Master and His Pack Mule

by slave 7

26 Feb 2024 1166 readers Score 8.9 (11 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


Stories of The Slave Center

The Nation’s Leading Faggot Retailer

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Master and His Pack Mule

Part Three

Disclaimer: This is a story of erotic fiction containing fantasy descriptions of Male-male slavery, which may include sexual acts, BDSM and nudity. It is a intended for adults only. You must be of legal adult age to read this work. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


Master walked for a couple blocks, along the sidewalk paralleling the busy boulevard. Then he turned down a smaller street, a street unfamiliar to his mule, and he soon came to a small cafe with some outdoor dining tables. He found a table right at the sidewalk, in the sun and open to all of life as it went by. He pulled out a slave mat that the restaurant provides for all slave owners. He ordered his slave to kneel on it and relax. Of course, with the mule pack on its back, it could only relax so much before it spilled the contents of the pack.

A young waiter soon appeared, and since menus were placed at every table, my Master was already ready to order. He ordered a burger for himself and then said, “And a regular slave dish.” But before the waiter left, Master asked the waiter what exactly was in the slave dish. The waiter answered, “We buy Slave Feed from the Slave Center and put it on a slave dish.”

“Okay, perfect. That sounds good. That’s what my slave always eats. Thank you,” my master answered.

Then Master stood up and said, “Okay, slave. Let’s get this mule pack off during lunch.” He quickly unsnapped the mule pack and placed it on the ground.

“Now, sit my property down and relax.” This slave could not sit directly on its tail, so it sort of sat on the side of one butt cheek. It wanted to say, “Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master,” but it was still in pack mule mode, and, anyway, it had a tight bit in its mouth, complete with tongue plate to keep this mule speechless.

Once feeling as comfortable as it was going to get on one butt cheek, this slave leaned toward its master as he sat at the dining table. With its slave arms now free of being bound to the pack, the arms had real freedom of movement. This slave reached its arms out, caressed its master’s jeans-covered thigh, and looked up at his face, showing him his slave’s affection for him. He looked down and smiled, patting its bald head briefly, and said, “I know, faggot.” He then grabbed the leash attached to his mule nose and brought his hand right to his mule face. He gave a couple playful shakes of the leash and then unclipped it from the mule septum. “Good boy,” he stated.

“I love having the bit in my slave mouth, but I am going to have to remove it for my slave to eat.” With that, he removed the bit, and this slave exercised its jaw muscles to loosen them up. It stuck out its tongue and moved it around, too, feeling freedom of movement again.

“How’s my slave doing?” he then asked. He hadn’t ordered this slave to begin using human speech again, so this slave simply grunted an affirmative. Master understood. “Good,” was his return.

Master’s hand seemed to look for a place to be, and it landed on handle of the cane hanging at his waist. After a few moments, he detached his cane from its holder and let his slave look at it. “Yeah, this is good for my slave, isn’t it?” He didn’t expect an answer. He guided the cane softly against his slave back, a loving caress that his slave appreciated. “Such a good faggot.” Then, suddenly, he said “Get on all fours,” and this slave, without hesitation, as it had been trained, took the position ordered yet still looked at him with all the love and respect it had to give. He released the cane from his hand and let it rest on his slave back.

It was a delicious moment, and this slave’s cock got hard. Master gave no sign of noticing, but this slave is sure he did.

Master was in a good mood, as was his property. We usually enjoyed running Saturday errands.

Master lifted his right arm to pull his hand through his hair. He noticed his slave eyes look at his now exposed armpit, which was sweaty from all the walking. Master never used any underarm products.

This slave knew from experience that it could express its adoration of its Master, within reason, without any expressed permission. So, this slave placed its hand back on its Master’s thigh and pulled its face up toward his pit, slowly, as Master expects no sudden free movements out of a slave.

He knew what his slave was about to do, so he kept his armpit completely accessible. “Come on. I know what it wants.”

With that, this slave moved its face toward his hairy wet pit. As it did, he used his other arm to quickly take his cane back in hand so it wouldn’t fall off his slave back. He then held the cane on his left thigh while the slave moved its slave face into his open and inviting armpit. Upon nearing his pit, this slave had inhaled deeply, glorying in the odor of the man who owns it. Such a delicious place for a slave to be. This slave began to lick, to slurp, to sniff and lick and slurp again. Master moved his left arm and let the business end of the cane tickle his slave back. This slave was in slave heaven until Master said, “Okay, faggot, that’s enough.”

This slave immediately pulled back from his pit, but before it returned to its previous position on the mat, brought its lips to Master’s nipple where it protruded gently through his tank top. This slave kissed the nipple softly and returned to sitting on the mat. Master returned his cane to its holder at his waist. It was a beautiful sight. This slave was grunting slightly, as was natural.

“Did my slave like its appetizer?”

Again, this slave answered with a grunt in the affirmative.

“I know it did,” he returned.

