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CONTENT: a story about whites serving Asian and African men in tropical, futuristic environments, with their deepest desires on display.
##### BOYS OF DUKUMRA #####
There were many reasons to immigrate to paradise. Too many even, after the 2040s `southern boom'.
So the beautiful oceanic country of Dukumra had to slow down the onslaught of westerners and make them integrate better via the W.H.I.T.E. program, which stood for Work, Habilitation, Integration, Training, Enhancement.
I was one of the lucky `white monkeys' enjoying life in the capital, Patrabok, since I had turned 18 a few years ago. Like most mornings, I was jogging along the bay's rows of colorful midrises, feeling the ocean breeze in my blond hair.
A holographic collar sat around my neck as a thin, white glow. My blue sneakers carried me along the paved promenade, matching my blue ear tag that designated me as property of Master Saif Ahmad.
Of course M.A.S.T.E.R. simply stood for Management, Assessment, Supervision, Troubleshooting, Enforcement, Reporting and was a title bestowed on any man willing to assist my integrations. Master Saif was as much my friend as he was my owner.
There was no other clothing on me, but of course I had the `Tri' - a marvel of hypersurgic neo-grafting. When a whiteman checked into Dukumra Immigration, his cock and balls were reduced and inverted into his body. A flexible, hypoallergenic triangle in the color of my skin covered the area, leaving barely a bulge on the smooth, flat crotch, totally unobtrusive.
This neo-grafting technique was easy and widespread, so all over Dukumra faces were handsome, bodies shapely, shafts long and thick.
Above the Tri, where the pubes would have been, sat the letter J like a tattoo, which was my initial. I legally couldn't use my full name until I was out of the integration program.
Since calling people only by a letter felt odd, Master Saif had come up with a name for me -- Jizzfag. A bit rude, but I had to admit it was accurate.
Wearing so little had felt strange at first, but with Dukumra's amazing weather, the resident brown boys and girls wore little more than what prude past decades would have called swimwear, even if the fabric was more sophisticated.
Exhibiting my well-developed body was also necessary to show the S-display.
Projected onto my skin in the look of a tattoo was my white status, written once onto my pecs and once onto my upper back. The status itself was the result of neuro-catalog rating and ultra-deep-learning context assessment.
The first line of the faux-tattoo marked me as a Horny Inferior', the second as a cock craving public nuisance in neglect of duty, the third called me Feral'.
Confused? Let me explain.
There were four levels of arousal, starting at Randy'. Non-sexual mood simply wasn't displayed. I was on level 2, Horny', because I'd had sexual thoughts ever since jogging past the first hot Dukumran in a speedo.
It was marked as down-trending with little arrows because jogging distracted me, lowering my arousal over time.
`Horny' monkeys were not allowed to be alone with women, by the way. Not a restriction I cared about.
Being `Inferior' was not a judgement but an indicator of my attitude toward the White programs tenets. At my current level, one out of four, I was considered mentally within the guidelines -- not looking down on the native population, but up to them.
`Feral' simply meant I wasn't on a job right now, free time -- available for use to anyone.
The middle line was the most complicated. Synaptic impulse measurements -- developed for high risk convicts - were able to figure out my likeliest urge. Right now my main urge was probably drinking water but such totally normal needs were ignored by the system, which only displayed troubling or potentially criminal urges. I wasn't going to neglect my duties, but as long as I had even one percent of an urge to do so, the system was going to pick up on that.
I received a Reminder -- a rough vibration of my Tri traveling into my shrunk, inverted genitals. I must have missed a task.
Checking my wrist I saw a message from Master Galang - one of mine and my owner's friends. Master Galang had access to my location data, of course, so he had known I was nearby.
Jizzfag,' the message said, catch me at the beach with 3 cups.'
Attached was the location of a bakery five minutes from me. I could see the massive hologram of a twisted donut hovering in front of a blue building.
Responding to a superior's message was permitted anytime. My holo-collar changed from mute' to sound' mode and the vocal redactors in my throat turned off.
