Date: Sun, 21 Nov 2010 19:25:29 -0800 (PST)
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 11

First, the disclaimers.  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, Copyright 2010.  The
narrative that follows did not happen to me or to anyone else I know.  The
characters in the story, like myself, are all of legal age.  Don't contact
Me to meet these slaves.  DO contact Me if you want to become one of these
slaves.  <smirk> Also contact me with any praise, criticism, or
suggestions.  All feedback is good.

Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 11

... his son.  Tyler had just sucked off, had just been sucked off by, his
own fucking son.  "Oh, holy Christ."

That had to have been the most powerful, amazing sexual experience Tyler
had ever experienced.  He didn't include his servicing Men as sexual
experiences; they were far more about power.  He had no sexual desire for
these Men.  This cocksucker, on the other hand, was incredible.  Tyler
wanted to bury himself down that moist suckhole.  True, he only had his
wife to compare things to, but there was no comparison.  Never had Tyler's
sexual arousal been greater, or even come close.  His lust was so powerful
that he hungered after the cock in his own mouth, wanting to give it the
pleasure he was receiving so powerfully.  In the heat of the 69, Tyler
thought back to that bookstore and the cocksuckers who were getting rated
on their skills.  This cocksucker, he thought at the time, would get all
the yes votes he needed in no time flat.  And now to find out ... that
amazing suckhole was his son!

"Dad?  Really?  I didn't know..."  Ryan was equally speechless.  OK, so
Ryan was surprised as well. Tyler looked at his son, stark naked except for
a chain locked around his neck.  Was he submissive too?  A slave to Alexi
like he was?  He was ashamed to admit how much he loved that blowjob.
Fucking incredible.  Then Tyler came back to the present and realized how
he must now look to his son.  Nylons.  Stilettos.  A fucking apron for
chrissakes.  What a fucking pathetic sight for a son to see.

Tyler heard laughter from the other room.  Men laughing; not just Alexi.
Oh, Jesus, how fucking humiliating was this going to get?  He heard the
door opening at his head.  "Come on out, bitchboys.  I think it's time you
two got to know each other.  Really got to know each other."

Tyler and his son both crawled out of the cell and into the bedroom closet.
Alexi was in the bedroom and led them both into the great room where there
were two other Men, both Ryan's age.  Tyler looked at Ryan and saw he
apparently knew Them; Ryan crawled up to Them and respectfully kissed Their
sneakers.  Tyler swallowed what tatters were left of his pride and did the
same for Alexi.  Any real Man would have felt anger at what had just
happened, but Tyler was instinctively filled with shame.  He wasn't a Man,
after all, and this was just what he fucking deserved.  To be completely
humiliated and broken in front of his own son.  Without even realizing it,
his kisses slid into gentle, loving licks of affection for the Man who had
so effectively taken him to this place of erotic shame.

Alexi spoke.  "It was pathetic that the two of you had come to a place
where you could have been supporting each other, helping each other, but
neither of you had the nuts to confess your true feelings.  You two claim
to know each other, but I think we just proved that you're fucking
strangers.  Or, I guess in this case, sucking strangers."

The other two Men chuckled at Alexi's pun.

"So look, I'm laying down some ground rules.  First off, Tyler, you owe me
in a massive way.  I could have taken such fucking advantage of you and I
didn't.  Yes, I whore you out to men on Craigslist..."  Ryan gasped and
stared hard at his father.  "... but that is just to strengthen your
submission.  I haven't taken any financial gain from you at all.  Hell, I
haven't even asked for payment on all the work I've done here.  That's
about to change.

"I've taken all this trouble to nurture your innate need to submit.  And I
trained your son to be a great slaveboy.  Yes, Tyler, we've all been taking
excellent care of Ryan.  Isn't that right, slaveboy?"  Ryan nodded quietly.
"And, in case you hadn't already figured it out, that entire session in the
cell was captured on computer video.  In less than a minute, it can be sent
to everyone on your email list, Tyler.  If ever there was a video that
could go viral ... a father/son 69 ...."

Tyler sobbed like the pathetic and broken bitch he was.  "What do You want
from me?  It's Yours.  It's all Yours."

"I want this house.  I've made it a great place to live, and I want to live
here.  I'm not going to throw you guys out.  You're both great slaves,
wonderful little minions, and it's a pleasure to own both of you.  Fucking
father and son.  Jesus.  But slaves should own nothing.  The house, the
cars, everything.  Titles go to me."

Tyler looked at Ryan, asking his approval.  Ryan weakly smiled and nodded.

"Done, Sir."

