Leaning in close to the mirror, hesaw a difference in his eyes, too, which were rounding out, growing wide.The lashes were longer, paler. Even his brown irises now had specks ofgreen. He hated what he saw, and before he could look any more, the doorburst open and some douche football player walked in. With a frustratedgrowl, Greg turned around and stormed out of the bathroom. The footballplayer hadn't paid him any special attention, but they weren't friends,either. The idiot wouldn't have noticed. But Greg didn't want anybodyhe knew to see him, and slinking from hall to hall, he made his way tothe exit.Brigand didn't live far from here, and she would most likely still be athome. Although she was only sixteen, she'd dropped out of school and nowsupported herself by working in a strip club. Greg thought it was kindof sleazy of her, but she'd already saved over ten thousand dollars,which she planned to use for an English degree. There was no denyingthat she had a plan, and a. I hurt. And I was genuinely confused. Or at least, I told myself I was confused."Master. You will always address me as such. Just as I will always address you as slut. Unless you are deserving of worse names?" The questioning manner of that last kept me from speaking out again. I finished buckling the collar in place.I stood, quietly and waited. I didn't have long to wait before you gave me my first order of the day. "Kneel, slut. This man wants a blow job." I looked up at you, shocked.The man stood there, listening and watching intently. "She doesn't seem very well trained to me." That statement angered you. I could tell from the telltale vein on your neck bulging."Why you ungrateful little bi--." Dropping to my knees before another slap met my cheek, I worked fast and furiously to free the cock from the stranger's pants. I have as yet to see your cock, yet here I was, preparing to suck that of a stranger. I had to hope and pray that the man was disease-free and that you, my Master,.
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