Date: Mon, 25 Apr 2016 14:45:00 +0000
From: white collar <white_collar@hotmail.com>
Subject: Converted to cock-f 25sucker (Oral, anal, forced, humiliation)

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http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep these great stories coming.

I need to say this: Note that this is fantasy, not real life.  If you are a
sub, you still have dignity and you should have a voice.  It takes courage
to admit that you're submissive and need a man's domination.  If you are
involved in a BDSM scene, the sub has the right to set limits and to have a
safe-word to immediately put a stop to the proceedings if it turns out to
be too much.  If the dom/sado won't recognize your rights as a sub, my
suggestion is to say "thanks for your time, sir," and walk away.  This is
sexual role-play and is supposed to be consensual.  Non-consensual is
assault and is a criminal act and I do not espouse assault or criminality.

Any comments will be gladly received at white_collar@hotmail.com


Chapter 43

Fag 4:

Fag 3 cried for a while.  Of course, like the rest of us, he had a penis
gag in his mouth, so I knew he was crying mostly from his vocalizations and
his sniffling.  It seemed that Master had succeeded in putting the fear of
god into him and convinced him, finally, that resistance, was, as "The
Borg" says, futile.

As I hung there, I thought how far I'd traveled since this morning, when
I'd walked into the office, a seemingly confident, competent man.  Now, I
was hanging in a cage with three others, three faggots.  I now knew that I
was a faggot and not a man; that I'd only ever pretended to be a man.  Four
faggots in all, hanging in identical cages, almost indistinguishable one
from the next.  This, I realized, was part of the induction, the
incorporation into Master's stable: take away distinguishing features like
clothing and body hair and a faggot becomes just that: a faggot.  Good for
sucking cock; good for getting fucked, good for pinching his tits to make
either of his fuck holes tighten around a man-cock.  Good for making a man
happy.

I was still aware of the weight and girth in my rectum, reminding me what
that hole was now to be used for.  And the suction on my nipples, my
titties, as Master called them, even now, beginning to alter my body to
make it more pleasing to men; to Master in particular.  Eventually, though,
I slept, though I didn't sleep well.  Standing upright, even when you could
let your body sag against the cage, is not the best position for sleep.
And I won't mention being severely confined.  A couple of times during the
night, I awoke with a start and tried to move and the panic rose; I was
trapped!  I couldn't move.  I had to remind myself where I was and calm
myself.  I thought I heard one or two of my fellow-faggots stirring as
well, and I felt sympathy for them.

Finally, morning came.  Master came into the room, followed by Aiden and
Vinnie.  Vinnie?  Why was Vinnie here?  I'd gathered that the next time I
saw Vinnie it would be for our piercings.  But, it wasn't my issue.  I was
beginning to understand that it wasn't my place any longer to ask questions
or get answers; my place was to do as I was told.  They unlocked the cages
and helped us out.  We all collapsed to the floor from having slept so
fitfully, along with the stiffness in our legs.

"Get over to the basin, faggots," ordered Master, pointing toward the tiled
area with the curb that was designed to contain the water.

We crawled across the floor, not so much because what Master wanted to see
was his faggots crawling, but because none of us was capable of standing at
that point.

"Line up facing the wall; feet against the curb."

We obeyed, huddling together for camaraderie and warmth.  Then Master and
Aiden stood on the curb.  I heard them pull their zippers down and felt the
hot streams of piss on my butt, my back and my head.  I arched my back at
the pleasure of the heat and hung my head at the shame of being pissed on.
So many of the catch-phrases depicting degradation: pissed on, fucked,
screwed.  We were being subjected to these things and I, perhaps alone
among my fellow fags, was enjoying it.  Yes, I was enjoying being
humiliated and degraded.  As we fags were being pissed on by our Master and
his henchman, as I was now thinking of Aiden, I glanced back and saw that
Aiden's cock was fully erect; he was really getting off on the humiliation.
Then I looked up and saw a look in his eyes that confused me: it wasn't so
much the look of domination as desire; I can't explain it.  But there was
something in him I'd not noticed before.  Oh well, again, not my problem.
Master had given me a new role in life and I was still accommodating
myself, my brain, to it.

