Date: Fri, 5 Oct 2012 18:57:11 -0500
From: CAMERON BROCK III <cameronbrock3@gmail.com>
Subject: IF HE HOLLER$ MAKE HIM PAY -- PART 19. GAY AUTHORITARIAN

IF HE HOLLER$ MAKE HIM PAY --   PART 19


by Cameron Brock III

(cameronbrock3@gmail.com)


NOTE: I'm only 19 so don't expect a bunch of fancy writing from me.  Yeah,
this really is my real name and email and all this shit really happened. I
know it sounds weird but it's all fucking true because people really ARE
like this. A guy couldn't make up all the freaking stuff (LOL). Don't
fucking read it if you can't stand the fucking truth about men and their
fucking fags.


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TOOLS FOR BREAKING YOUR FAG



Sure faggots regularly send me fag-tax money tributes via my paypal,
but it's kind of hilarious when these money-cunts buy me stuff like
shoes or books or tablets or computer supplies or camping equipment
off my amazon wish list just for their sheer honor of pleasing a real
man.

Plus they get that joyful buzz of feeling that they've sacrificed
something of their otherwise worthless faggot lives to please a
superior male.

Even more fun when you can Use those SAME objects AGAINST fags.

Like shoes.

Fags worship the feet of superior men. Literally. Sometimes you fags
don't always like it. Even you fags know it's nasty. Degrading.
Humiliating. But we men make you do it anyways.
	Eventually, you fags learn that this is one of a fag's many ways to
demonstrate, literally, that you are lower than low, that you bow down
to my superiority, demonstrating to yourself and the world that you
are something worthy of only being stepped on.
	Basically, you fags are accepting that a superior man like me can
walk all over you.


Fags who've served me have told me that they love the thrill of
FINALLY being at my feet.

Only yesterday I ordered this one faggot to tell me just what turned
him on about worshipping my shoes.

I made him tell me even while he was licking the brand new shoes that
some other long-distance faggot had bought me. The happy pussyboy kept
licking, but was so grateful for a chance to get to speak to me, too.

The fag babbled something like this:

"God, Sir, I love bowing down in front of you while you're standing
there above me, watching me do it. You know, groveling here, maybe
being totally naked, while you're standing there smirking down at what
a cock-crazed little faggot I am. I feel so weak and defenseless,
well, I feel that ALL the time, but it feels soooo good to ADMIT that
in front of someone who KNOWS it!!!
	"Sometimes I even imagine doing that right in public, publicly bowing
down, kissing a guy's shoes, not caring what anyone else thinks, just
obeying, always obeying....
	"One time, I was just kind of following this guy whose cock I really
wanted to worship. You know how we fags will do that. We see a guy in
the street we know might use us. And we just get so distracted with
the idea that he might use us, we just follow him like little lost
dogs. So I followed him. But didn't have the nerve to really present
myself as a faggot available for his use. I didn't have the nerve,
like I do now, thanks to YOU, sir.
	"Anyway, I followed this guy. Blocks and blocks. I just KNEW he was a
real man worthy of worship. And he stopped on this park bench waiting
for his girlfriend.
	"Maybe I was crazy, but I took the risk. I couldn't help myself. I
stopped in front of him. Got about as close as I dared to get to him.
Maybe it was obvious. But I got fairly close. Then I stooped down.
Bowed right in front him.
	"I bent down on my knee and pretended to tie my shoe. Weird, I know,
but I was, like, ridiculously close up to this guy's shoes, pretending
to tie my shoe, but really just practically drooling next to his feet.
I really could've really literally reached out and TOUCHED his shoes!!
And boy did I savor the moment, really taking my time pretending to
tie my own shoe, while admiring his, and reveling in the public moment
of being at his crotch level!! I caught glimpses of it out of the
corner of my eye. Just imagining crawling closer! And then all those
other people passing by, watching, watching me bowed at  his very
feet!
	 "Damn. It was like...heaven! And for a moment I thought how great it
would be if it were really really REALLY possible to do something like
that! You know, bow down and kiss a guy's shoes-- IN PUBLIC!  He would
just tell me to kiss his shoes right there in public and I would. I
would DO it right in front of everyone!
	"God it felt good, just sort of surreptitiously bowing down in front
of him, even though I was pretending to tie my shoes.  Well when I
finally stood up, well, I think I caught his eye and I think maybe he
grinned at me, as if he had caught on what I was REALLY doing and he
had really pegged me as a shoe-slurping faggot. I felt this flush of
shame and humiliation, I think I even heard him chuckling a little as
I walked away, and later I realized that that shame and humiliation
actually felt GOOD. I musta jacked off about a million times thinking
about that one moment near a potential master's shoes. It was a sign
of me getting close to realizing my full self as a submissive faggot!"