I spoke at my wrist. "Sir, this stupid monkey is sorry for making you wait. I'll get right on it. I love your beautiful cock, sir."
On my pecs and back the S-display switched Feral' to In Use' as I now had a purpose. I got automatically muted again.
Horny Inferior' turned to Sex Crazed Inferior'. Thinking about Galang had made me dangerously aroused. But it was accurate -- I would have sat on any dick. Fuck, I'd have sat on anything vaguely shaped like one.
I stopped by the public water fountain and chugged. I was starting to need to piss but the Tri wouldn't allow it until it considered my bladder full.
I got in line at the bakery's take out, trying not to stare too hard at the naked backs of five teen boys with their own beefy, white idiot whose Tri was crowned by a C'. He was a Horny Chauvinist', meaning he must have disagreed with his oceanic friends in the past few hours.
Sadly, I didn't know any of the brown cuties in colorful mini shorts, but I'd seen that overmuscled monkey around. At the whitey dorms, I'd seen his ass swallow xxl dildos that rivaled mine, but we'd rarely been assigned open cots near each other.
I met his green eyes and we nodded in acknowledgement.
Whitemen in the program weren't supposed to make friends with each other, instead hanging out with volunteer natives to integrate better. Not that I'd bother with him. He was a chauvinist, and frankly whites weren't my type.
One of the boys checked me out, however briefly. He had wide shoulders, a boyish face with strong eyebrows. A sharktooth hung on a black necklace. His pink-cyan shorts barely covered his bubble butt.
I swallowed hard. There was no rule against talking to Dukumrans, but my chances felt slim. But since I already had his attention...
My S-display reflected my depraved and manipulative failure of good whitemanship. It showed `current urges: white supremacy, verbal harassment (superior male youth), public urination'.
If I felt owed attention I'd be marked as a chauvinist soon, too. I reminded myself that I deserved nothing but to serve if requested.
"Get my coffee," one of the teens said to one of his buddies in the mix of English with the local language which I continued to find adorable. "Cumstain, I gotta piss."
The monkey bowed. "Sir, I'm ready to drink. This monkey is a whore for piss."
Fucking liar. His S-display switched to `current urges: verbal harassment, disrespecting integration service, neglect of duty'. The teens gracefully ignored his near criminal deceits.
With the white following a cutie to the stalls, the other four moved to a standing table under shade. Two had girlfriends along, wearing thongs, being topless as was now fashion.
The broad, roundfaced one from before checked me out again.
With my back to him, I swiped my wrist to officially register my presence with the bakery's network. Not necessary since I wasn't entering, but it made my S-display unfold more lines, such as:
`2318 days of service left'
`2-R, 4-O (last orgasm 4 days ago)'
`Recent misconducts: tardiness (2 minutes), boasting (sexual), inattention on task (delivery)'
`Current favorite media: Asian Cumshot Whiteman Jizzeating Compilation 5, Current favorite song: Smash that White Ass by DJ SuperiFuck'
There was a lot to explain but let me just say `favorite media' was filled automatically by measuring emotional response strength even if you never rewatched or relistened to it - and I was called Jizzfag for good reason.
This should have indicated my sexuality pretty well. Since sex with women required a permit, straight monkeys had rather pussy-focused media experiences.
It was my turn at the counter where a lady in the sleeveless bakery crop top just said, "And for you, roach?"
The system smartly unmuted me, my holo-collar changing to indicate.
"Madam, this dumb monkey is picking up the order for Master Galang."
I ran my wrist over the counter display. The order terminal showed `Order 0052, 6 items, paid, delivery by J'.
As she got the bag ready while I imagined the cute guy skullfucking me. My S-display switched as I reached arousal level 4. Oops.
The maximum level differed depending on whether you craved cock or pussy and honestly being gay put me at an advantage.
I was now marked as Anal Whore Inferior', In Use', `urges: public sex, anal sexual assault (receiving), cock craving'.