They shook the last of their piss onto us and Master ordered us to crawl to
the nearby raised shelf and mount it, again, facing the wall.  We lined up,
four faggot holes, waiting for whatever was to be done to us.  Master and
Aiden stood behind us; I felt Master's hand on my ass and then he ordered
me to push the plug out.  I bore down and felt the now-hot metal cylinder
spread my sphincter as I pushed it out.  As soon as it was gone, I felt
empty.  I didn't want to feel empty!  I needed to be filled and soon!  How
had I missed this all these years?  How, at the age of 41, was I
discovering what I had needed but never gotten?  My hole expanded and
contracted, seeking something to enter it and possess it; possess me,
possess my faggot hole.

Master and Aiden placed plates between our legs, for what purpose, I had no
clue.  Then, in a moment, there was pressure against my pucker and I
greedily sucked it in.  It was another cylinder, but this one was
continuous, so that, where the plug I'd had in me all night had allowed my
rosebud to close, this one kept it open.  Then, it began to vibrate.

"Milking time, faggots," Master said, slapping each of our asses.  "It's
been longer for the first three of you since your last emissions, but I
want to have you all on the same schedule.  No point it having to keep
track of milkings for four faggots.  Just like a dairy, you'll all have a
standard milking time, but for faggots, it's once a week, rather than twice
daily."

The level of my arousal was already quite high.  I'd come to realize that
humiliation pushed my sexual buttons big time, and I'd gotten humiliation
in spades since submitting to Master.  My fellow faggots?  Well, I don't
know.  But I heard them groaning and felt those on either side of me moving
their hips as the vibrators tweaked their g-buttons.  And for them, it had
probably been a while since they'd been permitted to ejaculate, so they
were physically ready, even if their heads weren't where mine was.  I could
just imagine the view that Master and Aiden had: four smooth asses in a
row, each with the bottom of a vibrator protruding from their hole.

We were all grunting and moaning, our assess clenching on the vibrators.
Then we began, almost in unison, to gasp and yell.  In a few moments, the
air filled with our orgasmic cries.  I had never experienced an ass orgasm.
Here was my dick, caged and beyond stimulation, but it was shooting cum,
and all from anal stimulation.  And the orgasm was more intense and
prolonged than any I'd had from wanking.  It was mind-blowing.

"Milk them, Aiden.  Like this."

I felt Master's hand pressing against my perineum and pushing from my
asshole to the base of my dick, as though he were squeezing the toothpaste
out of a tube, while he moved the vibrator against my prostate.  Shivers of
pleasure ran up my spine and more cum dripped from my flaccid dick and onto
the plate.  Then Master removed the vibrator and spanked my butt.  Each of
us fags got the same treatment.  Then Master and Aiden collected the plates
and deposited our "offerings" into a jar.

"I like to add it to my coffee at night.  A nice reminder of my property,"
Master laughed.  "Aiden, get a full set of shackles from the cupboard
there.  That's a good man.  Faggots, gather around."

Aiden went across the room and Master gathered us faggots into a huddle.
Master whispered conspiratorially.

"I'm going to give Aiden what I know he's been wanting all along.  I
suspect he just can't say it, like you did fag," he said, looking at me.
"So when I say 'now', I want you all to grab him.  You two fags grab his
arms; you two his feet and pull him down to the floor, face down.  I'll put
the shackles on him and then I want you to take him over to the
St. Andrew's and fasten him to it, facing the wall.  Got it, fags?"

We all nodded and glanced at Aiden, who was coming back across the room.  I
suspect the other fags may have held something against Aiden, because I
suspect he was involved in their enslavement.  Me?  Well, I didn't really
care.  I didn't have anything against the man; he was just another of
Master's confidants, or so I had thought.  And I had never been ambitious
enough to care who had the boss's ear.  It could've been Aiden or Jesus
Christ, as far as I was concerned.  But I would never question Master's
orders, so I readied myself as Aiden drew closer.

"Ah, Aiden," said Master, taking the proffered shackles.  "Good boy."

Aiden looked quizzically at Master, as he handed the shackles over.

"Now, faggots!" Master shouted.

Aiden's face showed complete surprise and when we lunged for him, he tried
to turn and run.  But his feet got twisted and he fell to the floor,
scrambling to get away.  But we were on our feet, we were prepared and we
knew what the plan was.  So we were on him in seconds.  Fags 1 and 3 held
his wrists and fag 2 and I grabbed his ankles.

"No, no, no," he cried.  "Please, don't."

Master quickly buckled the shackles on his wrists and ankles.  During the
struggle, Aiden's shoes had been pulled off or had come off, so the
shackles were buckled over his white socks.

