Driven by Craving

As tired and as hungry as she was, she could not eat, she could not rest in her cage as she once had, something was wrong, she knew it. After telling her of her failure in the test that He had planned for her, Master had not spoken another word to her while He cleaned her off outside and then placed her in her traveling crate after filling up the food and water trays. Since the last trip to the doctor's office, this crate had been put in storage and the fact that He had her in it now, well, she knew, it wasn't good. Besides that she could hear Him on the phone arranging for someone to come pick up the crate. He was giving her away; she had failed so badly that He was sending her away.

she wanted to pace, she wanted to scream, she wanted to do something to get His attention as He spoke on the phone to tell Him how sorry she was, to beg Him to not give her away, to promise that she would never act like she had ever again. After He hung up the phone, she could hear Him moving through the house and it sounded like He was collecting things. And after He got out His electric screwdriver/drill and detached the milking machine from its spot in His office, she felt whatever small hope that she had been wrong about Him sending her away die. When the knock on the door came, and He let the person in, she did not even look up to see whom He was giving her to. What did it matter, He was sending her away with out a word. What difference did it make who she was going to, she was already dead inside with that knowledge that He didn't want her anymore.

she heard Him tell the man that all the slut's supplies were all boxed up and ready for him to take. What she heard next surprised her. she heard Him say that's right I want all three that we have spoken about and heard Him ask how long it would take for all three. she could feel her heart start to hope again that He would want her back, only to have it crash once more when she heard Him say that He needed to know so that He could make all the arrangements for the auction. The man then started on a long explanation about curing, sizes, colors, rest periods, and other things that she didn't really comprehend because all she could think about was the word auction. Whatever time period the man had finally decided on seemed to be acceptable to Master as she could hear Him thanking the man and asking him if he wanted helped carrying the crate out to his truck.

As They came into the room to take the crate out, she opened her mouth to try to beg her Master to please not send her away, but before she could get a word out, she heard her Master say, “Not a word cunt. I do not want to hear one word.” Then He turned to the man and said “You have My permission to punish the cunt if she doesn't obey you. Just don't mark her too badly as I don't have her marked for the auction, it might cut down on sale value.” After hearing Him say to her that He planned to auction her away, she collapsed in a heap and started to sob in despair. As she lay there sobbing, she took no notice of what was happening around her, when she was carried to the truck and the crate was tied in place, when the man got in and started up the truck, how far he drove, when she was carrying out of the truck, none of it registered, all of it was a tear-soaked blur. None of it had the same impact as knowing He was auctioning her away.

The next thing she knew, the crate was being rattled and she heard the man say, “Time to wake up cunt. It is time to start what I like to call the slut-slave beautification project.” As she opened her eyes she recognized the man who had done her piercings. “your Master was extremely disappointed that His slave forgot what its place, what it is, so He wants it permanently marked so it will never forget again. First, its slave registration bar code right on that cunt mound, so it will never forget that it is an owned cunt. I am really going to enjoy that one, though I'm not how much fun it will be for you. Second, on its front, right under those huge udders that we will milk in a few moments, one of my best works of art. Don't you agree cunt.”

As he said that he held up a picture of a kneeling slut with her mouth open wide surrounded by a number of cocks each spraying piss, some of it going in her mouth and running out of her mouth, dripping down her chin unto her tits, some of it soaking her hair matting her hair to her head, and there were drops falling from her nipples. And even worst it looked like the slut's tits were covered with shit and framing the entire picture in big bold letters were the words ‘Communal Toilet.' As she looked at the picture, the thought of being permanently marked as the toilet that she had become made her groan with shame.

“Hmmm, no comment on my artistry. Well maybe you will like the work of art that is planned for your back better. It was really complicated, the colors that I am going to have to use to make it really stand out. To get all the details that your Master wanted, it will probably have to cover most of your back, but as I always say anything that is worth doing is worth doing right.”

When she saw the next picture, she could not stop the moan that escaped from her lips or the tears that sprang from her eyes. After all her sobbing she had not thought she had any more tears to cry, but this, what would be permanently inked on her back, the humiliation of it was so bad that she could not help herself. It was a full size picture of her on her hands and knees, her massive udders hanging down, her head down close to the ground, her ass high in the air, and in her mouth, the cock of a huge dog, big full purple and thick, attached to each of her utters, a puppy's mouth sucking each teat, and mounting her from behind a huge dog pistoning his cock into her cunt and the entire scene was framed with the words ‘Full-Service Bitch.'

“I can see that my work had the desired effect. Can't you just imagine, everyone who looks at you from now on will know exactly what you are and I imagine that will make it impossible for you to forget your place ever again. However artistry like this takes time, and I will not have a lazy cunt just hanging around doing nothing between sessions, so your job while you are here is to help take care of the shop, clean up, help me with my customers. While you are here cunt, there will be a new definition given to customer service as it will be your job to orally service each of my customers before and after each of their sittings to help them relax. I think my customers will love watching a naked slut working around my shop, watching its transformation. And of course, as part of my payment for my hard work, I have been given full access to all of your slut holes, which I intend to make full use of. I can see that in this cumming month, ha, ha little joke, that business should pick up quite well. Speaking of cumming by the way, though I and my customers will be cumming regularly, you are not allowed to cum at all, your Master's orders. Time for the cow's milking, this time without the bull cock before we begin.”

And begin they did, in no time, she was strapped to a table her legs spread obscenely wide, her cunt raised incredibly high so that her mound was prominently displayed. As he measured so that he could center the bar code, he kept up a steady flow of comments about how his customers were going to love watching him work on her and how he had to make sure not to disturb the piercings that were already in place. As he began, inking the first bar in the center of the code, he told her that he would not be reminding when to milk from now on, when it needed to be done, she was to ask for permission and go do it, same with using her bucket. He told her that her bucket was to be dumped in the toilet in the back of the shop and as she was also going to be using the toilet for washing up, the first thing she would want to clean would be that bathroom.

As he spoke, laying out her daily instructions, he continued working on the bar code. With each prick of the needle, the pain level increased until if she had not been strapped down so tightly, she would have been writhing from it. Biting her lip not to scream, she could hear him chuckle, enjoying the pain that he was causing her, commenting that he was going to have to get a ball gag ready for these sessions. Finally giving her cunt some rest, he stopped working on the bar code and starting outlining the slut for the stomach tattoo. He continued to work away, humming or talking to himself until he decided that enough work had been done for tonight. As he lay down his tools, he said, “Normally you will be sleeping in your crate, but I don't want any of my work to get smeared, so you will stay on the table tonight. My apartment is just upstairs and I will have the monitor on, so don't misbehave or I will hear it. See you tomorrow, cunt. Sleep well.”

And so her time in the tattoo shop began, each day more or less the same, her world limited to the first floor of the shop. Some days there was a tattooing session, either on her front or her back, other days, what he called resting days, there was no session. Sometimes her movements were restricted so that the tattoo wouldn't smear, other times, she moved all over the shop, cleaning up the shop, scrubbing the bathroom, doing whatever needed to be done. Everything she did and everything that was done to her was all done before the curious eyes of his customers, when she knelt on her hands and knees with her ass high and her legs spread wide to eat or drink from her bowls, or when she squatted over her bucket to use her toilet or when she crawled between his legs and served as his toilet. The comments that they made when they watched her get milked or service another customer echoed in her head at night as did his comments on how he was going to have to bid for her at the auction because business had never been better. As painful as each tattooing session was, she wished there were more, that it would take longer because she knew that as soon as the last drop of ink was applying, she was going back to be auctioned off forever. And each night, she cried herself to sleep to that thought.