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Helen # 013
by Paladin
Mark had never spent a more miserable time in his young life.
He was where Helen left him. He stayed mostly in the bar's mens
room. You could find him mostly, chained up over the forth urinal.
When Helen first left, he had tried to protest but the crushing
of his balls between a combat boot and his pubic bone, easily
convinced him to be a good boy and go with the majority rule.
(Yes 'piss head' found the path of least resistance!)
Now, after many days .. (or was it years??) he would docilely
opened his mouth wide when a bar patron arrived in front of him.
The vile smelling liquid that was spewed into his oral orifice
he would meekly accept.
This was the routine every time a customer visited the pisser.
His normally perfect dentures now had one gaping hole..
(One time, when he had closed his teeth too fast, and
accidentally touched one of his teeth on the mans dick. The man
would not accept his most abject apology!)
The man returned with a pair of rusty pliers and a few friends to
help / watch.
They wrenched Marks mouth wide open. Wedged it that way, and
proceeded to slowly extract a front tooth.
Needless to say Mark NEVER AGAIN closed his teeth when a dick,
any dick, was anywhere near in the vaccinate.
His open mouth was viewed as egarness when it really wasn't.
Whenever Mark's own dick needed to drain , he had to beg a
passing pisser to take the end of the catheter tube, from it's
place hooked over his gums, and place it, over in urinal #3 then
open the clamp to let his own enriched urine drain away.
The next pisser usually replaced the tube back in his mouth and
clamped it. That way the floor did not get too dirty during the
hours that Mark 'worked' as the official piss drinker.
(This was the normal work day that Mark endured. Working hours
were from 8AM till 12PM.)
The bar did not lack allow it's star attraction to neglect his
night life!
Mark had had a total lack of employment, in the past but his
social calendar was usually full.
The management of the bar looked out for it's people.
Almost every night the boys stayed after closing and placed
Mark face down on a table. They spread his legs and proceeded
to try to pleasure the jaded young man, at both ends.
Mark did not seem to take to this.
So for variety, from then on he was placed face up for each
other night. Then he could appreciate his fucker sometimes
face to face.
Mark did not like this either. (No pleasing some people.)
Mark became a great attraction in town. Men came from miles
around to see and experience the thrill of using the bars'
Urinal #4.
Why a group of dykes even came in and demanded service.
(The chains had to be lengthened to accommodate them, but
business was business.)
Aware of his growing revenue from this, Morice, the owner,
hired Quincy, the tattoo artist to dedicate the attraction.
Mark observed the large man arrive in front of him and
wearily opened his mouth.
Quincy smiled and placed his tool box right there.
He availed himself of the facilities, and then went about
setting up his tools.
Morice, awair of the time that Quincy took setting up
stayed outside and placed a sign on the men's room door,
"TEMPERARILY OUT OF ORDER"
"USE THE LADIES FOR NOW"
Quency didn't say a word to Mark till he had all his shit
laid out.
With two large "C" clamps in hand he demanded,
"SMILE AND LET ME SEE WHAT I HAS TO WORK WITH!"
Mark panicked and tried to plead out but Quency managed
to place one "C" clamp in each side of Mark's lower lip.
Understandably, from the weight of the clamps this caused
the front lower lips to droop exposing a canvas of nice
moist pink skin.
Quency gauged the area available and the left the room
to consult Morice.
"I can do it if you don't mind half inch skinny letters."
Quency informed Morice.
"That's all?? Half an inch, I mean that isn't hardly
nothing." Morice retorted.
"Look it ain't a large canvas. You want more I gotta
stretch the suckers and inject collagen and stretch
and.." Quincy answered.
"NAAA your trying to make a big work of art here. I just
want a dedication of the pisser.." Morice answered, "Do
it the best ya can, but make um deep black in color. His
owner 'll like that.."
"Ok, now I need a few holders. This boy 'll freak out
when I start and I don't want to ruin the canvas."
Quency demanded of the bar flys available.
The curious all volunteered and followed the tattoo artist
into the room.
