Proving My Loyalty Ch. 01

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Sex slave is marked by her master.
1.2k words
4.1
37.8k
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 11/15/2006
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God, I hate Monday mornings...kids don't want to be at school and teachers REALLY don't want to be at school. I'm not even sure how I made it through this particular Monday morning. I am a high school science teacher and my weekend went beyond anything I have ever experienced or could have imagined. I have been a teacher for 10 years now, but my job does not define me. It's the "extra-curricular" activities that consume me, that give me my worth, my value.

When you hear my story, you may think I'm crazy, you may wonder to yourself how I find value and worth in my choice of lifestyle. Truth be told, I find empowerment and amazingly, great worth in what I do after hours. I am owned. I am a sex slave. My owner is very rich, very powerful and sometimes very mean. I have just recently come to this lifestyle and my owner doubts my loyalty. He says I've not done enough to please him, to prove to him that I serve him and him alone.

After this weekend, there should no longer be any doubt. I am still feeling the after-effects of our weekend activities this morning as I think back over all that happened. I had to prove to Him just how far I was willing to go to be allowed to be His slave, His whore, His slut.

It was Friday night; He picked me up from school and drove me to His house. My attire for the evening was laid out on His bed; a bath was drawn. I was ordered to bath and dress. I never question Sir's instructions; I simply do as I am told or pay the consequences. When an evening begins in such a sweet manner, I know not to take too much for granted. The night was young and Sirs demands could still swing either way, sweet or sinister.

As we drove to our destination, Sir ordered me to take his cock in my mouth. These are the kind of instructions I gladly follow. I love his cock, all 8 inches of it. I hungrily licked at his pre-cum, running my tongue up and down his shaft. After several minutes of devouring his cock, Sir grabbed me by the hair on the back of my neck and pulled me off his cock. "No sense in rushing things," He said. "We've got all night, baby!"

Hearing the name baby always put me on alert and sent chills down my spine. He uses it to convey two emotions, tenderness and warning. I had a feeling, he wasn't intending to be tender this evening. As His cock softened enough to return to His pants, Sir ordered me zip up his fly, reminding me that if I caused Him pain, I'd be the one that was sorry.

As He parked the car, I looked out the window at the darkening night, trying to get an idea of where we were. Then I saw it, a neon sign that read Purple Lotus Tattoos. I looked at him with questioning eyes, big mistake. He took my hand, kissed the palm and then bit my finger hard enough to draw blood. "Never look at me with eyes that question!" He said. "IN!" he ordered.

As we entered the tattoo parlor, Sir didn't stop at the counter. He went straight toward the back, through a curtain to the last room on the right. Inside he nodded to the man seated there and the man grunted his greeting. No words were exchanged between the two men. I on the other hand, was ordered by Sir to strip. Without question, I began to remove the articles I had been ordered to wear just an hour before, heels first, followed by hose, skirt, shirt, bra and lastly thong. Sir pushed me into the waiting chair and spread my legs apart. Already I was wet, just being with Sir got my juices flowing, not to mention sucking his magnificent cock or following his orders.

As I sat in the chair, the tattoo artist looked to Sir and Sir nodded his consent. The artist leaned in, stuck out his tongue and took one long, slow lick from my ass to my clit. My body shuddered in response, my head fell back. I couldn't help my body's response; I was so horny from having just sucked Sir's cock. The artist pulled back, removed his cock from his pants and scooted his chair close enough for me to take his dick in my hands. The artist took my clit between his teeth, teased it out from its hub, while I stroked his twittering cock. He sucked my clit between his teeth, and flicked it relentlessly with his tongue. My juices were flowing so hot and fast.

Matching the artist's advances step for step, I rubbed the pre cum from his dick around the head of his cock. Sir took his hand and shoved two of his fingers into my flowing pussy, removed them, circled them around my lips and placed them in my mouth. I sucked my own cum off of his beautiful hands.

I looked to Sir with pleading eyes; he shook his head no. No, I was not to cum or I would be punished were his unspoken instructions. I fought with every ounce of my being to not cum as I felt the tattoo artist spew forth, splattering my stomach and my pussy with cum. Feeling it run down around my hand as I continued to pump every last bit of juice from this big, burly, dark haired man.

Excited as I was my desires were irrelevant. Pleasing Sir is my purpose, my priority, my greatest desire and if he said not to cum, I would do all I could to appease. As my legs began to shake with much needed release, Sir cried out, "Enough!"

Immediately the artist removed his mouth from my hot, wet pussy, placed his own cock back in his pants, washed his hands and pulled out his equipment. Even though I was able to resist cumming, I was now throbbing and aching with desire. Not to mention the fact that my juices were really flowing; flowing so heavily they were running down my ass crack and pooling in the chair.

Physically my body was vibrating with need and desire. However, I was really getting excited wondering what he had in store for me. Sir and I had been together for nearly a month now, I had pledged my faithfulness to him verbally, yet this was not enough for Sir. Sir wanted me tattooed; wanted me branded. The design for my brand was laid out on the table: TB

Sir's initials! I sat stone still while the gravity of what was about to happen, settled around me. This was it. Sir was claiming me as His.

The artist spread my legs wide, leaned forward and went to work on my beautifully shaved pussy. Sir's initials were being permanently etched directly above my fuck hole. The pain caused by the relentless needle was secondary to the excitement I felt from knowing I was His. I didn't think it possible for the juices pouring out of my cunt to increase, but increase they did. Fluid gushed from me as the artist finished.

Sir admired the artist's handy work, pulled out a wad of bills, paid the man and ordered me to dress. We walked into the night and as we did Sir pulled me to him, kissed me deeply and said..."this isn't all there is. Before the night is through you will prove to Me how far you are willing to go, baby!"

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