Date: Thu, 18 Nov 2010 07:18:19 -0800 (PST)
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 7

First, the disclaimers.  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.  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 7

Ryan was going fucking nuts.  It was currently day 20 and although the
worst of it seemed to be over for Ryan, the inability to touch or use his
cock was still devastating.  He couldn't think of anything else but orgasm.
Of stroking his meat.  Or at least getting hard.

Mitchell and Duncan had been especially cruel these past few days.  Instead
of sucking them off, they insisted on jerking off all over his locked
crotch.  And yesterday was even worse: he had to lie in bed between them
and jerk them both off while his own prick pulsed against the pinpricks
preventing anything close to an erection.  He sobbed as he was told to lick
up their loads from their bellies.

After he completed that task to their satisfaction, they told him to come
back to their frat house at 9AM.  That was now and here he was, at the
Gamma Tau house, kneeling at the front door and scared to death that some
stranger would answer his knock and see him kneeling like some pledge.

"Hello, faggot.  Sleep well?" Mitchell asked.  Sleep had been impossible
now for nearly a week.  Lying in bed inevitably led to dry-humping the
mattress until that became too painful to bear.

"The best I could, Sir."

"Good.  We need you well-rested for today's chores. Follow Me."  Mitchell
led Ryan upstairs and into the second door on the right, a bathroom.  The
frat house was built as a small dorm.  There were sets of three rooms: 2
bedrooms flanking a shared bath.  Three sets of three rooms on each side of
the hall, and an identical setup on each of three floors.  A total of 18
baths and 36 bedrooms for 72 guys.  They were in the bath for Mitchell &
Duncan's room and the bedroom of two of their Gamma Tau buddies.  "Your job
today is to clean our toilets.  All of them.  Hand scrubbed clean.  No
spots, no dirt.  When you finish each toilet, you are to knock on one of
the bedroom doors and ask for your work to be inspected.  Any stains or
dirt we find will be licked clean." Mitchell tossed him a sheet with 18
signature lines on it.  "Have each bathroom inspected and signed off by one
of the Gammas who uses it.  The completed sheet comes back to me.  Got it,
fagboy?"

"Yes, Sir.  Everyone here knows that I'm your slave?  They'll be ok with me
knocking on their door?"

"Not everyone has seen you, bitchboy, but everyone knows about you, yes.
Good point, though; we should make it very clear who and what you are."
Mitchell chuckled and pulled out a marker from his jeans pocket.  "Kneel
and remove your fucking shirt."

Ryan stripped off his T-shirt and got on his knees. "F..." Mitchell spelled
out as he wrote across Ryan's back.  "A .... G .... S .... L ... A ... V
... E.  There, fagslave.  Just so there's no misunderstandings."  He
started to close the marker and shook his head.  "No, that's too subtle."
He moved Ryan's head into profile and wrote on his right cheek.
"Cum..... Eating .... Homo."  And onto his left.  "Cock ... Starved
.... Queer".  Then on his neck Mitchell drew an arrow pointing up to Ryan's
mouth.  At the base of the arrow, on Ryan's collarbone: "U ... R ... I
... N ... A ... L.  In case anyone needs to take a piss while you're
cleaning his john.  OK, fagbitch.  You've got 24 hours and all your
supplies."

"Supplies, Sir?  I don't see anything here.  Where's the scrubbing powder,
or the scrub brush?"

"Scrubbing powder?  What, your arms are too weak to scrub on their own?"

Ryan sighed, "No, Sir."

"And your clothes are too good for our toilets?"

"Of course not, Sir.  I'll get right to work, Sir."  Ryan sighed and tossed
his T-shirt in the john and started rubbing and scrubbing to get off all
the stains inside.

"Remember, dicksuck: any stains we see get licked up, so make damn sure our
toilets are fucking spotless.  And if any Gamma Tau wants to use the john
you're cleaning, open wide and swallow his piss for him.  And you are one
lucky fagbitch; it's the week before Memorial Day Weekend; almost everyone
not in class is here studying for exams.  So get to work."

It took about 20 minutes for Ryan to knock on Mitchell's door.  "Please,
Sir, could you sign your approval for my cleaning of your toilet?"
Mitchell got up and followed Ryan into the bathroom.  "What the fuck is
this?  I didn't just mean the john, shithead.  The entire room.  John,
shower, sink, floor, everything fucking spotless.  Since you clearly didn't
understand, I'll give you a second chance."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.  But my T-shirt is filthy at this point and I
have nothing else to use."

