute devotion could make him bear anything for her.

Cindy let Peter off early on Thursday through the internal message system. Peter found a parking spot in front of Luga's Villa at 5:30, and sat waiting for Steve. His body was oiled and shaved, and he wore the maid's outfit under the ragged grey track suit. He work the pink 'cocksucker' collar, with its heart shaped 'faggot' tag.

At ten past six, Peter saw Steve walking down the street with three other guys. They were joking and laughing. Steve looked around and then noticed Peter's car. He led the other three over, and they all piled in. They were high spirited and boisterous. Steve did not introduce Peter, but took the tag of the collar and showed it to the guys in the back seat. "Hey, faggot," said a young American with spiky hair and a goatee. "Hey, faggot," the others laughed.

"Drive, faggot," Steve said.

"Yes, sir," Peter, replied, and drove on. He followed Steve's directions. Steve had obviously already explained who Peter was, so there were no explanations, and he was for the most part ignored. The three guys in the back seat were very boisterous, and Peter felt nervous and intimidated. Eventually, they pulled up in front of a KTV hostess bar.

"Wait for us here, faggot. Keep your phone nearby. I'll message you if I need you." Steve said to Peter, and then the four men got out of the car and went into the KTV. As they walked away, Peter could hear their harsh words of mockery.

After about an hour, Peter received a text message from Steve, saying: "come in." He approached the gaudy lights of the KTV, and at the door there was a hostess waiting for him. She was dressed in a red chi pa, and she her hair was tied up. The chi pa was slit very high up the sides of her slim legs, and she wore flesh colored stockings. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at his ragged grey tracksuit and pink collar, and said, in very poor English, "Please follow me." He followed her swaying hips down a maze of corridors. From the rooms to either side, he could hear loud music, singing and laughter. When he passed waiters in flouncy yellow shirts, and hostesses in short skirts, they stopped and stared at him.

The hostess in the red chi pa opened the door to a broom closet, and gestured for him to enter. She said, "Please. . . chuang yifu," and made a gesture suggesting taking off clothes. He entered the broom closet, and she closed the door behind him. He took off the grey sweat suit, put on the blonde wig, and slipped off his shoes. He stepped into his white, high heeled sandals. He was now in his maids outfit, garter, and nylons. He rolled his shoes up inside the grey tracksuit, and tucked these under his arm. He took a deep breath and opened the door of the broom closet. The hostess in the red chi pa was chatting to a sexy girl in a very short skirt. The girl in the red chi pa looked at him with distaste, and the girl in the short skirt looked at him with amusement. The girl in the red chi pa took the track suit and shoes from him. She said "bu yao zhega" -- don't want these -- and put them on a shelf in the broom closet.

The girl in the short skirt said "halloo," with the accent of a person who had no English at all.

Peter replied "Hello Ms," and the girl in the short skirt laughed and made some comment in Chinese that he could not understand. The girl in the red chi pa looked at him with impatience and said "Please follow me." As he hurried down the corridor after her swaying hips, trying to re accustom himself to the high heels, the girl in the short skirt giggled behind him.

They turned a few corners, and then the girl in the red chi pa opened a door and said "please," gesturing for him to enter. Steve's three young friends were sitting around a u-shaped sofa, with a coffee table in the middle. There were bottles and glasses of beer, ashtrays and cigarettes, and bowls of nuts, seeds and dried fruit on the table. Beside each of the young men sat very sexy Chinese girls, two in skirts, and two in denim shorts. They wore skimpy tops that revealed their cleavage and their bellies. The young men and the girls had paired off, and the girls were sitting very close to the boys.

One girl sat alone, and Steve stood speaking to a Chinese guy in a suit. The Chinese guy in the suit looked at Peter dubiously, and Steve pressed a few pink 100 RMB notes into his hand. "Xing, Xing," – ok, ok -- the Chinese guy said, and then went to the door. He pulled a screen down over the window that was set in the door, and left the room, closing the door behind him. Steve went and sat back down beside the hostess that was with him.

Peter stood facing the eight seated people humbly. The girls giggled, and curled their noses, and moved a bit closer to the men they were with. It was though seeing him there made them appreciate the company of the normal men they were with more. They all stared at him. Steve spoke to the girls in Chinese, and they all said "Xie xie" -- thank you -- enthusiastically.

He spoke to Peter then. "Tonight, the girls here are going to get to be customers instead of hostesses. You will light cigarettes, change ashtrays, make sure beers glasses are topped up, and keep empties off the table. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Peter said.

Peter was kept very busy. When anyone reached for a cigarette, he hurried over with a lighter. When a beer glass was more empty than full, he refilled it. When a bottle was empty, he removed it from the table. When an ashtray was full of sunflower seed shells, or cigarette butts, he changed it.

Shortly after he started serving the table, the girl with Steve noticed the bruises and welts on the backs of his thighs, and asked Steve about these in Chinese. Steve had Peter turn around, bend over and lift his skirt, so that they could all see his ass, covered only by the small v of his frilly, semi transparent panties. The girls gathered around, going "waaah," in amazement. He felt their manicured nails gently tracing the ridges of the welts on his thighs, and even his ass cheeks. The girls asked Steve eager questions in Chinese, and he replied. Peter could not understand much of what was being said, but he heard one girl say "zhen hao" -- really good.