At least he knew I was gay for sure.
I received a bag of cups and pastries and turned around to see the hot guy making out with a chick. Fuck.
No need to look at my chest. I knew it would call me out for my urge of property destruction (since I was holding Master Galang's order while angry) and verbal harassment (I wanted to tell the smooching teens to knock it off). I was now an `Anal Whore Chauvinist'.
My Tri gave me a vibration that shook my guts. A Reminder?
Someone had felt harassed by me and sent me a Reprimand. The smooching teen glanced at me and raised his middle finger. He wanted me punished -- fully deserved.
Silenced again, I jogged toward the beach, then stopped to accept the Reprimand. I stood broad legged on the boardwalk, Patrabok's diverse folk passing me without taking note.
My Tri sent sharp searing shocks into my body, primarily my hidden genitals, along with the dull ache of ball torture. It raced out into the rest of my body and echoed even after the second of active hurt was over.
Any Dukumra citizen could send me a Reprimand, but I had another one pending -- automatically sent by the system for being a public anal whore.
Heat and fury raced from my crotch into every fiber of my being a second time as my arousal status slowly reset.
Obviously, having a racist attitude was bad at any point, but you may wonder why craving a good fuck was an issue. It was a matter of discipline, politeness and ultimately integration. Also, the system had been designed by men and women much smarter than a monkey so I wasn't going to argue -- that would have been racist or at least bad whitemanship.
Tense but mercifully reset to arousal level `Randy' (still a chauvinist, though) I continued my delivery.
Master Galang's location was as usual by the muscle beach open gym. I was already shooting back up to `Horny' at the sight of hard working men in gym thongs and baseball caps, mingling with the occasional chick in a bikini bottom.
Master Galang saw me first and waved. He was lithe, my height, deep brown with stunning ochre eyes and a blue streak in his fringe. A treasure trail leading up from his white speedo was the only hair on his body.
With him was Master Joyo, his white-teethed smile making my knees weak. Master Joyo was on the lighter brown side, a nearly square face on a wide, short neck fitting perfectly on his ripped body.
I went to my knees, bowing, and held on the bag with both hands.
"Hi Jizzfag," Master Galang said casually as he took the bag.
I bent farther and kissed the back of his right foot above the sandal.
My Tri lit up, the cover gleaming in bright white. It had detected that I wished to speak. My collar changed shape to indicate the same.
"Bark, buddy," Master Galang permitted and lightly kicked my Tri with the foot I had just kissed.
"Sir, thank you, sir. This cock craving monkey bitch is happy to serve you, sir. I live to experience real men with beautiful cocks like you, sir."
While I was telling the truth, I had to admit it was also self-serving. My attitude dropped to `Inferior' again, even as my rapid heartbeat kept my arousal trending up.
You see, a whiteman's thoughts and feelings are under scrutiny, but words meant more, even if they are (near) lies. This is how we got ourselves out of trouble and got better at integration.
"Took you a bit," Master Joyo said.
Before I got to apologize, Master Joyo tapped his wrist and my task was marked as completed with minor issues.
As he was a friend of my owner, helping with my integration, this got me an automatic Reprimand pending. He also donated me a personal Reprimand on top.
On eyelevel with both guys' speedos I saw they showed the symbol of the Patrabok Peregrines, Junior Division.
"Practicing today, sirs?" I asked. "May this worthless monkey remain in your presence?"
"Better yet," Master Galang said. "Help Saif with the boards."
"With pleasure, sir. Thank you so much." I rose to his face. "Fuck, sir, you're gorgeous today."
The compliment made sure I stayed at `Inferior' but seeing my friend smile as its own reward. Good whitemanship all around.
I was mildly excited to see my master on an off day, but right now I was more thrilled to walk past the open gym again.
Holding onto a lamp post, I let my Tri reprimand me twice, my jolting body fixated on the glorious hunks of paradise ahead. I stayed at a stable `Horny'.
