Two slaves in Madrid 16

The first place Josh and I went for beers was a typical tapas bar in Sol. I ordered two beers, and when the waiter brought them, I began giving him his first orders…

“I’m going to drink all the beers I want; you, however, will only have one in each place, and I advise you to take only a couple of sips to keep up appearances… the beer you’re going to drink today will be everything that comes out of my cock. Is that clear, whore?”

“Totally clear, master. I didn’t even want to drink water so your private urinal would be empty, sir.”

“I expected no less from you, dog,” I replied, downing the beer in two gulps and then ordering another, which I also drank quickly. I took my slave’s beer and spat into it several times before handing it back to him. “Swallow the globs of spit you catch with just two sips. Then go to the bathroom and lock yourself in the toilet. When I knock, I’ll come in, you put my cock in your mouth and drink everything quickly. You leave first and then I leave. Understood?”

“Understood, master,” he answered, taking two short sips from his glass, sucking up most of my spit, then heading to the bathroom. I went down the stairs, knocked on the door, and seated on the toilet, he thirstily swallowed my first piss. He left, I left, and we went to another place.

“Ready for the second one, whore?” I asked.

“Of course, sir, always ready for you,” he replied in his English accent.

The next bar was in Callao, and there I drank two more beers. I ordered him to wait for me in the bathroom, but when I was about to go in, Josh came out telling me there was no lock and it was full of people.

“No problem, wait for me upstairs and I’ll come now.”

I drank what was left of the beer in the glass I had in my hand and went into the restroom just as some guy came out of the toilet. I went in next and, leaning against the door so no one could enter, I took out my cock and released my piss into the glass, stopping with effort when it was almost full. I returned to our table, giving my slave the “beer,” and ordered another for myself at the bar. When I came back, I looked at him with a smile and raised my beer…

“Cheers!”

Josh smiled back, clinking glasses with me, and drank it in small sips, savoring it, saying to me between sip and sip:

“I know you love ice-cold beer, but I prefer it nice and warm… I suppose it’s because I’m English,” he said, winking at me as he drank his last sip.

To be continued…