Yeah, fags like to suck on feet.
	Or socks.
	Or shoes.
Faggots  revel in the shame and humiliation of it. For them, the
shivers of shame and humiliation as they lower themselves become an
honor. That feeling is a sign that they are discovering their purpose,
and they soon come to love that feeling. With the face down and ass up
in the air they worship the feet of their Master. Suck and lick them.
They especially like sucking the big toe because it reminds them of a
penis. It just makes them feel good. Of course it's a real power trip
for the Real Man when a fag turns over all his dignity and just starts
desperately begging for a chance to grovel on the floor before his
master.
	It's also funny as fuck!!!!


By analogy, therefore, fags also love the shoes that those superior
feet come in. They adore this connection, worship the footwear to the
point where the obession becomes an object of desire in itself.

As a superior male, I have detected more than one faggot in this fashion.

I have caught fags trying to get near the shoes I leave in my gym
locker, just trying to inhale a molecule or two of my aroma that might
drift in their direction.  Damn, it's like fags just have to HAVE
something of my manliness INSIDE them in some way.  Even if it's my
SMELL!


I've also left my shoes out as a secret training device for my dorm
roommate.  	See, I know my geeky dorm roommate is a fag. But I'm still
just torturing him subliminally by using his natural submissiveness
against him, toying with the queer cocksucker. He doesn't know it, but
someday he's going to be begging me to fuck him good. Meanwhile I'm
making him do my homework, my laundry, cooking my breakfast for us,
etc., subtly bullying him into deeper and deeper submission.
	Part of my techniques is to very obviously leave some of my stinky
sneakers out in a certain place.  When I get back from class or the
frat house, I noticed that the shoes had been slightly moved from
their original position, and I naturally suspected when I wasn't there
that the fag was secretly getting off on sniffing the shoes of a
superior. Poor fag was so desperate to discover his place at the feet
of a real man.
	Of course I later had this confirmed when I had a secret cam
installed and watched the geek-fag's behavior when I was away.
	My poor little faggot roommate is soooo in the closet even to
himself, that he couldn't bring himself to do much, but me and my
friends over at the frat house, had a fun time watching him crawl on
his hands and knees over to my pair of shoes and smell them, sniffing
and snuffling them, as if I were still standing in them. Occasionally
he would even pick one up in his mouth and shake it around with his
head, almost as if he were a dog worrying a shoe. 	Yeah, I know.
Weird, right?  Just goes to show what fags will do. What desperate
depths they will sink too. It's hilarious.
	After that little ceremony of shoe-worship, the little geek-fag
groped around for his little drippy dick in  his khakis, then he'd
disappear into his bedroom, probably to jack his weenie over that
silly little transaction with my shoes.


One time we even rigged up a shoe as a "chastity device" on a fag.
	We got one of the dirtiest smelliest worn-out shoes we could find.
One of Jonah's old sneakers. We fitted the fag's dick into the top of
the shoes, crammed his hole cock and ballsack into that musky old
shoe. Then we clamped it down tight onto his crotch, wrapping the
shoestrings tight around his whole toolset, then bound the entire shoe
flat to his belly with a rope down and around his buttcrack and
ductaped it firmly behind his waist. Poor fag musta dripped his
fagjuice in that shoe for a week before we let him take it off!  	He
sure looked goofy. But isn't that the point of playing with faggots?
Doing stupid ass things to them so you can laugh at them and teach
them a lesson in humility at the same time?


Shoes are also cheap punishment devices for fags.
	 You can tie shoes on to other various body parts of fags. Use the
shoestrings to hang the shoes from the balls and make'em walk and
crawl with a pair of shoes hanging from their dicklets.  Or hang'em
from their ears and the stupid fags look hella goofy, But then, what
are fags put on this earth for, if not our entertainment?
	I've even made a fag crawl around the house for a few days with shoes
on his hands just so it'd realize it really wasn't meant to live like
real humans.