After a few minutes, Steve said to Peter, "Stand up and turn around. Lift your skirt." Peter turned to face everyone, and lifted his skirt and apron. Steve pulled his panties halfway down his thighs, so Peter stood there revealing the pink cock cage with its yellow smiley face, nestled between frilly white garter straps and frilly white stocking tops. Everyone roared with laughter, the girls falling down into the laps of the boys they were with. Even the boys forgot their cool postures for a few moments, and broke up in laughter. When the eruption of laughter subsided, the girls asked Steve eager questions in Chinese, and the boys asked questions in English. Steve patiently answered all questions, while Peter stood in front of them, skirt and apron lifted, humbly exposing his pink cock cage. One of the girls reached and took the cock cage in her hand. "ting ke ai" -- really cute -- she said, as though she was talking about a puppy dog.

When they had satisfied their curiosity, Steve told Peter to get back to work. As he lit cigarettes, poured beers and cleared ashtrays, he noticed that the sexual tension in the room had risen as a result of his presence. He was not the object of this tension, but his display had freed the sexual desire of these people to flow out toward one another. The young men were sneaking squeezes of the breasts of the young ladies over their shirts. The young ladies let their hands move over the trousers of the young men, very close to their cocks.

After about an hour, Steve stood up and clapped his hands for attention. He announced "We're going to have some entertainment now. Peter is going to dance for us." Peter, winced, and could not help letting out a groan. The young men clapped and cheered, and the young ladies looked at Steve and their dates in puzzlement. Steve then repeated himself in Chinese, and the young ladies jokingly mimicked the clapping and cheers of the young men.

Steve turned to Peter: "Take off the maid's outfit. You won't need to give lap dances. The coffee table would make that awkward. Also, sorry, I haven't got your key, so we won't do the last part where you get a chance to wank." He clapped his hands at Peter and said "Chop chop!" and then went and sat down.

Peter pulled the maids outfit over his head, and stood facing everyone in his stockings, panties and garter belt. The girls made noises of amazement and good natured outrage, and let their hands stray closer to the clothed cocks off their dates. Peter used the remote control to find a cheesy old House track, I Want to Give You Devotion, and Peter began his dance.

He bent over, ground, thrust and pumped his ass. He sucked his fingers, and winked and blew kisses. The young men and ladies seemed to have a great time, laughing and cheering, and growing closer and closer to one another.

When Peter finished his routine, he stood up, faced the audience and curtsied humbly. The young men and women cheered and whistled. When the applause died down, Steve said to Peter, "You can go now, and wait for us in the car."

Peter pulled his maid's outfit over his head, and left the room. He walked around the halls, looking for his grey track suit. Chinese guys and hostesses passing through the halls stopped, looked at him and laughed. Some called "Hallooo," in the way that Chinese often mock foreigners, and he felt compelled to reply to this "Hello sir," or "hello Ms," although he knew that they did not expect a reply. When he replied, they laughed, or mocked him to one another in Chinese. A waiter in a flouncy yellow shirt approached him menacingly, holding out a hand for him to stop. The waiter spoke into his headset, and stood beside Peter, not allowing him to pass. A few moments later, the girl in the red Chi pa arrived. Her expression made clear that she felt Peter was disgusting.

She said "Follow me," and led Peter to the broom closet. Peter pulled his grey track suit on over his maids outfit, and put on his own shoes. He put the blonde wig and the high heel sandals in a plastic bag, and then went and waited in the car.

After about half an hour, Peter heard Steve and the young men approaching his car. They stood near the car, and he could hear them agree that two of the guys would walk home, and Peter would drive Steve and another one of them home. Steve and one of the young men got into the back of his car. From overhearing their conversations, Peter knew that the young man with Steve was called Brad, and that he was from California. Brad was tall and fit. He had shoulder length hair that he swept back from his forehead, and he wore a thinly groomed beard. He was always happy and smiling, and Peter felt certain that women would consider him to be very handsome and charming.

As they drove, Brad said to Steve, "Shit dude, I'm so fucking horny. Where to now?"

"Sorry man," Steve said, "I've got a busy day tomorrow. I'm gonna have to call it a night."

"Aw, maaaan," Brad groaned. "I thought those chicks were prostitutes. I couldn't get one to come home with me."

"They're not full on whores. They won't take money from you for a fuck, but they might date you if you buy them shit. What are you gonna do though, you don't speak any Chinese?"

"Awww man, come on, let's go somewhere, I got blue balls."

"Sorry dude. But you can take the faggot home if you like."

"Aww man, that sucks."

"He'll suck you off, any way you want," Steve said, then calling up to Peter in the driver's seat, "Won't you, faggot?"

"Yes, sir," Peter replied meekly.

Brad sighed. "If he sucks me off does that mean I'm a faggot?"