The teens from earlier -- and their whitey Cumstain -- arrived at the gym. Normally I'd have jogged up and down the beach to keep watching, but my owner waited.
Master Saif was one head shorter than me, stout and lightly muscled with firm legs. He had a short ponytail with the sides and back of his head hairless. His smirk showed a corner tooth covered in silvery crystals, sparkling like his necklace. A neat `mustache' of pubes sat above his extra small Patrabok Peregrines speedo.
He had three custom WaveRip lightkite boards under his right arm -- thick one-and-a-half meter (5 foot) boards with edges lined by ion-optronic thrust emitter grids.
My Tri lit up as I approached. I dropped before him, gave his feet a kiss and let me tongue run up his cut thighs.
"Good timing, Jizzfag," he said. "I was about to find another monkey."
Master Saif gestured me to rise, handed me the lightkites and slapped my crotch hard enough to make me feel it in the balls deep inside me. He denied me permission to speak, though.
Three kites barely weighed half a kilo, they were just a little cumbersome. We dropped the equipment off with Master Galang and Master Joyo.
Behind a changing booth, half hidden behind a winking holographic mermaid, I dropped to my knees and open my mouth. Again, my Tri lit with the hope for permission to speak.
Master Saif gave my Tri a light kick to turn the light off - denied. He pulled his dick out, laid it on my tongue and pissed.
A dick in my mouth I wasn't allowed to suck was torture. I turned `Sex Crazed' again.
Whites had no choice but to drink piss. It was one of the programs anti-pride measures. Whenever a society had underdogs, those tended to become cool and fashionable at least to the rebellious youth of that society. To keep whiteness from becoming cool, the program created associations. Piss drinking was one, mandatory permission for straight sex another.
Master Saif shook his last few drops at my face. I flinched but stayed kneeling, open mouthed. This was as much as I'd get and I wanted to enjoy it.
"Stick around if you want," my owner said.
He walked off, leaving me sex crazed and trending up, now considered `Feral' again.
The three peregrines joined the lightkiters already out on the ocean where neon streaks trailed the boards above the water.
Their kites gleaming at the edges, propulsion powering up, the boys entered a formation on a wave, trailed by green, blue and orange ion streaks respectively.
They pulled up, their arms and legs flexed beautifully in the forceful jump motion, naked feet stuck to the board's skin-grip flow-pads.
The lightkites rose off the ocean surface. Rising a meter higher for every ten meters distance, the surfers drifted in a shallow arc to grace the next wave.
Master Joyo wobbled on impact and turned upside down. He crashed into the ocean and the other two dropped as fast as they safely could, grinning. An amateurish mistake. Master Joyo was going to be mad.
I squirmed at the potential of a rage fuck later. I was definitely going to stick around.
I checked myself into the outdoor gym, my S-display again showing my extended stats for a minute.
The network asked me to prove my cleanness as I entered. At the sanitation terminal -- a little gray pillar -- I swiped three fingers over the L-pump nozzles and got a thin film of fast drying hyper-lubricant.
With my legs shoulder wide apart and lightly bent I shoved those slick fingers up my hole and fingerfucked.
This proved I wouldn't dirty the equipment but frankly this was mostly another anti-pride measure.
Teasing myself was always aggravating but also fun. I hammered until the lube started to dry, the free hand casually brushing my nipples.
I held my hands under the bio-pulse instant-disinfection screen and a flash removed any remaining lube film.
As I began a casual training routine, I alternated between watching my friends and watching the guys around Cumstain. I could tell the monkey had just caught up to them because his S-display was still expanded. His favorite song' was Female moan compilation vol-7'. What a tool.
The teen who had fed Cumstain piss finished a set of chest presses and went to drink a Power Cola.
It reminded me of how full my own bladder was, not that I needed a reminder. One of the urges written on my skin was definitely `public urination' once again.
Someone slapped me on the ass. I turned to see the guy with the shark tooth necklace who had checked me out earlier. A jolted at the surprise, a light being on between my legs.
