Date: Sun, 21 Nov 2021 22:55:34 +0000 (UTC) From: Paul Vanden boogard Subject: Becoming Daddy's Bitch - Chapter 8 Thank you everyone for your feedback on this story. Keep in mind that this is all fantasy, and not based on real life. I have read a lot of amazing stories on Nifty. Please consider making a contribution to: https://donate.nifty.org/ Becoming Daddy's Bitch -- Chapter 8 I heard Master kick off his boots and shrug off his jacket when he came in, and quickly spread my legs and put my hands behind me. Whistling a random song, he strolled from room to room before finally settling into his chair, setting a package he had been carrying in his lap to be opened. I didn't dare look up at him, or even glance in his direction, but kept my eyes on the floor and on his stockinged feet. He had sexy feet, even in stockings. "Bring me a soda," he said as he unwrapped the package. He only drank one kind of soda. He was digging through the box when I set it next to him and returned to my knees. "What did you do in your room last night?" I cringed a little, my head sinking between my shoulders. "I...I...came...Master." I heard things being set aside, then he was up on his feet, his pants and underwear dropping around his ankles. "Piss hole." Back in his chair with his legs spread, I crawled obediently onto his cock. It didn't taste anywhere near as strong as it had that morning. Still hot, it had a sweet/sour, almost metallic taste instead. "Now up on your feet, bitch." He grabbed my cock and pulled me toward him as I stood. "Did you wank this pathetic little thing last night?" he asked as he gave it a hard squeeze. "Yes, Master," I winced painfully. "What do you think this is? A cock? Huh?" he tugged on it as he spoke. "You think this tiny little fucking nib is a cock? That's a cock," he pointed at the long, thick piece of meat hanging between his legs. "This is nothing but some pussy's little clit. And I own that clit, bitch." I was trembling so bad that I was nearly crying, afraid of what he was going to do to me. Reaching to his side, he picked up a piece of one of the items he had taken from the box, an oblong piece of pink plastic. Wrapping his hand around my crotch, he worked it over my balls, then tucked my tiny dick through it, pulling on them until it was tight up into my crotch. Spitting on my stomach, he wiped it off with his fingertips, then used it to moisten my cock before slipping a piece of hard, pink plastic over that, too. Lining up the two pieces, he slipped a lock in place and snapped it shut. "Down!" he pointed at the floor. I dropped to my knees before I could even consider what had just happened. He unwrapped another package, and then a bright, cold ring of metal was snapped around my neck, followed by another lock. "Now turn around. Face on the floor." He grabbed my locked up cock and pulled me toward him, and I could hear the clink of metal and chain as he snapped something around my ankles. Rising to his feet, he adjusted he pulled his pants back into place, then grabbed me by the hair. Dragging me to the couch, he lay me sprawling across his lap, and I yelped out loud as the paddle came across my ass cheeks. I was screaming and squirming and bawling by the time he was finished. I could barely gasp a breath, my ass so sore that I could barely moved as he dumped me onto the floor. "Thank me, bitch!" he growled above me. I was crying so hard I could barley lick with my tongue as I took his toes into my mouth. "Thank you, Master," I managed to whine. "You're not a man, cunt. I wouldn't even insult the female species by calling you a woman. You're a whore, you're a cunt, you're a slave, you're a bitch. Nothing about you matters. The only reason you live is to serve me and your mistress. Do you understand?" I licked and I cried and I licked and I sobbed. "Yes, Master." "Now go fold up the blanket that's on your mattress. If I every see it the way it is now, again, it will be taken away permanently. Then I want the laundry room and the other bathroom scrubbed clean. Once you're done with those, you can come and beg my forgiveness for being such a dumb, worthless whore." I didn't dare to reply, but quickly crawled away, snorting back the snot that was dripping from my nose and wiping from my face along with all the tears. It was only when I finally stood that I could see the chain between my legs and the shackles around my ankles, and the tiny, pink cage hat he had locked my cock in. I reached down and I felt it, and I knew that I was never going to be able to touch my cock again. I might never even be allowed to cum again! I went to the bathroom, then washed and scrubbed and