"Naaah, nine out of ten people will say it just means you're horny."

"All right, I'll give it a go."

"Take this form. Fill it out and seal it in the envelope when you're done, and give it back to him to return it to his master, so that his master knows he's been a good boy."

"Man, this is some freaky shit right here."

"Be strict with him. Tell him what you want, and demand top notch service." Steve called up to Peter then: "Brad has your loan form. You do what he says, understand."

"Yes, sir."

Brian told Peter where to stop, and he got out of the car. Before closing the door, he said to Brad "Enjoy yourself. See you soon," and then closed the door.

Brad gave Peter directions, but said nothing else as they drove to Brad's apartment. They parked, and Brad said "Let's go." Peter followed him into the building, and into the elevator. As the elevator moved up to his floor, Peter glanced at Brad.

Brad said: "Man, dude, please don't look at me. Don't talk to me. Shit. I know I'm gonna regret this in the morning." Peter looked down at the floor in front of him.

They left the elevator, and went into Brad's apartment.

"Take off that fucking tracksuit, dude."

Peter took off the tracksuit, and slipped out of his shoes. He put on the blonde wig, and stepped into the sandals.

Brian went to the refrigerator, got a beer and opened it. He went to the sofa, took the remote control from the coffee table, and turned on some porn. He took of all of his clothes, pushed the coffee table out of the way, and sat down on the sofa.

"I want you to come over here and suck my balls. Don't look at me, or make any noise. I'm gonna try and imagine you're the little hottie I was sitting with tonight."

Peter got down on his knees and crawled over to between Brad's spread legs. Brad was very slowly jacking himself off, watching Asian porn, and he did not look down at Peter. Peter looked at Brad's balls. He felt such revulsion for these loose sacks. In order to give himself strength and resolve, he pictured Cindy in his mind, pictured her there watching what he was doing, and knowing that he was making this sacrifice for her. He put out a tentative tongue, and began to lick at Brad's nut sacks.

After several minutes of delicate licking, Brad said: "Take them in your mouth. Get a lot of spit in your mouth and swirl them around. Do it like a golf ball washer."

Brad kept jacking off slowly, watching porn and sipping at beer while Peter licked and sucked at his balls obediently. After about an hour, Brad lifted one heel up to the edge of the sofa, and began to jack off more emphatically. He said, breathlessly, "Lick me under my balls, lick my crack." Peter gagged as he licked at Brad's prostate, with Brad's ball sacks straddling the ridge of his nose, and resting on his eyes. Brad began to shoot, pumping cum down over his shaft and balls. Peter kept licking his balls, more tenderly now. Brad wiped his right hand on the shoulder of Peter's maid outfit, and said, "Clean me up now."

Peter sucked and licked the cum off Brad's shaft and balls, and swallowed it down, gagging occasionally at the taste.

After several minutes, when his cock and balls were clean, Brad said, "You can get out of here now."

"Please sir, can you fill out the loan form for me."

"Sure thing."

As Peter dressed in the grey sweat suit, Brad took the form from the pocket of his discarded trousers, and completed it. While Peter waited by the door, he put it in the envelope and sealed it.

"Please sign along the seal of the envelope, sir."

Brad looked up at Peter impatiently, and then signed the seam, and held the envelope out to Peter. Peter took the envelope, and said, "Please sir, may I have a drink of water."

"Nah dude, just get out of here."

Peter went back to his car with the overpowering taste of Brad's cum in his mouth. When he got in the car, he took a bottle of coke from the glove compartment, and rinsed his mouth with this and spit many times. He rinsed and spit with Cola until there was no more white slime in what he spat out. He pulled in his legs, closed the door of the car and drove home.

The next day, Peter sat in his office exhausted. He had arrived home very late from Brad's place. Cindy had sent him some work through the internal message service when she first arrived, and he was working on this, but it was slow going.

The door opened to his office, and Cindy entered. He stood up and said "Good morning, Cindy." She was wearing an orange sweater, and tight, faded jeans that showed off her hips and ass. She was wearing sports shoes.

"Good morning, Peter. How are you?" she asked in a friendly tone, sitting down on the sofa beside his desk.

"I'm fine Cindy, how are you?"

"I'm good. Did you have a nice time last night?" she asked brightly.

Peter looked down from her bright eyes, and then back up into them. "No, Cindy, not really."

"Oh, that's too bad," she said with false commiseration. She pursed her lips in a smile that made dimples appear beside her lips. Her eyes twinkled. "You can sit down. Do you have the form?"

He sat, and said "Yes Cindy, here it is," handing her the form.

She sat back in the sofa, and crossed one leg over the other. She opened the envelope, pushed her glasses up with one finger, and began reading. While she read, her lips smirked, and she let a huff out through her nostrils. Her lips curled in distaste once, though the twinkling grin remained in her eyes.

She put the form down, and looked at Peter with one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Who is Brad."

"He is one of Steve's friends. He's from California."

"What he looks like."

"He's tall. He has shoulder length hair, pushed back, and a thin beard."