Date: Mon, 27 Dec 2010 20:46:42 -0800 (PST)
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 29

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 29

Alexi liked talking with Buck.  Older man, affluent, powerful, confident.
The kind of man Alexi hoped to be as he grew older.

And of course they shared an enjoyment of faggots like the fagdad.  Buck
just hadn't yet come across one so willing to be abused.

"So you're telling me that you guys own Tyler and his son."

"Well, not exactly.  We own the faggots that used to be Tyler and his son.
They're now just known as faggots.  We've carefully stripped them of their
identities, layer by layer, and brought them to what they've always wanted
to be.  All with their ok.  We didn't coerce or force this.  I want to make
certain you understand that."

"So what Tyler was trying to explain to us was ..."

"... was that he and his son were acting under our suggestions.  But they
could have said no to any of this.  That would have meant, though, giving
up on our cocks.  And you know as well as I do what a true faggot will do
for cock."

"Well, not yet, Alexi, but I'm starting to get the idea."

"Buck, I think you've instinctively known all along.  Didn't you write
about how you kept thinking of Tyler's face while you were working out on
the punching bag all during lunch?"

"Fuck yeah.  My brother said he was going to do it, and it sounded great to
me.  Took out all my aggression for the next week on that faggot face I put
on the bag."

"Not only did it have it coming, Buck, but it craved it.  The fucking bitch
cums from getting punched around.  The harder the better.  Wanna watch?"

"Hell, yeah.  I gotta see something like this to believe it."

Alexi and Buck entered the fratboy's room, where the fagdad was mounted on
the Chair.  It was blindfolded so it had no way to anticipate where or when
Duncan was about to punch it next.  So it kept a constant constricting grip
on the plug up its hole and its prick was already dripping in anticipation.
Buck started to whisper, but Alexi put a finger to his lips asking Buck to
keep quiet.  Better to surprise the fagdad later.

Meanwhile, the fagboy was deliriously lost in licking and worshipping
Mitchell's feet under his desk as he chatted online.  Buck shook his head
in disbelief.

Duncan threw a series of jabs into the fagdad's guts.  It moaned, its prick
throbbing in gratitude.  Alexi led Bruce over to the captive faggot and
nodded.

"Is my voice familiar, faggot?"  The fagdad trembled and nodded.

"Good.  That's all I want to know."  Buck punched it in the face.  Its grip
on the plug pushed its prostate against the hard phallus and its prick
leaked in response.  "Jesus, what a fucking asswipe."

"Let it kiss your hand in thanks, " Duncan suggested.  Buck brushed his
hand against its mouth and it silently sucked his fingers inside it.  He
could feel the softness of its gums reverently sucking his flesh.

"Jesus.  You pulled out its teeth?"

"Every last one.  It begged us to pull a tooth each day to remind it to be
silent."  Alexi toyed with the two eyeteeth dangling around his neck.

Buck laughed, withdrawing his worshipped fingers.  "So that means I can do
this."  He started a round of training punches against the fagdad's jaws,
pushing it left and right with his assaults.  The fagdad's prick throbbed
even harder against the rhythmic pacing as it was brought ever closer to
releasing the load within its nuts.  Buck started whispering into its ear
as he continued working out his fists.  "I bet there's so much you want to
say to me right now.  Probably even more you want to ask me.  And still
more you are dying to beg me.  But you aren't permitted to even say a
goddamn word.  God, that's got to be killing you, you fucking fagdad."
With that, Buck threw a quick jab into its guts, pulling it off balance.
"And the next time I'm here, who knows?  Maybe I'll bring Frank and Buck
Jr. with me. So we can all show," Buck added, pulverizing its guts, "just
how much we care."

Alexi left the room and went to his office to check on the replies for the
fuck party he'd arranged for tonight.  Buck had been invited to stay.
Alexi had also invited Mike, the mechanic who'd enjoyed fucking the
fagboy's ass so much, and asked him to invite his TR7 client whose cock the
fagboy had worshipped.  He also invited some men he'd buddied up to at the
compound, looked up a few of the fagdad's old clients from whoring on
Craigslist, and told Duncan and Mitchell to invite any of their frat
brothers who'd like to show up.  The count was up to 27.

