Date: Thu, 2 Dec 2010 03:37:14 -0800 (PST)
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 16

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.  Also contact me with any praise, criticism, or suggestions.  All
feedback is good.

Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 16

The fagdad humbly crawled behind Master into the frat boys' bedroom.  In
the corner, between the two beds, was a chair.  Well, "chair" was a
generous term for what he saw.

Master had used some lumber to create a diabolical seat for a slave.  The
center of it held a cruelly large butt plug.  The wooden seat was too
narrow to fully support a slave's body.  And there were hooks on either
side from which to suspend a slave's ankles.  The end result: any slave
planted here would be continuously balancing himself against the butt plug,
fucking himself until someone let him free.  Master looked at the fagdad
and instructed, "Stand up."  Once the fagdad was upright, Master put his
arms behind him and duct-taped each wrist to the elbow of the other arm,
making those limbs useless.  Master then lubed up the plug from a tube he
had in his pocket.  "Sit on the plug."

The fagdad impaled himself on the buttplug as Master locked his ankles into
place, preventing him from resting his weight on them.  Master explained,
"I spoke with Mitchell and Duncan before they left.  We decided it would be
fun to have you here, watching as they made love to their women this
evening.  Reminding you of how Men enjoy women and how you are unworthy of
that pleasure.  I'm going to scoot these beds away from you so the girls
don't panic.  They're going to keep the lights down so you won't be seen.
But if the fagdad makes any noise, there will be consequences."  The fagdad
started squirming on the buttplug.  "Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me. The
guys asked that I use an itching powder with the lube."  The fagdad groaned
as Master pulled the beds away and closed the door, leaving the room to use
His fagboy.

It didn't take long for the itching powder to make its presence known.  The
fagdad started to squirm against the plug in an effort to satisfy the itch
growing up and down his fuckhole.  All that did was amplify the sensation
and feed his need to press his hole against something.  Anything.  He
started rotating his hips and fucking the plug as best he could.

After what seemed like hours of this insanity, the door to the bedroom
opened.  Fortunately the light entered the room at an angle, lighting the
beds but keeping him in the dark.  He saw Sir Mitchell lead a breathtaking
young woman into the room.  Sir Duncan and his beautiful date were right
behind them.

"I'm glad you two are up for this.  We just thought it'd be kind of fun to
share the room."  The women giggled to each other; apparently they were
friends.  The two couples paired off to their respective beds.  The fagdad
fought his urge to moan in frustration.

Both women were stunningly beautiful, the kind Men like the frat boys could
attract.  The young Men kept the door open so the fagdad could see
everything.  Every bit of flesh as everyone's clothing was removed.  Every
moan and sigh as the women were pleasured by the Men who were fucking them.
And all he could do was witness the lovemaking, impaled on a giant plug,
slowly and silently fucking it to keep his balance and to try to satiate
this eternal itch inside him.  Tears rolled down his face as he accepted
his fate.

Both couples approached orgasm together.  Clearly Sirs Mitchell and Duncan
had done this before.  Being surrounded by the sounds and sights of release
but feeling none of it himself, the fagdad once again came face to face
with his inferior status, his lack of manliness.  This punishment was, he
knew, exactly what he needed, what he deserved.  He wondered if he had won
the contest earlier this evening, if this would have been the award for the
winner just as it had been punishment for the loser.  Proving that faggots
had no choice in anything that happened to them.  He softly sobbed as all
four of their moans grew in intensity.

Both women came before the Men did, but the Sirs were right behind them and
they all enjoyed the bliss of simultaneous release.  All except the fagdad,
of course.  There were a few moments of afterplay as the young Men caressed
the breasts and the necks of the women, kissing them softly as they came
down from their high.

Sir Mitchell spoke.  "Wow, ladies.  That was unbelievable.  Let me help you
both get dressed and cleaned up and I'll drive you two back home."  The
three of them slid out of the room into the bathroom next door, closing the
door and leaving the fagdad alone with Sir Duncan.

The fagdad heard His voice, soft and menacing.  "I bet the fagdad fucking
loved that, didn't you?"

"Yes, Sir.  That was very generous of You both.  I appreciate You two
reminding me what a loser i am, Sir."

Sir Duncan kept quiet until Sir Mitchell and the girls left the house.  He
then got up and turned on the light.  "Jesus fucking Christ.  What a
pathetic piece of fagmeat.  How long has the fagdad been fucking itself on
that plug?"

"i don't know, Sir.  It's been awhile.  The itching powder had been very
frustrating, Sir.  Thank You for that extra misery, Sir, but it has finally
stopped itching so much now, Sir."

"You're welcome, faggot."  Sir Duncan smiled and punched the fagdad in the
gut.  The fagdad responded by grabbing onto the plug for balance.  Without
the itch, he was able to keep his hold on the plug and his prostate
throbbed against it. "Now thank me for that little sign of affection I just
gave you."

"OOF ... thank You, Sir, for Your affection."  Sir Duncan slapped him hard
across the face.  "OUCH!  Thank You, Sir, for this kiss of Your hand."  Sir
Duncan's dick started to rise again as He aimed to punch the fagdad's abs.
The fagdad started to buck against the plug, both to get a better purchase
on it and to pleasure his prostate.  Sir Duncan's eyes displayed
disappointment.  "Is the fagdad trying to escape?  Don't you like it when
I'm showing you some attention, the way a real man should treat a faggot?"