"You've got more clothes, stupid.  And you can always wash them clean and
reuse them.  Of course, doing that probably dirties up the sink a little,
so you'll have to re-clean it before inspection."  Mitchell turned around
and left a dumbstruck slave stripping off his jeans to scrub clean the
filthy floor of the fratboys' bathroom.

And it was fucking filthy.  It had probably been at least a year since the
floor was last cleaned.  Ryan didn't even try to figure out what some of
these stains were.  And it didn't really matter.  All that was important
was that he scrub those stains out.  Soon Ryan was stark naked, his
T-shirt, jeans, boxer briefs, and socks all dripping dry in the shower.
Ryan used his t-shirt to mop up the drips from his other clothes and then
padded back to Mitchell's room, stark naked.  "Please, Sir, would you
inspect a cocksucker's work in scrubbing your bathroom clean and sign off
your approval, Sir?"

Mitchell looked everything over and got his pen out of his pocket.
"Everything looks damn nice, cuntface ... except .... Seems to me there's a
huge puddle of piss on the floor."

Ryan's face shot down to see where he'd missed.  "Sir?  Where, Sir?  I
don't see it, Sir."

"Right here, faggot, at my feet."  Ryan had pulled his prick out of his
boxers and was pissing on the floor.  "Better lick it up if you want my
signature."  Ryan shot his head to the floor and started slurping up
Mitchell's piss.  Mitchell started cracking up.  "Fuck, you are a pathetic
piece of shit.  I fuckin' love it."  Ryan finished slurping and licking up
Mitchell's rank urine from the floor.  "Please, Sir?  Do you approve, Sir?"

"Kneel like a footstool and I'll sign the paper on your back."  As he
signed, he said. "One more thing, bitch.  I forgot to put one more mark on
your face.  Face me now."  Mitchell began to write on Ryan's forehead with
the heavy marker.  "S ... U ... C ... K ... H ... O ... L ... E".  And then
an arrow pointing down his nose into his mouth.  "Some of my frat buddies
aren't all that smart and need to be told these kinds of things.  OK,
cuntface.  One down and 17 more to go.  Get to fucking work."

Ryan went across the hall and started cleaning.  About 10 minutes in, while
he was elbow deep down the john scrubbing out some unknown mess with his
T-shirt, one of the bedroom doors opened.  "What the fuck?"

Ryan turned beet red.  "Yes, Sir.  I'm Mitchell and Duncan's slave here to
clean all your toilets, Sir."

"Shit, yeah, I forgot about that."  He chuckled.  "Man, so you really do
exist, huh?  I figured it was all talk with those two."

"No, Sir.  I'm their slave, Sir."  Ryan remembered what was written across
his back.  "Their fagslave, Sir."

"Yeah, that's clear.  And their cum-eating homo and their cock-starved
queer.  And ..." his eyes went down to Ryan's chest, "their urinal as well,
huh?  Good.  I gotta take a wicked leak."

"I was told that anyone needing to use the john while I'm cleaning it can
just piss down my faggot throat, Sir."  Ryan knelt at this stranger's feet
and opened his mouth.  The fratboy shrugged his shoulders and undid his
shorts.

"OK, fagslave.  Drink up."  He was a little pee shy, but it didn't take
long for his full stream to be battering against the back of Ryan's throat.
Ryan worked to open his throat so the flow would just puddle in his guts.
The piss finally receded and the fratboy slid his cock back in his shorts.
"Jesus.  I can't believe fuckwads like you exist.  That's fucking
disgusting."  He slapped Ryan hard across the face.  "That's for being
alive, faggot.  Every day a queer like you is alive, you should be slapped
in the face."

"Yes, Sir.  Thank you for your piss, Sir, and the attention you gave me."
Mitchell and Duncan had put Ryan through a similar routine when he first
begged them for their cocks.

"Knock on my door for my signature when you think this room is clean,
faggot."  This bathroom was even filthier than Mitchell's.  Apparently the
guys here jerked off and let their cum drip down the walls.  Ryan
contemplated licking the walls clean but figured it'd go faster if he just
scrubbed.  It took about 35 minutes for him to knock on the fratboy's door.