cleaned until I was at his feet again. My sobs had long since passed, but my ass was still so tender that I couldn't even sit back on my feet, waving it high into the air as I planted my cheek against the carpet and started licking at my Master's toes. I was supposed to apologize, for being a dumb whore, but I didn't know what to say. "What are you?" "A dumb whore, Master." He fell silent while he read his paper, and ten minutes later, he asked again. "What are you?" "A...a dumb whore, Master." He set his paper aside for a moment, picking it up again only after he had his dumb whore between his legs licking his balls. "What are you, bitch?" I hesitated, unsure whether or not he was looking for a different answer. "A dumb whore, Master." He turned a page and I continued to lick, realizing that that was the point he was getting across. I was just a dumb whore. I sucked a nut into my mouth, my cock pushing hard against the inside of its cage and causing it to pull painfully on my balls. It was perhaps half an hour before I was sent to make him his lunch, eating the leftovers before washing the dishes and returning to his feet. Told to follow him, he led me to my room and instructed me to kneel facing the corner. Shuffling from the room, he came back a moment later, the clunk of a heavy chain hitting the floor behind me as he locked one end onto the collar around my neck. Pulling me onto my mattress, he attached the other end to a large eye hook that he had affixed into the wall, then locked my hands behind my back. Grabbing my hair again, he pushed something into my mouth, a firm, rubber ball, and strapped it behind my head. Burying my face onto the mattress, he slid two fingers roughly up my asshole. "You're my property, bitch. And that's all you're going to be for the rest of your life." Whining, I pushed myself back against them, wanting them deeper inside of me. Then his fingers were gone, and so was he, the lock on the back door clicking after he shut it. It was a long time before I moved from that position, my brain repeating his last phrase over and over in my head, my ass squirming in the air and my tiny, pathetic cock pushing against the inside of its cage. Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I'm just a dumb whore, Master. I eventually slept, waking up on my side with an aching bladder. It was only two thirty, and I had no idea how long my Master was going to be gone. Rolling onto my back, the chain between my collar and the wall snapped tight. Less than four feet long, it wasn't going to allow me to go anywhere, and probably wouldn't even allow me to stand. Squirming uncomfortably, I tried to hold it back, but after half an hour I couldn't even feel my dick anymore, just the incredible pain in my crotch, and at last I lost control, a warm splash of wetness coating my crotch and running down the crack of my ass. I sobbed a little, having pissed myself, but moaned with relief as the pain and the pressure eased. Turning on my side, I lay there, considering the rest of my life. Slave. Whore. Cunt. Property. My whole world became narrowed to the inside of my Masters house. I thought about my Master. Six foot two, dark, short cut hair, high cheek bones and a chiseled jaw, dark, piercing blue eyes, his face etched with two days growth of dark stubble. Ungodly handsome. Broad chest, thick arms, thick thighs, all of them coated with dark, curly hairs, including the light paunch above his thick mass of pubic hair and his incredibly gorgeous cock. And his feet. His beautiful, sculpted, manly feet. I wanted to kiss his feet. I wanted to kiss his feet for the rest of my life. I wanted to be spanked and be fucked and be degraded and humiliated. I wanted to drink his piss and worship his cock and worship his balls. I wanted to worship him! Three hours later, he still hadn't returned, and I needed to piss again, this time pulling up my knees until I was just on my shoulders, my piss splattering out to splash on my chest and my stomach and run down my sides, my own warmth covering my body. If I was going to be punished for it, then so be it, but I had had little choice. It was starting to get dark when at last I heard the back door open, and I managed to get myself up onto my knees, my legs spread with the still wet puddle of piss between them. I waited and waited, feeling the heavy chain swinging back and forth between my collar and the wall, eager to present myself to my Master. He pulled a deep breath through is nostrils when he entered, smelling my piss, and chuckled, reaching into his pocket for the keys to undo the locks that restrained his bitch. Forced to crawl after him, I