Mark looked up warily. The clamps hurt with any sudden
movement but he tried to keep the group in his sight as
they gathered around his 'work place'.
"You force the forehead back.'
"You two each take an ear! And try not to tear it off but
keep him still."
Quency ordered his volunteers.
Mark did not know what was coming but he reasoned that it
would not be a pleasant thing so he tried to shake his
holders off.
But Quincy was experienced with reluctant twitching clients.
So despite Marks attempts at movement, Quincy got the
desired calligraphy on the turned down, reluctant, lower lip
done, and in a timely fashion.
But by that time, all the participants were sweating and tired,
so a free beer brake was called by Morice for the artist and
his helpers. Mark now worked on for piss is aseptic.
The last line of the inscription, which Mark would wear for the
rest of his life was clearly legible in bright black letters,
on the soft moist lower lip meat. If Mark was induced to open
up and display it read ...
"SELF FLUSHING"
In about half an hour, a refreshed artist and helpers again
advanced on a weary sweating urinal #4, (Mark).
This time the "C" clamps were shifted to Marks upper lip. It
was curled back, secured, and again the tattoo gun whirred.
Marks attempt to resist were much enfeebled this time and so
the task went much quicker.
In about an hour, this time, the artist proclaimed it done.
Morice, the bar owner and Sam, the bartended came back to
view the finished script.
Quency proudly showed off the now finished inner upper lip.
It proclaimed ...
"URINAL #4"
This pleased Morice very much.
Now whenever a patron came in to use the facilities they would
be treated to the tattooed placard on Marks inner lips, as a
piercing was then done and it was an easy matter to wedge a
stick in the rings holding Marks lips open for all to see.
Business in the establishment increased, for no other bar had
so famous a urinal, and it was self flushing too.
As in the past men brought their dates, both male and female
to view and use poor Mark.
He may have been a wastrel before, but here and now he served
a useful, if smelly function.
The compliments on the artwork, and the clamor for more was
met by Morice in a typical owner fashion.
A pair of mugs were placed on the bar.
Into the first mug donations for new art work to 'spice' up
their favorite urinal went.
Into the second bits of paper were kept describing the type
of 'art' to be inscribed on Urinal #4.
Quincy was summoned the next day.
It seems their were an overwhelming number of request for a
stylized 'Dog fucking Man' tattoo on Mark's dick was desired.
(The result of a female patron who had seen one in a past lover.)
Mark was not really consulted. He even cried at the very sight of
Quincy unloading his tools for another session.
This time Quency had to pierce the organ being worked on to hold
it stretched out for the new creative work.
The opinion was that the pierced foreskin added something to the
overall effect and so a pound weight was affixed to the hole.
The weight kept Mark's appendage in a permanent stretched down
cast direction. (The art was better displayed this way!)
(Also before Mark had been known to rise to the occasion, when
he had been called upon to servicing the needs of some of the
ladies. Now that would not happen .. ever ..)
Marks decorations and piercings grew and grew.
Seems like the bar patrons considered him their art project
in progress.
Mark now had tattoo on both pecks, ass cheeks, forehead, and
well you can imagine .. all over.
Tiring of the colored inks the patrons decided that piercing
should be added, so Mark began to be festooned with rings,
posts, etc..
Suddenly all the festivities came to an end!
Helen sauntered into the bar. After a fit of laughter she
wanted to reclaimed the boy for her new downstairs maid.
Mark cried at the sight or the tall powerful black woman
who, he now realized, could save him.
When Mark was detached from the under laying urinal, he
gladly crawled to the black womans feet.
As he could not stand, he crawled out to the bar door,
with the weight still swinging on his dick foreskin.
but the patrons rebelled.
They had to have their Urinal!
Helen debated calling for a paddy wagon to get the boy
home, but when a collection was taken up, she decided
to accept a rental agreement for the boy.
It was month to month so that if the patrons got tired
Morice could call her and Helen would remove the fixture.
So with tears in his eyes Mark was lead back to his
position in the mens room.
More later...
