That's generally what I sent to my intended hookups and you can probably see why I thought it would scare him off. My owner usually lets me choose to mention if I'm straight/blackmailed or not unless he sets up the meet, in which case he decides. I figured it might help with this guy but sometimes it's simpler to just to be in "fag mode" as we call it and let them think I'm into whatever they want me to do. Granted, the whole message after that part made me sound like the biggest faggot in the world, but I had to include all the other stuff. I know the "mouth pussy" part is really weird -- it's just one of the rules of self-reference I follow. The link at that time would go to this file sharing site that had a bunch of my photos that again, might scare this guy off (licking urinals, pissing on myself, sucking dick, posing naked, etc...) so I included some photos in the email in the hopes that he would not follow the link.
Since this story is about him, you can probably guess that he replied to me. It was fast, within 10 to 15 minutes or so. He sent a text and verified that I was available that night, reiterated that I wasn't to speak, gave me his address, and told me to be there at 10PM and just walk through the door and basically get to work on his sack. I texted him back that I'd be there.
I think it was about 6PM or so by the time everything was set up. I was on cam whenever I was home at this point and my owner was online so I gloated a little bit at my small victory of finding this easier option (I know, it's a sad thing when you can gloat about only having to lick balls). He seemed amused by the whole thing but said he'd be more specific the next time since he had wanted me to at least suck dick. There were other guys watching on cam too so he had me entertain them for the next hour or so, I don't remember doing what exactly.
After that my owner and I picked out what I'd wear. One of my old rules for my slaves had come back to haunt me in a big way. Specifically, I'd told them something like fags should always be identifiable and dress slutty. I didn't create this rule or anything and I'm sure I probably stole it from someone else just to get the cash slaves turned on, but it became a rule for me anyway.
So, most of my clothes were altered to be kind of gay whorish. Flip flops or bare feet, shorts cut around mid-thigh, and a cut-off or semi-cut-off wifebeater were pretty standard wear. Since I'd promised this guy discretion though and he was straight, I convinced my owner to lighten up a bit and I got to wear a full, although way too small, pink wifebeater and some jeans that just had holes like, everywhere in them (I hated washing them because they always came out more shredded than they were before and they eventually did fall completely apart). I almost always wore white briefs with the holey jeans since they showed really well through the holes (I didn't choose that by the way) but since the guy I was meeting was straight and I was so worried about turning him off, my owner told me to wear these ridiculous men's pink panty hybrid things (it was feminine underwear but made for men -- wouldn't look good on either sex). That was just his way of getting back at me for trying to get out of wearing the sluttier stuff I imagine.
With that out of the way, I was allowed to take a shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, etc... Deodorant was considered a luxury item which I usually wasn't allowed but it was approved for these meetings unless otherwise stated so I got to use that. Since I had to walk 2 miles in the summer heat (it was mid to late July when this kicked off) it was appreciated. I needed to leave at about 9PM to make sure I had time to walk to this guy's place, so I was about ready to go.
I've already mentioned I was on cam 24/7 at my apartment and this applied to right up to the moment I opened my door to leave. I always had to angle my laptop (or use an attached wired camera) so it was focused on wherever I was in the apartment so the guys watching had something to look at and so that my owner could make sure I was obeying my home rules.
Before I left the apartment, it was always the same thing. I'd crawl over to the door (crawling whenever possible was a requirement). Then I'd stay on all fours, pull my pants/underwear down and show my ass to the camera. I had a buttplug that I was expected to keep either in my mouth or my ass at all times -- basically it always had to be in one of my holes unless otherwise instructed. I kept it in my mouth as much as possible at home but guys who were watching me would constantly have me switch it around. So, I'd show my ass to the camera and if the plug was in my mouth at that time, I had to take it out and stuff it in my ass (since I couldn't walk down the street with a plug in my mouth) and then I could pull my pants back up. And if it was already in my ass, I could just show the camera to prove that it was still there and then get dressed again.
Lastly, there were a couple of little hooks by my front door. On one hook, a single pair of white briefs was always hung (I'll cover that in another story) and on the hook beside it was this really shiny linked chain (the links were about 1/3 or 1/4 the size of the classic big chain you might be imagining) and a medium padlock (big enough though that I actually needed to use some pliers to stretch the chain links a bit so it could lock through them) along with its only key. I was allowed to stand up at this point and grab the chain, lock, and key, put them all in my mouth, then get back on all fours, crawl over to table where the laptop was focused on the entryway, stand back up, lift my foot up onto the table so my ankle was right in front of the camera, loop the chain around my ankle (it went around three times with some slack left over), lock the padlock through the chain so it stayed on, and then set the key down in front of the laptop so it could be seen on the camera (to make sure there was no funny business, like unlocking it as soon as I left the apartment). Then I could put my foot down and remove my collar (if I was wearing one -- I had several and sometimes the viewers wanted them on, sometimes off), put that in my mouth, get back down on all fours, crawl back to my door, stand up, and hang the collar from the now empty hook. Finally, I would get back down on all fours, face the camera, kiss the floor and thank my owner for training me to be his slave. Then I'd rise up to my knees, wave goodbye to the camera, thank everyone for watching, and then I could finally open the door and peek out into the hallway, shuffle out on my knees, close the door, and stand up and get moving. Exhausting just to read, right? Anyway, after all that I texted the guy to let him know I was on my way.
I realized the danger of telling these stories a few paragraphs ago when I was describing what I usually had to wear when I left the apartment. As I mentioned at the start of this, when he gave me this task, my owner was very clear that I need to be as descriptive as possible and be completely honest. I'm being pretty damn descriptive so that shouldn't be a problem. I've suffered a lot for lying to him in the past about various things though (he really doesn't tolerate it at all). He promised me that these writings would be a safe space for me to say anything I wanted without fear of punishment (I might even be rewarded if these stories entertain him enough) as long as I'm, again, descriptive/do a good job and honest about everything. As much as I assume I would have been punished long ago for some of the stuff I might reveal, I'm not going to risk that this is a trap to punish me for lying about stuff now. Stuff that maybe he already knows about and has been sitting on this whole time. Granted, this could also be a trap to get me to reveal some of my tricks so he can better monitor me in the future but who knows. Kind of a mindfuck.
I'll take the honest route, so here's one trick. I had several secret sets of clothes I would change into after I left the apartment so I wasn't walking around dressed like a gay slut. I'd had to dress the same way sometimes in the suburbs too but back then I had a vehicle so changing and storing additional clothing was much easier. In the city -- not so much.
I lived on the 8th floor of my apartment building and there was nowhere there or on the seven floors below it to stash clothes (just doors to tons of apartments and a tiny room on each floor with a garbage chute) and since my laptop would still be showing footage of my doorway for a couple hours after I left before it went into hibernation mode, it wasn't like I could just walk back in and change. I initially thought about storing the normal clothes in bushes or something outside of my apartment building but then they'd get wet when it rained, how would I strip to change clothes without being seen, etc...
There WAS an underground parking garage beneath my building though, so I snooped around down there as soon as I moved in, before I even had internet connected, and found some places I could hide jeans (without holes) and shirts, even normal shoes, socks, and boxers. I had a few different hiding spots there but mostly hid everything under the lowest pallet in a stack of pallets that was in one of the corners of the garage (it never moved the entire time I lived there -- why was it there?). I was also able to change easily without being seen by people or the garage cameras if I squeezed in behind the pallet stack and used that to hide me. I still had to make it down eight floors of the apartment building and through the garage while dressed like a whore but it was a lot better than walking around the city that way.