I widened my stance and he kneed me in the crotch. The Tri limited how much damage that could do but I sure felt it in the balls. My Tri and collar flashed as I was permitted to speak.
"Sir, this useless whitemen would love to be of service, sir."
"Cool, I'm Intan."
He had traded his mini shorts for a bright pink gym thong that sat beautifully on his tawny skin. The padded pouch obscured the shape of his genitals but I had to summon all my discipline to keep my eyes above his nipples.
"A pleasure for this monkey named Jizzfag to meet you, sir, Master Intan, sir."
"Jizzfag, nice. I was checking you out at the other place."
Jackpot.
I tried to keep my breath calm, but my Tri vibrated. I had `Anal Whore' written all over me now.
"This monkey is happy to know it has been noticed by someone so stunning, sir."
Master Intan looked over at the chest press station, where Cumstain was working out. The guy whose piss he had drank was holding hands with... Intan's girlfriend?
Master Intan grinned. "Amisha is dating both of us, if you're wondering."
"Ah, this monkey is stupid even for a whitemen, sir. Thank you for spelling it out."
"Want your O?"
I could have dropped to my knees right there. "Of course, sir. We monkeys exist to service real man, sir, so no reward is necessary, but any gift will be met with gratitude, sir."
Master Intan didn't specify, so it was obviously sex he had in mind. He put his hand on my back and pushed me along, toward his friend group.
"Hey Bakti," Intan said, talking to the guy cuddling with Amisha. "Help out our poor Cumstain?"
The hunky white was labeled a Rapey Bigot'. For guys into pussy, Rapey' was equivalent to `Anal Whore' but with worse consequences. He must have been hot for Amisha, consumed with the urge to fuck. Not my problem.
`Bigot' told me he thought of himself as equal to a native or had refused an order.
His urges were `sexual assault (female), public masturbation, public urination'.
This didn't mean he wanted to do any of that very much, only that the thoughts were present in his mind. Still an all-around disgrace.
"Sure," Bakti said. "Finished with the set, bitch?"
"Yes, Master Bakti," Cumstain said. Now I could see that the green tag on his ear listed Bakti as his owner.
Master Bakti was short, wide chested with popping abs and bald. His removed head hair was replaced by a detailed tattoo running along his head like a mohawk.
The four of us -- me, Cumstain, Master Bakti and Master Intan -- made it to a generous changing booth. There was a padded bench with enough space for one couple.
The boys dropped their gym wear and I started sucking Master Intan's dick with abandon. Cumstain just prepared his ass.
Generally straight guys hated giving oral, but eventually found a way to bare regular ass sex. Some eventually learned to love it, especially after a week or more without orgasm. I almost wished the dumb hetero monkey wasn't here, leaving one dick for each of my ends.
After a lovely suck, Master Intan pumped lube from a dispenser -- those changing booths knew what they were about -- and rubbed his hardon.
Master Bakti was already taking the bent over monkey from behind.
"What position would you like, sir?" I asked.
"Doggy. On the bench."
"Sir, yes, sir."
I went on all fours on the comfortable padding, ass arching up, and let Master Intan do all the work pleasuring me. He wasn't the roughest but it was worth my time, plus I got to watch Master Bakti grimace in pleasure.
To be clear, sex was not mandatory. I had a feeling Cumstain tended to decline the invitation when he could afford the attitude increase.
But the straight whitemen had jumped up to Bigot', which was dangerously close to max level attitude. With enough pleasant words (even lies) he could have made up for it, but actions spoke loudest of all. Going above and beyond to please his master was a great way to get back to Inferior'.
He seemed to enjoy it anyway, arousal dropping only to Horny', although not all the way to Randy', let alone neutral. Arousal never increased during sex, which made cock sucking a great option for straight guys to keep from turning `Rapey'.
Eventually, the superior teen shot his load into my hole. I clenched rhythmically to pump him dry.
Moments after he slipped out, I got a notification. I had gotten an O.