planted my face between his feet as he sat in his chair, the television blaring to life. I could hear him crunching on potato chips above me, but thought only to wait for his next command, for my next opportunity to please him. At length he reached down to undo the ball gag still strapped around my head. I went immediately to his feet, coating them with my tongue and slurping on his toes and wriggling my tongue between them. I was sent to put the chips away, then sent to fetch him a beer, then sent again for his robe and his slippers, returning each time bury my face in his feet. Stripping off his clothes, I was sent to the laundry room with them, then knelt to slide his slippers onto his feet before kneeling in my spot beside his chair, my face pressed to the floor and my back arched, my ass pushed high into the air. I wanted his attention. I craved his attention, my asshole yearning to feel him push his fingers deep inside. "Don't think for a moment that you'll be cleaning your mattress. You can sleep in your piss until I make other arrangements." I didn't know what he meant by `other arrangements', but I didn't care. I was just a dumb whore. I would accept anything from my Master. My stomach churned, and I realized that I hadn't eaten since noon. "I...I'm hungry, Master." "Mmm," he grunted, stuffing another potato chip into his mouth and chewing it noisily. "And you're going to stay that way, too. Consider it the rest of your punishment. I told you, bitch, I own you. What made you think you had the right to play with my property without my permission?" I cringed, trying to push my face further into the floor. "I..." I wanted to apologize, to explain myself, but realized that I'd probably only get myself into more trouble. He ate another mouthful, then another, the television blathering on in the background. "You don't deserve it, bitch, but I want my cock sucked." As quick as I could, I crawled between his legs and wrapped my lips around it, pushing down on it as far as I could go and holding it there, my tongue fervently licking his thickening shaft util I started to choke on it. Then I was sucking it greedily, but gently, up and down, up and down, licking and teasing its head, licking down its shaft to his balls to lick his balls and licking back up again to engulf his beautiful cock once more, my balls aching as my worthless little clit filled its cage. Slave, cunt, bitch, whore, I was the luckiest little bitch alive. He grabbed my head and started fucking my face, driving his cock in deeper than it had ever been before. I gagged and I choked, but I didn't fight it, and at last he threw me down in front of him and rammed his cock into his pussy, fucking it with hard, fast strokes, using a fist full of my hair to pull me back against him as he slammed himself forward. I could have sworn that his cock had grown another two inches, moaning one long moan as it slid in and out of me, splitting me wide and probing deeper and deeper with every vigorous thrust. I didn't want him to stop. I didn't want him to cum. I wanted his cock to stay inside of me, to fuck me until I passed out with ecstasy. I could feel him explode inside of me, feel his cock swell and pulse as he filled his pussy with is man seed. Groaning and gasping, he continued to fuck me, rocking slowly back and forth until at last he pulled out. I didn't need to be told, but crawled between his legs to lick his cock clean as he sat back into his chair. "Bed, bitch." Regretfully, I let is cock slip from my mouth, crawling beyond his sight before gathering my feet beneath me. I nearly tripped as the chain snapped taught between my ankles. I had to take small, mincing steps as I went to turn down his bed. Reaching up, I felt the collar, a smooth piece of metal with four rings welded onto it, to the front and the back and one to either side. It wasn't until I was setting out his toothbrush and toothpaste that I was able to see it in his bathroom mirror, half an inch in diameter and a bright, shiny silver. It was then that I examined the cage on my cock, my "clit!" Barely an inch long, it was pink and solid, with just a tiny slit at the tip through which to pee, locked in place to a thick, pink, plastic ring squeezed tight around my cock and balls. And the shackles. The same bright silver as the collar, like metal anklets, smooth and round, with little more than eight inches of silver chain dangling between them. I raised my eyes to look at myself and blushed. I heard him cough, and I hurried out of the room to prepare his coffee for the morning, watching my feet as I made my way into the kitchen, and keeping my eyes lowered as I got myself