I am on my knees. Hands behind my back. Restrained. Eyes fixed on Master's strong, supple, smooth body. He is muscular, but not muscle-bound. Wrapping strong arms around my neck, he pulls me forward and enjoys the struggles of my tongue against his flesh. Suck nips. Kiss his narrow waist. Lick his firm inner thigh. The dick bulging out of his black jockstrap is hard like his body. Sizeable. Dripping. My lips close in. I breathe deep. Master grabs my hair roughly and tilts my head back. He nods. His handsome face almost breaks into a smile. He reaches down to free that hidden object of desire. At last!...
A loud noise. My phone. Fuck. It was just a dream. I answer. Master tells me I have one hour to prepare for the final test.
# # #
The final test takes place in public. Whatever happens, I must stay calm and businesslike. If I call attention to myself, Master will send me home.
Master wants a latte. I drive him to a nearby coffee shop. He reads his newspaper, while I go to the counter. Drinking slowly, he savors the hot liquid. He even takes it with him when he gets up to relieve his bladder. "My coffee is cold," he says on his return, pushing the cup across the table. "It is still delicious. Finish it. All of it." No one in the café can tell I am drinking my Master's piss. I show him the empty cup when I am finished.
We drive to the Mall. Master wants to look for new trousers for me. He selects dark brown khakis. I think they are too large, but of course, I try them on. When I come out of the dressing room, Master sticks his hand inside the waist band as if he is testing the fit. He checks for the jock strap he had ordered me to wear. Then he reaches behind and quickly puts his hand down the back. I feel a finger push against my butt plug. He smiles broadly. "The pants are too big." I smile too.
We return to the car. Master takes out a pair of gloves. He winks at me. "I'm having trouble with arthritis in my fingers." I drive Master to a shoe store where he picks out three dress shoes to try on. The salesman brings out three boxes and tells us to take our time. He will come back to check on how we are doing. "My arthritis," Master holds up his gloved hands. "I can't use my fingers." Quickly, I am on my knees, undoing Master's laces and reaching for the first pair of new shoes. I stay on my knees while Master walks around the store checking them out. We repeat the procedure with the other two pair. Master continues to complain about his stiff fingers. I am trying to hide the stiff erection that is growing in my pants.
We leave the shoe store without buying shoes. Master directs me to a bar I do not know. "My back bothers me," he says. "Get my cane from the trunk." I know that Master is in great physical shape. I am about to be the willing victim of another humiliating, inventive role play. I am not surprised to find a cane in the truck. Master takes my arm. He walks slowly, in apparent pain. The bar is a mellow gay neighborhood watering hole. I bring two beers to our table. Master ignores me. He is relaxed, enjoying his drink. After 20 minutes, he asks me to help him make it to the restroom. There are two guys pissing; one urinal is unoccupied. Master props his cane against the wall and holds on to the top of the urinal with both gloved hands to steady himself. "You know what to do," he says very quietly. I unzip his fly. Somehow, I am able to free his dick from his tight jeans. "That's good," he says. "Now hold it." My hands are shaking, but I manage to keep the sizeable shaft well positioned and even dutifully shake out the last drops when he is finished.