Date: Mon, 16 Jun 2014 17:27:07 +0000
From: white collar <white_collar@hotmail.com>
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker part 9

Author:  white collar
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker (Oral, anal, forced)
Date:  2014

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Chapter 15

Vince left and Master ordered me to go to the bathroom and kneel on the floor.
The permanent cage felt strange, surrounding my cock, I mean my dick (men
have cocks – faggots have dicks – Master had explained that to me several
times).  It left it open to the air but utterly shut off from touch, except with
implements that could fit between the bars of the cage.  But it was very light, so
what told me it was there was the lack of freedom my dick had, no longer able to
swing free.  Not that a dick the size of mine does much swinging.  I used to enjoy
it when I'd walk around the house, either before or after sex with Elaine, and my
six inches would proceed me, hard and full.  But those days were gone.

Elaine had told me in no uncertain terms that she no longer had any interest in
my sexually.  It was apparent that my sexual pleasure, if indeed I were to ever
have any, would be found in being used and abused by men.  What chagrined me
was that I was discovering that I enjoyed it.  The cage kept me from getting hard,
but a thrill ran up and down my spine when Master would touch me, whether
gently or roughly; I didn't care, so long as he touched me.  I realized I was
hungering for his touch in whatever form he gave it.  And I was beginning to
long for the rough; it was so much more satisfying.  It reminded me that I had a
purpose and could provide pleasure to him.

I knelt on the cold tile as Master had ordered and waited.  I couldn't help myself,
I suppose, but my hand wandered to my caged dick.  There it was, where it had
always been, but now completely unavailable to me.  The sensation was messing
with my mind in a major way, because it felt right somehow.  I am a faggot –
there, I've said it.  I'm a faggot and I don't deserve to play with my dick.  My
dick has no purpose except whatever a man enjoys doing with it and, of course,
peeing.  I'd obviously have to continue to sit to pee, but I was becoming quite
accustomed to that.  That, also, somehow, seemed right.  A man stands to piss; a
faggot sits to pee, not like a girl or a woman, but like a faggot.

I heard Master's footsteps coming toward the bathroom, but not soon enough.
He caught me with my hand on my cage.

"Well, well, faggot," he chuckled.  "How do you like your new cage?  Does it
feel good?"

"Yes sir," I answered, hanging my head and dropping my hands to my side.
Then I remembered what was proper, and clasped my hands behind my back.

"Good boi.  That's better.  Now, let's get you set for the rest of the day, shall
we?", obviously not expecting an answer.

"First, the cups," he said squeezing my pumped nips hard, causing me to groan
with pleasure in the back of my throat.  Surprising how quickly I'd developed a
major pleasure center in my tits.

He pulled the cups off, being careful not to spill the fluid oozing out of my tits'
pores and dumped the fluid in the toilet.

"I have plans for some of my other employees and I don't want to give all my
secrets away, like how I'm growing your tits," he said, grinning.

My nips had pretty-well filled the cups he's had me wearing for the last week, so
now they poked out about 3/8" from my chest.  I wondered how much more he
would be doing in the future?  I remembered seeing photos in the slide-show he'd
displayed for me while I was strung-up in the closet, of men with tits protruding
an inch from their chests – long and as thick as my pinky finger.  Would I
develop tits like that?

Next, Master produced a pair of handcuffs and cuffed my wrists together behind
my back.  Then he brought out an unusual plastic device that I'd never seen
before and had no idea what's it's purpose might be.  From where I was kneeling,
it looked like some sort of shallow dish with raised sides, but made out of black
plastic with a strap fastened to it.

"Open," he ordered.

I did so and he inserted a wide tube into my mouth.  The tube was attached to the
dish and in a second, he slide the dish up to my jaws.  The tube led from the
bottom of the dish into my mouth.  There was a cutout in the back so that it fit
against my mouth and under my nose, helping to insure that dish remained stable.
Then he fastned the straps in place behind my head.
(www.forttroff.com/61015_gallery?pcat=GAGS)  The purpose suddenly dawned
on me: this was a urinal gag.  I was to be his urinal for the day!

Next Master took out a catheter.  If it hadn't been for a surgery I'd undergone, I
would probably not have recognized it, but I knew it immediately.  I began to
moan and squirm, dreading the insertion.  When I'd had my surgery, they'd
catheterized me after putting me out, so I had no idea how it felt, but every man, I
think (or even every faggot), goes queasy at the idea of having something stuck
up his penis.