"NO, SIR.  It's fucking perfect.  It makes me grab the plug even harder,
Sir.  Please, Sir...."

"Please what, you dumbfuck asswipe?"

"Oh, God," the fagdad sobbed.  "Please punch me, Sir.  Please punish me for
spending my entire fucking life pretending to be a Man like You."  Sir
Duncan smiled and punched the fagdad's face.  Not hard enough to bleed, but
more than enough to leave a mark.  The fagdad clenched the plug in his hole
to keep his balance and pushed his prostate even harder against it.  "Yes,
Sir, thank You so much, Sir."  Another punch in the guts.

Sir Duncan kept the pace slow and even, cruelly drawing out the pain from
each assault.  His cock was rock hard and dripping.  The fagdad guessed
that Sir Duncan had never used a faggot like this, but it was something He
would love to do again.  Sir Mitchell came back home and entered the
bedroom.  "What the fuck?"

"Seems our fagdad loved our performance so much, he's volunteered to be our
punching bag.  Wanna join in?"

"Nah, but do you mind if I sit back and watch?"

"Help yourself, Mitchell."  Sir Duncan aimed just under the fagdad's
ribcage and punched hard.  A resounding "oof" filled the room.  Sir
Mitchell watched the fagdad grip the buttplug and his fagdick drool inside
its cage.  "Holy fuck.  He's really grabbing onto that plug.  Imagine what
he'd do with a dick up there."

"Mitchell, you wanna find out?"

"Seriously?  Have the fagcunt sit on my dick while you punch him
senseless?"

"Sounds good to me, buddy."

"OK, sure.  Let's do it."  Sir Mitchell stripped and slid His mattress onto
the floor.  His prick was already hard.  Sir Duncan unfastened the fagdad's
ankles and helped him up off the dildo, slick from his juice as he fucked
it for the past few hours.  Sir Duncan led the fagdad to Sir Mitchell and
pushed him down to skewer himself on Sir Mitchell's cock, still wet from
the earlier fuck.  "Oh my fucking god," Sir Mitchell sighed.  "Do it,
Duncan.  I wanna feel this."

Sir Duncan smiled down at the fagdad and punched him in the mouth.  The
fagdad's fuckhole grabbed Sir Mitchell's dick as he tried to remain
upright.  "Ohhhh, fuck yeah," Sir Mitchell moaned.  "Keep the fagdad
grabbing onto my goddamn dick."

Sir Duncan winked at Sir Mitchell and let loose.  Punch after punch.  Guts,
face, chest, shoulders.  The fagdad had no other options but to keep
grabbing Sir Mitchell's hard-on for support as the abuse kept coming at him
from different angles.  The fagdad watched through clenched eyes as Sir
Mitchell grabbed the mattress and thrusted hard into his guts, pulsing hard
as He released his second orgasm of the night.  "Jesus, yes ... Oh man
... Keep it coming...."  Once He finished, He pushed the fagdad off Him.
"Wow.  Amazing.  Fucking fantastic fuck."

Sir Duncan sneered.  "I guess it's my turn now.  The fagdad must stay on
all 4's there.  Don't fucking move."  Sir Duncan got behind the fagdad and
rammed His erection balls deep in a single thrust.  The fagdad cried out as
his hole embraced the new cock inside him, and moaned as his own dick
pressed against the pinpricks of its cage, "Oh god yes, Sir, please rape
me, Sir.  I need to be Your fuckbitch."

"Shut the fuck up, faggot.  Let me enjoy raping your hole."  Sir Duncan
grabbed the fagdad's hips and pounded him harder than any woman could
possibly want, reveling in the power.  "Goddamn, this is good.  I hope I'm
ripping the pathetic fagdad into shreds.  What a hot fuck..."  It didn't
take Him more than a minute to flood the fagdad's guts with His sperm.
"Oh, man...."  As He shot, the fagdad felt His cock pulse against his gland
and he was almost ... but not quite ... able to cum in his
forcibly-softened state.  The agony was delicious and the fagdad moaned in
joyous frustration.

Once Sir Duncan finished, He pushed the fagdad's ass off His prick.  "Get
over here and clean us both off, you pathetic scumsucker. Then suck that
plug clean in gratitude for the training its provided."  The fagdad smiled
and obeyed, sucking the juice of the two women and his own fuckhole off the
two frat Men, then wormed to the Chair and the plug to reverently suck it
clean while the Sirs snickered. Once done, Sir Mitchell released his bound
arms and ordered His mattress be put back on His bed. The fagdad obeyed and
thanked Them both for the opportunity to serve Them and crawled into the
cell taking Their dirty clothes with him and slept surrounded by the dirty
clothes of the house's three Men.  He caressed the fabric that held the
scent of his Superiors and drifted into a blissful sleep.

In his dreams that night, the fagdad found himself spinning on a carnival
ride, out of control, whirling wildly.  At first, he thought he felt panic
but then realized, no, this was exhilaration, and he was encouraging the
ride to go even faster.  He felt like he was finally alive.