I rolled onto my back to look up at him. "Thank you, Master Intan, sir. That is so generous. Whitemen must love you, sir. I know I do. Especially your beautiful cock, sir."
Master Intan laughed. "Okay, Jizzfag, calm down. You're already at minimum attitude."
"Just sharing my thoughts, sir."
Master Bakti tapped my Tri with his knee, revoking my permission to speak -- and adding a jolt of ball pain. He sent me a Reprimand.
I gave a nod of understanding, crawled off the bench and left the booth. The Reprimand seared through me, making my thighs quiver comically for a second.
Getting fucked with a full bladder was always a special affair. With the added ball pain I was in an overly energetic mood. I drank lots from the gym's fountain to speed up my bladder's journey toward the threshold that would let me piss.
With cum in my hole I was no longer hygienic, so I had to go douche.
The whitemen station was in front of the toilets, a hip high post with a half dozen hoses hooked to it atop a grate. I shoved one into my hole and felt the flush-suck pumping. I was shielded from the worst of the sun by a holo-banner ad hovering above.
Looking out over the beach, seeing my owner among the lightkiters, I counted myself lucky again to be welcome in paradise.
Cumstain approached the station, too, and started douching next to me.
He grabbed my crotch, his large hand easily covering my Tri.
I reached across and touched his Tri, too, feeling the skin-like featureless smoothness.
This way we were giving each other permission to speak.
"What's up, bitch?" I asked.
Cumstain grunted. "Jizzfag, right? And I thought I had the worst fucking name."
"It's grown on me," I said with a chuckle.
"Seen you around."
"Same, but not often. You don't run deliveries much?"
"Receptionist at Melati's," Cumstain said. "Copywriting when I can get it."
"Cool. I'm mostly retail. I'm done, by the way."
The hose retreated. I stepped off the grate, hand still on Cumstain's crotch.
"Do you get Os every day?" I asked.
"Yeah, pretty lucky, huh? Your friends make you work for them?"
I shrugged. "They don't tend to offer." I reflexively added, "Whitemen like me deserve nothing."
"As a monkey I deserve nothing," Cumstain quickly confirmed. "But I'd go mad. Some days I think about quitting, but..." His eyes trailed the skyline. "Leaving paradise for what's waiting back home? Nah. And the boys drop me an O a day. Yours really don't?"
"Nope. I'm fine with my allowance. I love my superior friends and their gorgeous cocks."
"Makes sense if you're a real Jizzfag, hehe." He quickly added, "I love to serve superior men."
Lying again, what an asshole.
Both our crotches vibrated. I had a punishment pending from being maximally aroused. Same was true for him, surely.
The hunk chuckled and retracted his hand. I could no longer speak freely. Fine by me.
I stepped aside just as he was done douching. We both went on all fours.
I had already gotten two automatic Reprimands by the system, so my next penalty was an Admonishment. Lightning struck me, reaming my body through and through. High tech skin projection added a hundred shocks racing all across me like whip cracks.
I was screaming madly, but my vocal redactor dampened the sound, ensuring I produced no more than a whisper.
Cumstain, too, was getting pain-fucked to hell and back.
Ten seconds later, I rose trembling, lightheaded. It felt like I had just woken up.
We parted.
Now, maybe you wonder what an O is. Every completed workday, a whiteman gets an automatic O-point. Additionally, he can get an O a day from any native men. (Not from a woman or every poor female would get besieged by obnoxious white monkeys begging for an O.)
Ten Os could be traded anytime for a penile orgasm, courtesy of the Tri. If a generous men granted you an O every day, it only took five workdays to orgasm. I was halfway there, but I wasn't exactly hunting for Os like most straight monkeys.
Walking off the tension, I found my way to my friends, who were debriefing on towels under an arrangement of sun sails.
I was at the point where my need to piss made even walking painful. I had no reason to worry, though. The Tri prevented release, so I didn't actively have to hold it in and I'd get permission to piss before it got dangerous to my health.