"OK, fags, take him to the cross."

We stood and dragged the struggling Aiden across the floor to the
St. Andrew's and lifted him up, fastening his limbs to the eye-bolts in the
cross.

Chapter 44

Aiden was looking over his shoulder at Master, who stood there with a
cutting device: the kind with a protected blade that you slip through cloth
to cut it, as opposed to scissors.

"Why?" he pleaded.  "Please Greg, don't do this to me."

"Oh come on Aiden!  I've seen how excited you get doing this to the other
fags.  What I came to realize was that you weren't excited from a dom's
point of view, but it was vicarious; you wanted someone to do this to you:
I saw the hunger in your eyes.  So I decided to give you what you want;
what you need!  I'm going to turn you into a faggot, just like these.  Of
course, no one will know it, unless they were to watch us very closely in
the office.  You'll continue to do you job in the excellent manner you
always have, I'm sure.  But behind closed doors, and after hours, you're
going to be just another one of my faggots.  Welcome aboard fag!"

Master walked up to Aiden and slid the cutting devise through his clothing,
starting with his pant legs.  He slid the device up one leg to the waist
band and then came down the other leg.  In less that a minute, Aiden's
pants lay shredded on the floor.  Master sliced through the waistband of
his briefs and then ripped them down the middle.  He sliced through the leg
bands and Aiden's tightie-whities dropped to the floor.  Next came Aiden's
shirt: shwoot, shwoot, shwoot.  And Aiden was now naked.

Next, Master went to the cupboard and returned with clover clamps dangling
from his back pocket and a wide leather strop hanging from his belt.  He
moved up behind Aiden and wrapped his arms around the soon-to-be fag and
grabbed his tits.

"You (pinch) and I (pinch) both know you've (pinch) wanted this (pinch).
You're going to love(pinch) becoming one of my fags (pinch) and serving me
(pinch)."

Aiden was groaning with each pinch of his nipples.  Master thrust his
pants-shrouded cock, now hard and urgent, against Aiden's ass.  Aiden
pushed back against him and ground his cheeks against the promised reward.

"So, let's begin your degradation (pinch).  You are no longer a man
(pinch); you're now a faggot (pinch)."

Aiden cried out as Master grasped his nipples and twisted hard.  Master
took the clamps and applied them to Aiden's not-yet-developed tits.  Then
he pulled, first down and then up.

"Take the chain between your teeth faggot," Master ordered.  "Don't you
dare drop it!"

Aiden had seen Master in action enough to know that he'd better hold onto
that chain for dear life because there'd be hell to pay if he was unable to
do so.  Master stepped back, took the strop in his hand and laid two hard
strokes against Aiden's ass cheeks, which turned bright pink.  Then Master
began to methodically strop Aiden, bringing up bright stripes on his ass
and then moving up his back and back down.  Aiden tilted his head back and
cried out with each blow, but keeping that infernal chain between his
teeth.  This necessitated throwing his head back so prevent it falling out
with each cry, which, in turn, yanked on his clamped nipples, doubling his
torture.

The stropping went on for 10 minutes; to Aiden, it must've seemed an
eternity.  At some point during the beating he pulled so hard on the chain
that he pulled the clamps off his tits, yet another sharp point of pain.
But he kept the chain between his teeth.  Soon his cries turned to pleas.

"Please, Master, no more.  Please!  Please!  No more, please!"

Master put the strop back on his belt and approached Aiden, pulling himself
against Aiden's bright red back and ass, causing him to cry out in pain.

"What are you boy," Master asked.

"I'm a faggot sir."

"Whose faggot are you, faggot?"

"I'm your faggot sir.  Please sir, no more!"

"What were you before?  What were you yesterday?"

Aiden hesitated, not understanding the question.

"I was? a, a man sir."

Master pulled himself against the hot flesh more strongly, making the
faggot cry out.

"No, faggot.  You were not a man.  You were a faggot.  You have always been
a faggot, but refused or were unable to confess that and accept it.  Now
confess it and accept it.  What were you before?"

"I was? a faggot sir."

"Good boy.  Tell it all to me.  How long have you been a faggot?"

"I was always a faggot sir," said the new faggot, now getting what his
Master was driving home to his faggot brain.  "I was always a faggot, but I
pretended to be a man.  I even pretended to myself because I couldn't
accept that I was a faggot.  I'm a faggot sir.  I'm your faggot!"