"Don't worry faggot, you'll hardly feel a thing."

Master lubed the end of the cath and, navigating the bars of the cage, found my
urethra.  Then he pushed it in.  He was right; it wasn't all that bad.  He pushed
until a little bit of urine came out the end.  Quikcly, he clipped the end and then
took a syringe with fluid in it and injected it into a port that was attached to the
tubing.

"This is a Foley catheter.  I'm inflating the balloon so it'll stay inside you,"
Master said.

Then he took the end of the tube coming out of my dick and shoved it over a
small nozzle on the side of the gag and removed the clip.

"There.  Now you won't have to worry about pissing.  When it gets to your
bladder, it'll just come through the catheter and up the tube and you'll be
recycling your own piss," he said, gently slapping the side of my head.

Master then produced a very wide leather collar from the cabinet under the sink
and buckled it around my neck.  The collar made it impossible to lower my chin.

"A posture collar," he said.  It will keep your head up so you don't spill onto the
floor.  You will kneel beside the toilet today.  If I need to take a shit, don't worry:
I'll use the toilet.  But when I need to piss, you will take care of that for me.  Oh,
and I'll be holding a couple of meetings today, as you might be aware, since you
used to attend some of those meetings in the past.  Of course, that was before you
assumed your new position.  And you'll be attending today, but you'll be in here
and no one will be asking for your input.  You'll just be receiving a lot!"

Master laughed as he taped a sign on the wall next to me.  It said simply "Please
use the urinal" with an arrow pointing down.

"As you might remember, during my meetings, I prefer not to have the people
attending leaving to go to the restroom.  They just slip in here, do their business
and that's that.  So you'll be seeing some of your former co-workers from a
different angle.  And they'll certainly be seeing you in a new light.  I just might
ask you if there are any whose cocks you think you'd enjoy sucking.  Not that I
care whether you'll enjoy it or not; that's beside the point.

"But it's nice to know what you think of the cocks and dicks you'll be seeing.
And yes, some will be cocks and some will be dicks.  Those with dicks instead of
cocks, I have plans for, just like I had plans for you.  Who knows?  Maybe one
day, we'll have a line of urinals in the executive washroom.  And some of those
urinals will be former executives!"

"I guess I might as well get you primed.  I drank too much coffee this morning
and this will help jump-start your own bladder."

He unzipped, pulled out his thick cock and stood with it hanging over the bowl in
front of my mouth.  In a few seconds, he gave a couple of squirts and then began
to flow.  The piss was yellow and tasted gross, but I had no choice and began to
swallow as fast as I could, because I knew that if I didn't, I'd really regret it.

"Good toilet," he said, laughing and slapping my face with his cock.

He continued laughing as he left the bathroom.  By this time, I knew I was
flushing scarlet from head to toe.  Not only was my humiliation being
consumated, but he had plans for others as well.  How soon would I be joined by
other former men who were going to be converted into cock-suckers?

Chapter 16.

I knelt there several minutes and then heard the door to Master's office open and
people began coming in and, from what I could hear, gathering around his
meeting table.  Yes, I was quite familiar with these meetings.  In fact, as I recall,
it was during one of them, when I was terribly bored, that I began to formulate
my scheme for siphoning off a little extra cash for my own benefit.  Finally,
Master called the meeting to order.

"OK, gentlemen, let's get started.  I just want to say, before we start, that you all
know I prefer to keep restroom breaks to a minimum, so, as always, you can use
my restroom.  Just be aware that you'll find a new fixture in there.  Don't worry
about it.  Feel free do to do what you need to do.  OK?

There was a murmur of assent around the table.

"Good.  Paul, I think you're first up.  You all have copies of his deck.  Let's get
going."

I heard Paul Getty, a good-looking man I'd worked with for several years, going
through his presentation.  It was well-done.  He wrapped up, asked for questions
and received thanks from Master.

"Thanks Greg," Paul said.  "I'll be back in a minuted.  All that coffee, you
know," he laughed.

I could hear his footsteps crossing the room toward the bathroom and every
muscle went taut.  Paul was about to discover the "new fixture" and, after that, I
was sure, word would spread and I'd be receiving a lot of visitors.  Paul entered
the room without really observing anything and close the door behind himself.
Then he turned toward the toilet, where I was kneeling.  His eyebrows shot up.
his eyes got big and his mouth fell open.