Alexi heard the moans of a fagdad's orgasm and laughed, enjoying the power
he held and the clever means he'd used to train the faggots to keep needing
more.  He got up and pissed into their dogbowl for tonight's dinner.  The
thought of that made him look at the clock.  He announced, "it's 5:30 now.
I want to have dinner by 7."  The fagslaves crawled into the kitchen
moments later to begin preparing meals.  "Our guest will be staying for
dinner.  A fourth chair needs to be set up for him.  In the meantime, I
think I'd like to have a drink with him out on the patio.  Buck, what would
you like?"

"How about a Scotch? Rocks?"

"We can make that happen.  Scotch rocks for Buck and iced vodka for me.
Duncan, Mitchell, you guys want anything?"

"I'll just have a diet coke here at my desk," was Mitchell's response.

"I want a beer," shouted Duncan, who was watching TV.

Alexi led Buck outside, confident that all their wishes would be quickly
fulfilled.  The fagboy came out moments later with their drinks and quickly
withdrew to assist in preparing dinner.  Alexi and Buck further discussed
the ins and outs of fag ownership while awaiting the meal.

As dinner was being served, Alexi said he thought it appropriate if Buck
was shown the same courtesy they all enjoyed during breakfast.  The fagdad
fell to the floor and crawled to Buck's seat, starting to sniff and lick
his ass through his jeans.  The men all insisted Buck strip down and enjoy,
so he did, opening his hole to a fagslave's worship.  The fagboy meanwhile
kept his eyes on everyone's plates and glasses, making sure everyone had
everything they might possibly want throughout the meal.  Once the men were
finished with their steaks, the leftovers were tossed in a blender to be
mashed into a pulp.  "Since the bitches became gumsuckers, we've had to
change the protocol a little."  The mash was then dumped into the
piss-filled dog bowl for marinating while the faggots cleaned up.  "I want
the chairs in the garage arranged into a circle in the great room, facing
inside," Alexi declared as he left the kitchen.  He then started
 talking to Mitchell and Duncan in a language the faggots didn't
understand.  They looked at each other skittishly, wondering what might be
in store for them tonight.

After cleaning up the kitchen, turning down the beds, eating their
piss-soaked gruel, and cleaning themselves out for the night, the doorbell
began ringing in guests.  The fagslaves were expected to open the door and
greet the guests by presenting themselves, tongues out to be teased by
complete strangers.  More and more men kept arriving, demanding their coats
be put away, demanding drinks, demanding their pricks be worshiped,
demanding their bladders be emptied, demanding more than two fagslaves
could possibly deliver.  Alexi just stared at them impatiently, the anger
growing on his face.  The faggots knew he would speak to them later.  And
they knew that whenever Master spoke to them, it was bad news.

The men seemed to finally be sated and Alexi spoke loudly to demand their
attention.  "We're here to enjoy a little game tonight, gentlemen.  I like
the name `Last Man Standing.'  We're all to take a seat in the circle and
strip below the waist."  Everyone complied, some stripping completely.
"I've connected my MacBook to our sound system to play some nice music to
fuck by.  But it will only play for a few minutes at a time, stopping
randomly and delivering a beep for a few seconds.

"Our faggots will be blindfolded, across from each other.  Once the music
starts, they will ride the cock of the man seated behind them, working like
hell to get him off.  Once the music stops, they must unmount themselves
from that man and slide over to the man to his left.  They ride that cock
as long as the music plays, stopping when the random timer goes off again
or when a man cums.  On and on and on, continually pleasuring men for only
a few minutes at a time.

"If they get a man to cum, he must leave the circle.  Unless he cums so
quietly and softly that nobody notices.  A faggot's wet hole isn't proof
that anyone shot inside it.  These cunts are practically self-lubricating
by this point in their training."  That little lie was to make things more
cruel for the fagslaves.  "The last man in the circle is the winner and his
reward is to take home a fag, or use it here, for the next 24 hours.  I
want the faggots blindfolded so they can't play favorites."  The fagslaves
disappeared for a moment, going into their cell to grab their blindfolds,
and re-entered the circle in the great room before putting them on.
Mitchell and Duncan then spun each of them around a few times and set them
across from each other, each putting one on his own lap.  Alexi started the
computer program and the music before taking his seat in the circle.  And
the contest began.

The men offered no assistance, leaving it completely to the fagslaves to
ride their cocks.  The faggots understood they only had a few minutes for
each man and so they rode like crazy, humping each prick as quickly as
possible and grunting and groaning like the most depraved whores alive.
Which, in fact, they probably were.  The music stopped, the beeper sounded,
and the men quickly pushed them off their pricks.  The faggots felt their
ways to the pricks on their left and got into position to begin humping
again as soon as the music restarted.