ready for bed, my mattress still damp with my piss as I unfolded the blanket and pulled it up over me, its acrid smell assaulting my nostrils. At least my Master had let me keep the mattress. He could have hauled it out to the dumpster and had me sleep on just the floor. I poured his coffee and knelt beside his chair, crawling beneath the table to kiss his feet as he sat with his laptop in front of him. His breakfast was eggs benedict and hashbrowns, teaching me patiently how to prepare them while he worked on his computer. My breakfast, again, was just plain cereal, and would be from that point on, though I was allowed to eat any scraps that might be left over. I was, after all, just a slave, and it was as much as I deserved. Finishing the dishes, I set about the chores I had been given, repeating them in my head so that I wouldn't forget one, my Master pulling on his clothes and jumping in his truck and speeding off to do a job. Picking Master's robe and slippers off his bedroom floor, I caught my image in the full-length mirror behind the door. Dropping them back to the floor, I posed in front of it and studied myself, my head still bowed as I looked up under my eyelashes. I looked like a slave. Naked and skinny, with the silver collar and the little pick cage and the shackles on my ankles. My skin was pale and my hair was ruffled and unkempt, and there even a smudge of dirt on my cheek. I looked weak and helpless, and I knew that I was. The collar and shackles belonged on that slave in the mirror, as did the little pink cage that locked away his cock. I suddenly found myself happy for them. I wanted them to be there. I wanted them to be there because my Master had put them there. Master was claiming me. Master was saying "look how proud I am to own this pathetic little bitch!" My tiny clit was hardening in its cage. I picked up Masters robe and slippers again, pressing the inside of one of his slippers to my nose and breathing in deeply. The smell was sour and soapy and sweaty and musky and manly. It was my Masters smell. I tucked his slippers in his closest and hung his robe, then turned to strip and remake his bed, the rest of my chores running through my mind again. Returning to the closet, I stuffed my nose deep into his slipper again, embarrassed and ashamed to be degrading myself, yet gasping with euphoric pleasure as I drew several deep breaths. I loved my Masters smells. It was a little after ten thirty when I heard the voices outside. I was just finishing up my chores, which took a lot longer with the chain between my legs, because it made me move around a lot slower. Glancing out the kitchen window, I could see Masters truck parked out by the shed. There were two of his crew with him, and I recognized them both. Gary was an older man, older than my Master. I was fifteen, so that meant my dad...Master...was thirty three, maybe thirty four. Gary had to be closer to fifty. He was short and stocky, with a wide back and big arms. His hair was grey, and cut short, like a soldier in the army. I didn't like him. He always made demeaning jokes about me, about how weak and stupid I was, and when he looked at me his glare was intimidating. Anthony was the other guy, but he went by the name of Tony. He was black, but his skin was more of a golden bronze. I think he was about the same age as my Master. He wasn't as tall, and nowhere near as muscular, but he was still strong, with short, tightly curled dark black hair and a somewhat rounded face, and a narrow, well-trimmed beard that wrapped around his chin from his sideburns. I didn't like him much, either, but I really didn't dislike him either. I'd only seen him a few times, and he never talked to me, or even indicated that he knew I was there. They were unloading a bunch of stuff from the truck into the shed, and then I saw the three of them walking toward the house. I panicked, not sure what I should do. Master never brought people into the house! In fact, I couldn't even recall the last time we had had a visitor in the house! Pushing the mop and the pail into the closet, I hurried into my room to hide. I heard the three of them clomp in, my Masters voice carrying on some conversation. Gary grunted a response, and I could hear the scrape of chairs as they gathered around the table. They talked among themselves for a little bit, then I heard Gary say, "So where is that little pussy boy of yours?" "Bitch!" Master called out. I was petrified, standing on the other side of my bedroom door, shaking. But Master had called for me, and I knew I couldn't disobey or I'd get the strap. My hands crossed in front of my crotch, I shuffled down the