Kneeling down next to Master Saif, I spread my legs and hoped one of the guys would give my Tri a kick. Not that I needed to say anything, but it's more fun with friends if you don't have to stay mute.
Instead, Master Saif grabbed my hair and pulled me into his crotch. The bulge of his speedo and his gorgeously firm, smooth, dark legs drove me mad. I licked everything in reach and fought the urge to go right for his cock. Surely my back read `urge: neglect of duty, cock craving'.
Master Saif shoved me away when I reached `sex crazed' level and finally gave my Tri a fist punch.
"Thank you, Master Saif, sir. Being this close to your cock is every monkey's dream."
Master Galang handed me the bakery's bag, now much lighter. "Return those."
"Sir, it's my pleasure to be useful to a superior, sir."
I jogged off, letting the piss pain prevent my arousal from rising. My mind was still between my owner's legs. There was a chance I wouldn't even get to suck or ride it today, sadly.
Just after I had deposited the used cups and gotten Master Galang his money back, I got smacked hard on the ass.
It was Master Bakti. He must have come straight here. His naked torso made my knees weak, his smirk even more so.
I gave a polite nod and to my joy he kneed me in the Tri. He looked at my flashing crotch.
"J... What was it again?"
"This whitemen has been named Jizzfag, Master, which is perfectly accurate. Of course this white monkey will obey under any name a superior blesses it with, sir."
"Sure," Master Bakti said. "So you're around this place often?"
"This cockwhore lives in the dorm a fifteen minute jog from here, Master, and the beach is my friends' main hangout."
"Nice. This bakery is actually my uncle's, so I might start working here, and my uncle hasn't hired any whites so I was wondering what hole to fuck when Amisha isn't putting out."
"It would be my pleasure, Master Bakti. You have a beautiful cock and this jizz hungry fag wishes to experience it. If that would be all right with you, sir."
I was obviously at `Anal Whore' level. I felt nearly delirious with desire.
Glancing down, my current urges were `anal sexual assault (receiving), public sex, public urination'. Sounded accurate.
I tapped my wrist and held it out. Master Bakti swiped his own wrist over mine, receiving my contact data, sexual history, and permanent permission to see my location.
The superior teen entered the bakery, while I started my jog back to the beach. Just when I thought it couldn't get better, I got permission to piss.
The nearest douche station was at the edge of a plaza, where I arrived with two other whitemen, probably 18-ish. I didn't bother acknowledging them. They were currently `Bigots'. I couldn't even remember the last time I had disobeyed an order.
I just kept my eyes on the loose crowd of beachgoers, workers and tourists in flimsy clothing.
I spread my legs above the grate and a tiny hole at the lower tip of the Tri opened.
A hard, clear stream rushed straight down, as did two others next to me. We three white monkeys fingered our nipples as relief rippled up our spines. Who needed orgasms when you got to piss a maximally full bladder a few times a day?
I refilled myself at the water fountain and went to all fours. My arousal had dropped a level but I was still guilty of having had anal whore thoughts. It barely mattered -- for a gay guy, there was no long term consequence to craving a fuck.
My second Admonishment rushed through me. Pain spread from the Tri to everywhere, while projections touched my skin with the strength of a whip crack, over and over. I couldn't say if I was screaming or frozen silent, my muted voice overpowered by nearby chatter.
When I got back up, arousal reset, I got a message from Master Saif.
[Jizzy, stow our boards and pick up our trash. Joyo and I went for holo-billiard at the club. Yes, you can join. His chick is coming later so we'll do teams of two.]
I spoke into my wrist. "Thank you, Master. This dumb fag hopes it will be useful if it is blessed to be on your team. Looking forward to serving your balls."
A little more cutesy than I usually tried to sound, but I was floating on a mix of piss-relief, admonish-afterburn and a few days of orgasm-denial.
I straightened myself after a deep breath, trying not to think about Master Saif and Master Joyo playing billiard in their speedos -- let alone the other guys surely at Club-H.
I jogged toward the beach, quiet and attentive, feeling welcomed into paradise.