Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2008 12:20:42 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Smith <enslaved2str8@yahoo.com>
Subject: Enslaving Jason -- Chapter 2

ENSLAVING JASON -- CHAPTER 2

By Pete Smith

Jason was a young faggot who had read one of my stories and wrote to me
that he wanted to be my slave.  Well, men, my experiences with faggots
writing to me based on my stories have not been very satisfying.  Most of
these queers seem to end up being flakes or frauds of one sort or another.
Maybe it's just the kind of person who reads authoritarian stories, or
maybe it's in the nature of faggots to be flakey.  In any case, I've
learned to take such e-mails with a grain of salt and not waste much time
on them.

I'm much more confident of finding a slave with real potential through
face-to-face encounters.  Before the faggot-shit Jason, I had met my two
bottoms through casual encounters.  One faggot was a handsome young man I
knew from the office and the other one had done some gardening for me when
the shithead needed to earn some extra money.

It's funny how submissive faggots think they can hide what they really are
from the world.  A real man like me, though, can smell from a mile away the
unique combination of FEAR and SEXUAL YEARNING a faggot naturally gives off
-- just like a wolf uses its heightened sense of smell to track, and then
devour, a vulnerable sheep.  It's just classic predator-prey behavior,
dudes!

Yep, I can smell the fearful yearning even of young faggots who think of
themselves as "straight."  My gardening kid already knew he was a faggot,
although it took me a single, several-hour private session employing
alcohol and a light application of my thick, black leather belt for the
queer to understand and accept that her real purpose in life was to serve
me.

The kid from the office, however, was another story.  The handsome young
man had a girlfriend who I knew for a fact he was fucking.  (I knew because
the girl's dad and I were friends and he wasn't happy about it.)  Even with
that boybitch, though, it didn't take me very long to harshly drain all of
the "straight" right out of the motherfucker, exposing the soft, weak,
faggoty woman that the asshole really was on the inside.  Yeah, man, it was
a real revelation to that shithead to learn that her one and true purpose
of Earth was to serve a real man in any way he demanded.  Once I forced the
cunt to say out loud what she was, though, there was no turning back.  She
became a bitch devoted to my twisted needs and desires from that moment on.
("His" girlfriend never got the boy's oversized clit inside her again.
They broke up angrily two weeks later.  The boy could no longer get it up
with her, and she accused him of having found himself a new cunt to fuck.
Stupid bitch.  Far from finding himself a new cunt to fuck, I TRANSFORMED
THE BOY INTO A NEW CUNT TO BE FUCKED.  And with my firm, relentless and
expert training, quite an eager, submissive and devoted cunt she has
become, dudes.  That young whore does not feel complete unless my thick,
hard cock is roughly forcing open one of her tight, but eager, girl holes.)

Anyway, dudes, the specific stories about how I enslaved those two other
bitches is for another time.  The point I want to emphasize here is that I
can SMELL the fear and sexual yearning these sick, twisted bastards give
off.  The ones that already know they're faggots are the easiest.  They are
naturally quiet and respectful around me.  At the office, they are the ones
who immediately, eagerly and fully comply with my requests and demands,
whether it's for another cup of coffee, getting me my lunch or running
personal errands for me.  Yeah, these motherfuckers ooze submissiveness
from their queer pores, whether or not they themselves can fully recognize
it.  Sometimes it's all I can do to keep from laughing out loud when I see
how eagerly these faggots fall over themselves to please me.  Bending weak
faggots like these to my will is like picking soft, low-hanging fruit from
the tree -- or maybe I should say like picking "fruits," which is what
these queers are, dudes!

My real talent is in ferreting out the submissive queerness in the guys who
think of themselves as straight and who to everyone else appear completely
straight.  I've encountered many such guys over the years, including at the
gym, at the office and on the sports teams I coach.  Even someone as
articulate as me (yeah, you whoreboys out there, I'm smart AND hot, so just
deal with it, bitches) can't explain fully how I can spot the "inner queer"
in these otherwise masculine, straight-acting boys.  I guess it's just the
instinct of a real man -- like how I can tell from looking at one of these
boys' cars whether he's trying just a little too hard to come off as macho.
I have developed a standard test for these guys.  I wait until the two of
us are alone somewhere (dugout, wrestling mat, lockerroom, my office, etc.)
and the kid starts boasting to me (as they inevitably do) about some macho
thing the asshole claims he has done (usually involving drinking, driving,
girls or some combination thereof).  Once the excited asshole really gets
going with his stupid-ass story, I adopt a stern, disapproving look on my
face and just stare coldly down at the motherfucker.  Jeez, man, the ones
with the inner queerness always SHUT THE FUCK UP -- sometimes right in the
middle of a boastful sentence!  The confirmation comes when their faces
flush red in embarrassment and they turn their gaze to the fuckin' floor.
It is so very fuckin' sweet, dudes, I can almost taste it right now.
Seeing this submissive response from a hot young jock to my very presence
invariably makes my demanding monster of a dick expand and harden in my
jockstrap until it's like some fuckin' dangerous sex criminal trying madly
to break out of its cotton prison in order to force itself inside some
tight bitch.

Dudes, I've trained enough of these straight-acting motherfuckers to find
out from them later that they themselves did not understand at the time
what was happening to them.  They always describe a sudden rush of intense
embarrassment coursing through their heads and bodies.  I like to describe
this phenomenon as the "deer in the headlights" syndrome, since that seems
to best capture it.  At some deep level of their being, these closeted
queers realize that a life-changing event has been thrust upon them, but
they can neither understand it nor get their minds or bodies to fight it.
They are fuckin' immobilized, just like a deer in the headlights of a car.

In these instances, I like to seal the deal by savoring the kid's
embarrassment for several seconds before giving the newly confirmed bitch a
very simple instruction, like fetching me my gym bag or a sports drink.
These kids tell me later those several seconds of waiting feel like an
eternity to them.  Even if their minds are racing with thoughts of getting
the fuck away from me, their bodies refuse to comply with the instruction.

An important part of my training of these boywhores is to force them later
to re-live the crushing embarrassment of these early, formative
experiences.  Getting them to describe exactly how they felt -- even if
doing so requires a determined application or two of my leather belt to
their tender asses -- fully engrains in their weak, inferior minds what
pathetic bitches they are and that their salvation can come only through
total and selfless devotion to the demands and whims of a real man like me.
It's fuckin' beautiful, dudes!

Anyway, to get back to the faggot Jason, another problem with him was that
he was too young and he claimed to be a virgin.  In my experience, young
faggots who think they want to be a slave to a real man don't really
understand what it entails.  They have some fuckin' stupid queer fantasy
about being broken and enslaved to a real man, but aren't actually ready
for the real thing.  Young queers usually need to go through a variety of
sexual and psychological stages before they are ready for true training as
a boybitch.  I don't really like to waste my time before then.  Dudes, have
ever tried to administer a whipping on a young queer of this type?  Jeez,
man, all it takes is two or three hard slaps of my leather belt on the soft
asses of one of these young, inexperienced faggots for the bitch to be
crying for mercy and saying how she never understood what true enslavement
entails.  (Like all good Masters, dudes, I never bind and gag one of my new
bitches until I know she can take the pain I intend to dish out to her.)

Yet, although this boy Jason claimed to be young and inexperienced, I
picked up on something different in him.  Something that made me think that
maybe -- just maybe -- this eager-sounding young faggot might be suitable
for the kind of intense and live-changing bitch training that was my
specialty.  The fuckin' cunt didn't disappoint, dudes.

To Be Continued. . .