"Good faggot," Master said, releasing him.  "Good.  Now we'll complete your
conversion."

The faggot sagged against his restraints, his spirit now broken; broken
into the submission he'd always known was to be his lot in life.


Chapter 45

"Take him down fags.  Release your brother, fag #5, and fasten him to the
eye-hooks in the shower area.  We need to complete his induction into
faggothood."

The faggots unhooked fag #5 and half carried, half dragged him to the
shower area.  They attached him to the eye-hooks there, spread-eagle.

"Fags 1 and 2, shave fag 5's body.  I want him smooth as the rest of you.
I will visually and tactilely inspect him and if I find any stubble
whatsoever, you will all be punished.  Do you understand faggots?"

"Yes sir," all the faggots replied in unison.

Fags 1 and 2 took electric clippers and took fag 5's outer display of
manhood.  They started with his armpits and the faggot's eyes brimmed with
tears as the clippers emasculated him.  Master had observed that this was
an almost universal response to being shaved: Men treasure their body hair;
it displays their masculinity for everyone to see.  When you have body
hair, there's no question of your virility.  Take that away from a man and
you turn him into a faggot; something less than a man.

The faggots finished removing the new faggot's pit hair and went to his
chest, taking it in wide swathes.  Fag 5 hung his head and watched his
chest hair drift to the floor.  His tears fell with it, mixing into a
hairy, wet mess.  Finishing with his chest, they took his pubes, the
ultimate in emasculation.

When they'd finished trimming him, they took out shaving foam and razors
and proceeded to carefully shave his body, making sure not to nick him, nor
to miss any square centimeter of his skin.  They completed the job, taking
about half-an-hour to shave him entirely and then rinsed him down with a
shower hose.  His skin glistened and betrayed no remnant of the luxuriant
coat he'd previously borne.

Master approached him, looking him over carefully.  Then he used his hands
to inspect the fag's body, nodding his approval.

"You even got his ass clean; very impressive faggots.  As a reward, I'll
let each of you suck me off tomorrow.  Now, release him and take him to the
table.  Hold him there."

The four faggots unhooked fag 5 from the eye-hooks and took him to the
table, as Master had indicated.  They laid him upon it, each holding a
limb, spread-eagling him.

"Vinnie!  Your turn now," Master said, grinning at the man.  "Take his dick
and balls away."

Vinnie went to work on the fag, installing the same cage as was on the
Master's other fags.  When he'd finished, Master ordered his first four
fags to stand their new brother up.  Once on his feet, fag 5 hung his head
and tried to cover his crotch.

"Stand up fags!  Get in a row, feet spread, hands behind your heads, heads
bowed.  Show proper obeisance to your Master!  Vinnie, would you help me
out here?"

Master produced five of the bullet-shaped butt plugs, called "The world's
most comfortable"
(http://www.mr-s-leather.com/D259/world-s-most-comfortable-butt-plug.html).
He and Vinnie applied lube to the plugs and inserted one into each faggot's
pussy.  Each faggot knew what to do, first bearing down to permit the plug
an easy entrance, and then clenching his sphincter to pull the plug all the
way in.  Each of the fags, including the newest fag, had a look of pleasure
cross their faces as that need to be filled was satisfied.

The fags lined up, standing as directed.  Master smiled as he looked over
his stable.  Five fags, cages on their dicks and balls, bodies completely
smooth, nipples developed.  It was quite a sight; one that he would enjoy
feasting his eyes on for a long time.  He would be continuing to train all
their holes, front and rear, to take his cock and the cocks of his friends.
He guessed that fag 5 was a virgin in that sense, so taking his cherry and
stretching his hole would be fun.  Training him to deep-throat a man's cock
would also be a pleasure; how he loved the sound of a faggot gagging and
choking on a man's cock as he was face-fucked to the balls.  A fag needed
to learn to love the smell of a man's bush, especially knowing that he, the
fag, no longer had a bush and would never have one again.  Cock-suckers
didn't get to, or deserve to have bushes, or choices or rights.  The only
adornment on a fag's pubes would be a tattooed "fag" or "slave", depending
on the Master's mood at the time.  A fag's sole purpose was to please men,
to be a faggot cock-sucker and fuck toy.  And all these faggots who had
once thought themselves men been converted to cock-suckers.

The end.