With only a few minutes at a time to fuck, and with so many men in the
circle before a man would get ridden again, it took hours before the first
man got off.  His body tensed, he grabbed the faggot's hips, and shot his
load deeply and noisily into the fagboy's fuckhole.  "Fuck yeah, faggot.
Work that cunt, come on.  Make Me feel good."  The voice was familiar but
there was no way for either fagslave to ask his identity.  His identity was
above them.

The fagholes were both raw and drying out at this point and every fuck was
agonizing.  But they couldn't complain or suggest.  All they could do is
ride the next cock harder and faster, hopefully bringing it to an orgasm
which would re-lube their hole and take him out of the circle for further
fucking.  They were in literal fucking agony by the time the second man
shot his load, this one inside the fagdad, quieter but still noticeable by
the other men.  It was now becoming an accepted rule of the game to try to
cum as quietly as possible with the realization that by the time the other
faggot got to you, you'd be ready to fuck some more.  Each fagslave
suspected they'd brought off one or two men without anyone noticing.  But
they, of course, could say nothing.  Faggots are seen and not heard.
Nobody gives a fuck what a fagslave has to say.  A slave's mouth is for
input, not output.

As more and more men left the circle, there was less rest before a faggot
came around to ride each prick for another round, and the men started
leaving the circle more quickly.  Eventually it was down to Alexi's
mechanic Mike, Mitchell, Buck, and (of course) two exhausted, sore, and
unnoticed fagslaves.

Mike was being ridden by a fagboy desperate for his orgasm.  The slave's
cheeks were beautifully tear-stained from being fucked so hard by so many
for so long.  It could think of nothing else but causing another orgasm and
allowing this game to end.  The fagdad, riding Mitchell's magnificent
prick, was equally possessed with the sole goal of causing yet another man
to shoot up its hole.

Mitchell finally sighed deeply and released his load deeply inside a
grateful fagdad.  He got up, crudely popping the fagdad's hole off his
meat.  The blindfolded fagdad reached to its left and found muscular, hairy
thighs.  It reached for the prick between them and sat itself down.

"Know who this is, fagbitch?" Buck asked.  A suddenly terrified fagdad
nodded while working its exhausted thighs and calves up and down trying to
bring him to orgasm.

Buck pulled the fagdad's head back and whispered in its ear.  "Your son has
been riding the only other guy left for about six minutes.  He looks damn
close to shooting. If the music lasts a few more moments, that will leave
only me as the winner, faghole.  Just imagine what that will mean."  The
fagdad appeared to tremble and work its hole even harder, desperate to
bring its man to cumming.  Buck responded by wrapping his massive arms
around the fagdad, holding it close to his body and limiting its movements
to grasping and releasing his prick like the plug that had impaled it for
hours earlier in the day during its punching bag training.  The fagdad
moaned and cried against him.

The fagboy, unaware of its father's torment, kept riding Mike like a
desperate lunatic.  Mike, loving the fuck of the slaveboy's wanton ass and
seeing the power displayed by Buck, lost his control and screamed his
orgasm inside the fagboy's guts.  Buck chuckled cruelly inside the fagdad's
ear.  "All fucking night, you cunt-faced fagbitch urinal.  And all fucking
day tomorrow."

The faggots were pushed off the men as Alexi declared Buck the winner to a
round of applause by the other Men in the room.  "Got a preference as to
which faggot you take home with you?"

"I want the fuckin' fagdad.  But Alexi, can I use it here tonight?  I gotta
wife and didn't think to arrange for a hotel...."

"No problem, buddy.  If it's okay with you, we can go to my room and you
can have the fagdad while I watch and get serviced by its faggot son.
Everyone else, I hope you enjoyed yourselves, but this party is over.
We'll have another one in a few weeks."  The fagboy and fagdad had their
blindfolds removed and were responsible for getting each man dressed and on
his way home.  Once finished, they crawled into Alexi's room for the night.
As exhausted as they were, their use as entertainment for the night was far
from over.  The fagdad dreaded its use by its former boss, knowing the
level of shame and agony ahead of it, knowing this was the only logical
sequence for it, knowing this was all it deserved.  A life of silent and
unsharable shame, agony, and humiliation at the service of real Men.