hall, stopping just at the entrance to the kitchen, afraid to look up, my face blushing deep red with fear and humiliation. I expected Gary to cackle with laughter, but all I heard was my Masters command. "Three beers, three grilled ham and cheese, pickles and chips." I stood at the corner, shaking, unable to believe what was happening. "Bitch?!" my Master said calmly, "now." I hurried past them to the refrigerator and removed three beers, nearly spilling them as I opened them and set them in front of the men. Gary cast me a brief sideways glance, but Tony ignored me completely. Retrieving the griddle, I started prepping the sandwiches, then set out plates and forks and knives and spoons, and put the jar of pickles and bag of chips on the table. "We have guests, bitch. Put the chips in a bowl and the pickles on a dish." I complied immediately, my face still beet red with embarrassment and trepidation. "Are you finished with your chores?" Master asked as I served them all their sandwiches. "Yes, M..." I had to answer him correctly. "Yes, M...Master." "Then go wait in your spot." I hurried to the living room, relieved to be away from them, though I was still within their line of sight as I knelt by my Masters chair. They didn't speak one word about me the whole time that they ate, but discussed the projects they were working on, and things they needed to do. Then suddenly they were up and heading out through the back door. I knelt there for a few minutes, just staring at the floor. Dishes! I had the sink filling and was wiping off the griddle when Master stomped back into the house. "You can make yourself a sandwich and eat what's left of the pickles and chips. You had milk with your cereal, so...water. You have twenty minutes, then I'll be back to put you on your leash." With that, he turned and walked back out. I ate quickly and went to the bathroom, then knelt on my mattress to wait for my Master, and when he left I curled up to take a nap. It was hard to fall asleep, though. I kept thinking about Gary and Tony, how they had seen me naked and knew that I was a slave, and hadn't said anything, as though it was just what they had expected. I hadn't for a moment thought that other people would see me, that Master had simply planned to keep me hidden from the world, and I started to wonder what it meant that he hadn't, and why Gary and Tony hadn't been surprised by it. I woke up a couple hours later and had to pee, but it wasn't so bad that I couldn't hold it for a while, and I was glad when I heard Master come in through the back door. He didn't come to take me off the leash right away, and I could hear him roaming around the house. When at last he did appear, he was freshly showered and in just his robe and slippers, his robe open and his big, soft cock swinging back and forth in front of me as he reached down to open the lock. "Stay on all fours. Come." I crawled after him as he led me to his chair and stretched out his legs. "What are you going to do now?" he asked as I knelt in front of his chair to wait for what was to come next. My answer was immediate. "Kiss your feet, Master." "And why are you kissing my feet?" "I...I want to be a good slave, Master." "And what are you doing to show me you're a good slave?" "I..." I didn't know what he wanted. "Kiss...kissing your feet, Master?" He sighed heavily. "You're missing the point, though as dumb as you are, it doesn't surprise me. Why do you want to show me you're a good slave by kissing my feet?" The answer hit me like a ton of bricks. "To...to thank you, Master!" I blurted out excitedly. My eyes were fixed on the floor, so I couldn't see his expression, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "Then while you are kissing my feet, I want you to tell me about all of the things you are thanking me for." "Yes, Master!" I crawled to his foot and started licking the top of it, my tiny cock...my clit!... hardening in its cage as I thanked him for my collar, and thanked him for the cage, and thanked him for the shackles, and for putting me on a leash. "Thank you for making me your...your naked slave, Master." It was humiliating to say it out loud, but as I said it, my clit swelled harder. It was demeaning, but it emphasized my place beneath his feet as his slave. I needed so bad that my bladder ached, but in that moment it was the least important thing in the world. I was kissing my Masters feet. I was sucking his toes and licking his heels and eager to be allowed between his legs. "Go wipe down the shower, and clean up the both the bathroom and my bedroom. After that, your training starts for when your Mistress comes home on Friday."