Merchandise Comes As Is

Merchandise Comes As Is...

“Master, where would you like the chairs to go” I asked.
“Why don’t you stack them like we did last time, next to the boxes of clothing in the garage.”
“Ok”, I said.

I bent over deliberately with a slow inhale and hoisted both chairs into my arms carefully and took them out through the kitchen and into the garage. Inside I stacked them away as carefully as Master had shown me in exactly the place he said.

I loved Master, in a way. I loved what he brought out in me, that element of service and submission. But submission that is of the sorts that wants to do its absolute best. And because I felt comfortable with Masters wishes and expectations of me, I felt comfortable with my best.

Once Master had me set the tables. I watched Him first, observing the order in which he set the China and then the silverware. And then I followed, obediantely mimicing his motions, proudly wearing the civilization he brings to the beast inside. And this delights me. And I know it delights Him.
But there is One thing that he must know…

Merchandise Comes As Is

How is the Merchandise…

As is ready

Is worn

Is torn out of

Porno

Magazines Heir’s

As you Are

As is

Verbs rebounding

Sounds a ruckus

Pounding

In my head

As SHIT SIT PISS

As his dreams

Of bliss

As a handful of money bought hand over fist

Well, remember…

Merchandise comes as is…

“Come on me, whore” I said.
And as he jerked off, he did. That was enough for me. I had gotten what I came for. A fantasy's load of semen blasted on my back. He came to kiss me and I laughed him off and said, "None of that".