"My god," he said. "I'd heard Greg had you on a special assignment, but never
imagined this was it.  I'd heard some whispering around the office, but never
thought it was true.  I guess you must've really fucked up to end up in this state.
He must have something pretty heavy to hold over you."

He stood and stared down at me for a moment.  He reached out his hand and felt
the apparatus in my mouth and realized there was no way I could respond to him.
He just stood there staring at me.  Then finally,

"Well, whatever it is, I'm not going to question him.  And I need to piss, so I'd
better follow instructions," he said pointing at the sign.

He unzipped, pulled out his cock and stood in front of me.  His eyes met mine
and he seemed to be having trouble getting started, which I could well
understand.  Here was a co-worker, naked, kneeling with a urinal dish in his
mouth and here he was, getting ready to piss in that dish.  And my eyes were on
him.  I understand that, for some men, they're pee-shy and have a hard time
pissing when they feel they're being watched.  I suddenly realized that it wasn't
my place to be looking at him and making him nervous, so I dropped my eyes
and focused on his dick.  Poking through the slit in his briefs were whisps of
reddish pubic hair.  His left hand bore a wedding band which I'd never noticed
before.  I guess I'd always assumed he was married, but seeing the gold at close-
range brought that fact home for me.  I could also see, since I could see little else,
that his fingers were strong with neatly trimmed nails.  They were a man's hands.

After about half a minute, he pushed out a squirt, then another and then it began
to flow.  The hot piss began to flow into my mouth and I hurried to swallow it so
as to not have a back-up and spill on the floor.  I knew I'd pay for that dearly if it
happened.

I realized Paul wasn't very big.  As Master might have put it, more of a dick than
a cock.  Oh, he was, as I said, a good-looking man: about 6'1", trim build, auburn
hair and green eyes and handsome features.  But size, in terms of genitals, was
not his strong suit.  He was about three inches when he pulled out, but I noticed
that, as he pissed, he was beginning to stiffen.  He was probably about 6 inches
when erect.  After shaking the last drops off his dick, he tucked himself back
inside his pants and zipped up.  He smiled, somewhat apologetically I thought,
and reached out to gently touch my cheek.  That gestures made me raise my eyes
to look into his face.  There was an uncanny look of, what was it?  Desire?
Hunger?  Shame?  His eyes were wide with disbelief.  He didn't say a word, but
turned to wash his hands and left the room, partially closing the door behind
himself.

I heard Master addressing a remark to him as he returned to the table, but didn't
hear his reply.  Then Master said something else and, in a short time, another of
my former co-workers entered the room.  This was Aiden, a tall, blond man in his
30s, I'd guess.  I'd never liked Aiden; he always struck me as arrogant and
careless of the concerns of others.  I saw his eyes open wide in disbelief when he
entered the room and then he laughed a low laught.

"I think you've finally found the right position in this company Wayne; it suits
you.  But I can see you have nothing to say, so let me take care of business and
get back to the meeting."

Aiden unzipped and pulled out his cock, and it was a cock: eight inches in length,
soft and thick.  It was beginning to stiffen as he opened his fly.  He held it in his
hand and hit my cheeks with it.  Then he held it over the bowl of my gag and
commenced pissing.  No hesitation here; he was ready to go.  And his bladder
was full.  I had to swallow rapidly to keep up with him.  Finally, he finished and
shook his cock to get the last drops off.

"What the hell," he said, and taking a squirt from the bottle of hand lotion on the
back of the toilet beside which I was kneeling, he began to wank.  He was
already hard by the time he'd finished pissing, so it didn't take him long.  About
twenty pulls and he came with a stifled gasp, throwing his head back and
shooting all over my face.  The cum went into my eyes and spilled onto my
forehead and dripped down my face.  I flushed with shame.  Not only had he
pissed down my gullet but now he was covering my face with jism.

"Faggot" was all I could think.  "Faggot, faggot, faggot."

Aiden left the room and suddenly I was aware that the piss that I'd ingested had
made its way through my system and was draining into my bladder; my
catheterized bladder.  And the piss was flowing through the catheter and up into
the dish.  I glanced down and saw the piss pulsing out of the small opening on the
side of the urinal and from there, of course, into my mouth.  I was literally a piss
recylcling creature: a piss faggot.  Again, I flushed with shame and humiliation.

Several other men came in and contributed to the load of piss in my belly and the
load of humiliation in my heart and mind.  By the end of the meeting, I was
convinced I was nothing but a faggot and fit for only one thing: to be humiliated
and used by men.


To be continued