"Then go get your wallets and credit cards, fagbitches, and present them to
me."  Tyler crawled into his bedroom, got all his money and credit, and
crawled back to Alexi.  Ryan was already there with his wallet.  Ty took a
deep breath, put them in his hands, and cupped his hands together up to
Alexi.  Alexi took their money and credit cards and smiled.  "Good little
faggots."  The Men snickered.

"Until I decide otherwise, your career continues as is.  Paychecks get
signed over to me.  That'll pay for faggots' room and board.  And for
whatever tools I decide will be useful in deepening your training as
fagslaves.  As for the fagboy's college, I'll allow input from both of you
on that issue -- but the final decision, like all decisions, is mine
alone."

Tyler and Ryan both nodded their consent.  Ryan added a hushed, "Thank You,
Sir, so very much."

"And these two guys, well...."  Alexi gave a flourish to the college boys.
"These are good friends of Ryan.  You owe them, too.  They made your son
the happy slave he is today.  He can tell you all about it some time."
Ryan nodded.  "They're your superiors, of course.  They'll be moving in
here with Me.  They'll get two beds in what was Ryan's room.  I'll sleep in
the Master bedroom.  And you two ... well, you just left your bedroom.
Easily accessible from either of our rooms.  We can buzz the cell and call
one or both faggots for service at any time.

"I want meals prepared for all of us on whatever schedule we determine is
best.  If all three of us will be in at different times, then dinner is
served three times that day.  It is our responsibility to let you bitches
know when we expect our meals.  But if we are late, it's your
responsibility to keep things warm and tasty for us."

"Yes, Sir.  As You wish, Sir."

"My home is to be kept freaking spotless.  Our rooms are to be kept in
model condition.  As soon as one of us gets out of bed, the bed is made.
And if we slide back in for a nap, it's made when we get up again.  We will
drop our clothes and towels on the floor; it's the responsibility of a
fagslave to tidy up behind us.  Our dirty clothes are kept on your bed
until they're washed.  You're to sleep in our stink.

"Our laundry is to be done each morning.  Should we want to wear something
that's been in the hamper, your bed, for more than a day, there will be
consequences."

Tyler nodded, understanding how his submission was reaching new depths.  It
was terrifying and exhilarating.  But it didn't matter; there was
absolutely no fucking choice in the matter.  He also hoped there was enough
time in the day to take care of all these responsibilities.  "I'm glad
there are two of us," he thought to himself.

"Now we arranged for this to take place over a holiday weekend.  That's no
coincidence, faggots.  By Tuesday morning, all three of us will be moved
into our new home.  And none of us should have to lift a fucking finger to
make it happen.  I've got a schedule which we'll go over tomorrow.  But
you're both going to be very busy this weekend.

"If there is need to punish one of you slaveholes, we're not going to worry
about which faggot is to blame.  You both will be punished equally for any
and every infraction."

Tyler and Ryan both nodded, looking deeply into each other, understanding
the consequences of this rule.

Alexi continued.  "I keep reading about the importance of maintaining a
slave's true identity.  Makes sense to me.  So you're not going to be known
as Tyler and Ryan any more.  At least not around here.  You're both just
faggot slaves, whether you're queer or straight."  Ryan's eyebrow raised
curiously.  "So that's your new label.  `fagslave.' It's a label, not a
name.  It's "a fagslave", "the fagslave" ... think of it like "a toaster"
or "the toaster."  You don't call it "toaster".  Same label for both of
you, because one fagslave is pretty much like another.  If there's a need
to refer to one of you specifically, it's `the fagboy' and `the fagdad.'
Yeah, fagdad.  I fucking love the sound of that, don't you guys?" He looked
over at the frat boys, whose ear to ear grins were all the answer Alexi
wanted.  "Similarly, I will be known as `Master.'  All other men," he
nodded towards
 Ryan's friends, "will be known as `Sir'.  Fagslaves, like toasters, have
no need to know anything about us ... except what we choose to tell them."

Tyler was softly crying in acknowledging how his life as he once knew it
was now over.  He wondered about the long-term effects of such total
objectification, not only of themselves, but of each other.

"Any questions?"

Tyler shook his head and trembled.  "No, Master.  It's what You deserve.
It's what i deserve, Master."

Ryan spoke up, hoping he wasn't crossing any lines.  "It's what we both
deserve, Master.  Thank You so much."

"Excellent.  I'm glad we're all on the same page.  I've already done the
research on what documents we need to make all this happen.  I'll take care
of printing them all up.  Mitchell, Duncan, why don't you take the
fagslaves into your room and let the fagboy introduce his fagdad to you
guys?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," one of them answered.  He took Ryan
into their bedroom as the other Man strode up to Tyler.  "The fagdad should
follow me, " He smirked.