"Sir, could you please inspect my work on your bathroom, Sir?"

This Gamma Tau really was a jaw-droppingly handsome man.  Blond and
blue-eyed, corn-fed midwestern type.  Beautiful skin and face.  Slender,
but well-muscled.  "Looks clean to me, bitch.  But there's one problem."

"Yes, Sir?"  Ryan expected another puddle of piss on the floor.  Thank God
this guy had already dumped a bladderful down Ryan's throat.

He pointed at Ryan's forehead.  "It says here that your mouth is a
suckhole.  I haven't been sucked yet.  To me, that's false advertising."

"Sir, would you like me to suck you off, Sir?"

"If you want my signature, shithead, then you'll worship my goddamn cock
until I empty out a load."

Ryan wrapped his arms around the fratboy's ass and started to tongue his
prick through his shorts.  That earned him a fast slap across the face.
"No.  I don't want to feel any goddamn hands on my body.  No contact but my
cock inside your goddamn throat."  Ryan held his hands behind his back as
he started sucking, rocking back and forth on this stranger's cock.  It
took about 15 minutes, but the guy eventually sighed deeply and shot deep
down Ryan's throat.

"Thank you for your nourishing cum, Sir!!"

"Jesus.  You fucking depraved whore."  He spat across Ryan's face, signed
the paper, and tossed it on his lap.

The other 16 bathrooms were completed the same way.  It was about 3AM when
Ryan was finishing the last bathroom.  His clothes were shredded from
scrubbing so hard.  He stunk of piss from the many loads he'd swallowed.
(Apparently word got around about his urinal services.)  He had licked up
stains on the floor or around the rim of the toilet in 3 of the bathrooms,
but he finally got all the signatures he needed.  Except this one.

He knew better than to wake up any of the Gamma Taus for inspection, so he
waited until one came into the bathroom to take a leak.  "Please, Sir,
could you sign off on my cleaning of your bathroom?  I'll happily swallow
your piss, Sir, if you'd like."

"I need to piss, yes.  But it's going to take more than that to get my
signature, faghole."

"Whatever you want, Sir."

"I want to rape your fucking face.  Grab hold of your head and fuck your
goddamn throat like a cunt.  Bruise up your throat and lips so you're too
swollen to swallow for a few days.  Mark your fucking throat as mine."

Ryan crawled up to him slackjawed "Sir, whatever you want, Sir."  He was
immediately sorry he said it.  The fratboy pulled out a massive prick.  At
least 10 inches long and as thick as a jackhammer.  It was already starting
to drip salty precum as the fratboy placed the head of it in Ryan's mouth.
"Enjoy this rape, faggot.  You'll be dreaming about it for the rest of your
fucking life."  He grabbed the back of Ryan's head with both hands and
pulverized his face for the next 20 minutes.  He stayed rock hard and
simply slowed down his fuck while he shot spray after spray of hot piss
into Ryan's guts.  The only way Ryan could breathe was to have his lungs
sucking in constantly, pulling in air when they could.  This meant the
fratboy was literally choking Ryan, so he set a rhythm so Ryan could keep
time with his ramming.  His thrusts were raping and scraping Ryan's throat,
bruising both his throat and his lips with cruelly barbaric force.  When
the fratboy's monster cock finally shot, it was far enough down Ryan's
throat that he never got a taste of his seed.  The fratboy pulled out,
smacked Ryan across the face, and sneered: "You fucking parasite.  You'll
be begging me for a repeat of that for the rest of your fucking life.
Ain't gonna happen.  One rape per fag."  Ryan hung his head, knowing the
fratboy was right.

After the fratboy went back to bed, Ryan tore his jeans down to shorts, put
those on, and started to toss the rest of his defiled, shredded clothes
into the trash bin, but changed his mind at the last moment.  He slid the
completed approval sheet under Mitchell's door and collapsed in his car,
using his clothes soaked and stained with the piss, cum, and raunchy filth
of dozens of frat boys as his pillow.  He awoke after a few hours and drove
back home, now knowing without a doubt that he was the lowest of the low, a
pathetic insatiable hole aching to be raped in both ends and to be used in
the most depraved ways possible.