The waiter came and delivered Master his lunch, a large juicy burger. The waiter placed the slave dish at the edge of the table and left. “Thank you,” Master said to the waiter. Then, to his slave, he said, “Position!” and this slave immediately got on its knees with its slave hands behind its back. Thus, it was facing its master in a full kneeling position. Master took clamps from his pocket and placed them on his slave pain nubs. They were powerful clamps, and this slave sure felt them. “Stay,” he said began eating his lunch. This slave was to remain in its kneeling position for the duration of his meal, with the clamps hanging from the slave chest and doing their thing. While he ate, why shouldn’t he put his slave in its proper place? This slave knew from experience that it was to show no sign of being in discomfort or even in pleasure while he ate. It was simply to remain there kneeling, silent, still and neutral, for the duration of his meal. When he found himself glancing at his slave, perhaps he the saw devotion in his slave eyes.

This slave loves the clamps, intense as they are, loves kneeling before him, loves being his.

Master sat quietly eating for perhaps 10 minutes. Then, a young woman came walking along the sidewalk and noticed my master sitting there eating lunch. “Matt!” she said with some joy. “Jenn! What are you doing here?” my master returned.

“Can I sit down?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Master stood up somewhat, bent across the table, and gave the woman a soft kiss. This must be the woman he had recently begun dating.

After a bit of small talk, Jenn said, “I’m headed to have lunch with my mother, so I don’t have much time.” She looked down at the slave animal and exclaimed, “So, this is the slave you’ve been telling me about! It’s kind of cute!”

“Yeah, I like it. Well, I love it actually. I love being its master. It feels good to be responsible for a slave, and to have my slave serve me, always. And this slave loves it. It’s a good set up.”

“What are those clamps for? Don’t hey hurt it?’

“Sure, but my slave likes it. Watch. I’ll make them hurt more, and my slave will be happy about it.”

Master brought a hand to each faggot pain nub and released the clamps simultaneously. This slave almost gasped with the sensation it caused, but it only breathed deeply and relaxed into the feelings it was having. Master then switched the orientation of the clamps, of how they would squeeze each nub, and placed each back on. What an intense feeling for this slave! What a rush! Hard to take, but glorious. After a few moments, it smiled back at its master.

“See, it only makes the slave want to serve me more. It is just so naturally a slave it couldn’t be anything else.”

I barked a positive response. The woman was smiling.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Master asked her.

“No, I don’t have that much time, but I can sit here till you’re done with your lunch.”

“Okay. Well, I’m just about done, but my slave still needs to eat.”

“Oh, is this its food here?” She picked up the slave dish and handed it to my master. “What exactly is it?”

“It’s the Slave Center’s basic slave feed. It has all the nutrients a slave body needs. Very healthy stuff, a kind of a mush, and I’m sure it doesn’t taste like much.”

“And you haven’t tasted it?”

“Me? Uh, no way!”

“But your slave doesn’t mind the taste?”

“No, not at all. A slave’s job is to focus on its master, not on what it eats. Anything to serve its master. That’s all a slave cares about. It’ll eat whatever I give it.”

Master set the slave dish on his end of the table. He then turned to his slave, still kneeling by the table. He reached out a hand and grabbed the chain that connected each pain nub. He pulled it taut, just enough to have his slave’s full attention. “Isn’t that right, slave? A faggot lives to serve its Master and doesn’t care what it eats.”

The slave gave two grunts in the affirmative, and master released the chain from his hand. Then he removed the clamps entirely and put them back in his pocket. The slave pain nubs were alive with sensations, and Jenn could tell.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Jenn exclaimed.

Master turned in his seat, and it seems that was enough to reveal to Jenn that Master had a cane hanging at his waist. “Do you really need that?” she pointed.

“No, not really, but it is good for me, and for my slave. Watch.”

Master stood up and ordered this slave on all fours. “Stay on all fours and put my tail end up proudly.” This slave did so, jutting its new tail up as high as it could while still remaining on all fours. Master brought the cane down on the back of his slave thighs, one, two, three times, harder with each successive strike. He paused for some seconds, and then fired one more. This slave released itself, as always, into its master’s power, authority, ownership.

“Now, turn toward Jenn and kneel.”

It did so, and in moments it was kneeling toward Jenn, revealing a full erection.

“Oh, that’s amusing!” she said.

“That’s what a faggot is. My slave usually loves when I cane it. It helps it feel its slavery, and that’s what it craves: slavery,” my master explained. “After all, it surrendered itself voluntarily to the Slave Center.

“Oh, is that where you got it?”

“Yeah, my father bought it about a year before he died, and he left it to me.”

“I see,” Jenn stated. “Well, it sure seems like a happy faggot, and it looks like you take really good care of it. But, hey, Matt, I’ve got to get going. So, bye for now,” she said as she began to stand up. “I’ll see you tonight.”

They said their goodbyes, kissed lightly and then off she went.

Master looked down at his slave and seemed to notice the welts on his slave thighs. He said, “My slave always looks better with a caning. Maybe I should do it more often.”

Master took the last drink of his soda and then gave his slave a large drink from the water bottle he carried on these journeys just for that purpose. “Drink up,” he said, “My pack mule needs plenty of water. It’s got a load to carry home.”

When he had determined his pack mule had had enough water, he put the bottle back in its holder at his left hip and then patted his mule on the head. “Glad my slave got to meet Jenn. I like her.” He looked over to where the slave dish rested and said, “It’s time for my slave to have lunch.”

by slave 7

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