Oh yeah, I almost forgot:
	When you're really ready to give your fag a whalloping, whether it's
for punishment for not sucking your buddy's cock right, or just for
grins, make the fag go get you a shoe and bring it to you in his
mouth.
	Then take that shoe and wham the hell outta that fag's butt. It makes
a great paddle, the fag is reminded that one of the objects of its
worship is also a source of great pain and power,  plus it also leaves
a really ridiculous looking waffle-pattern bruise on its faggy little
butt.

Oh, also: KICKING fags is fun too. Just plain kicking the shit out of 'em.
                  Make the fags lick your shoes, then kick'em.
	Then make'em lick your shoes again, then kick'em.
	Make the fags lick your shoes again, then kick them even harder.
	Make the fags kiss and lick your shoes even more, than kick that fag
even harder and longer.
	This combination of trying to worship and please those shoes, the
very objects which are in one split-second going to be used as a
weapon of torture against it, over and over and over again, this is
one of the greatest forms of training and mind-control that you can
use upon a faggot.
	So kick your faggot whenever the fuck you feel like it.
	Kick your fag because you fucking can.


I now have that shoe fag [see Part 8 of these essays] working
part-time in our frat house. He cleans and polishes and organizes the
shoes of our frat members. Such is our frat collection of fine shoes
that the fag's off days are kept pretty busy at the humble and
humiliating task of maintaining them. Plus our fraternity is actually
noticed for the high quality of its spruced up footwear.
	The reason why this is so (fags) just like our use of cigars (fags),
is now generally known along the campus grapevine. I consider any kind
of publicity, negative or positive, simply good advertising.  So of
course, we always get the wanna-be fag who approaches us and offers
his services to clean our shoes as a way of getting close to our frat,
because he's heard about what we do to fags like him.
	And he WANTS it.


Funny thing is, our official shoe fag wasn't ALWAYS so attracted to shoes.
	Oh he was definitely a cocksucker. Definitely a submissive little
twerp. But he just HAPPENED to work in a shoe store.
 	Little did he know that what seemed to be just a 9-5 job in a
shopping mall shoe outlet, would lead to his life's calling.
	Sure, he began to find it thrilling to be crouched down at the feet
of some snotty skateboarding kid who wanted to try on about ten
different designer sneakers. He liked smelling the odors of their
feet. He volunteered to lace them up, and liked feeling the heat of
their feet so near his crotch, and being in a position all day where
he could almost see up the legs of their baggy shorts.  All this gave
the shoe fag dreams.
	How could he know that a superior man like me would come along and
make him a complete and total SLAVE to men and shoes plus an
everyready cocksucker to real men?


To begin with, to emphasize his special classification as a shoe
faggot, I would make him strip naked around the frat house while he's
serving us.
	Totally naked.
	EXCEPT I would make him wear ONLY shoes.
	This looks so freaky and funny, watching a naked little shaved-dick
fag clomping and crawling around the frat house in just patten-leather
business shoes -- and nothing else-- that it not only gets laughs from
the other men, but also the other naked fags were snickering at him.
	Sometimes some of the guys would jack off their cumloads into his
shoes and make him wear them and they'd laugh at the squish-squish
sound of the shoes while the stupid slave walked around in their soppy
cumloads all day long.
	They even will tell him to suck their cocks and that the only thing
he will have to polish their shoes with is the cum that he can spit
out of his mouth. The poor fag is torn between swallowing all that
precious tiger cum it craves, or doing a good job making sure all his
Masters's shoes are cum-polished superbly.



One day I dropped by over at the shoe fag's apartment.
	His life had really changed since I'd made him lick his first shoes
and suck a real man's cock.
	The cock-crazy fag was was now living naked amid an apartment FULL of
shoes. Piles of them. You couldn't see the floor for all the shoes
he'd accumulated. I imagined each pair of shoes had some sort of crazy
faggot cocksucker story attached to them in someway.  The shoe faggot
had once confessed to me that he used to beg homeless people and
skateboard boys that he would give them blowjobs if they would give
them their shoes. These were some of the rankest stinkiest dingiest
shoes that anybody had ever tossed in the trash. I swear his obession
had probably gotten so huge that he'd probably bought the shoes off
street beggars just so he could live among them!
	I noticed he slept naked on a sofa in the living room, and the sofa
was heaped with shoes (plus the occasional dirty sock or jockstrap).
	Yet the shoe-fag seemed so proud to show me all this as he crawled
around his collection of footwear. He said a lot of skaterboys came
into his shop to get new shoes and they would always leave their old
pairs to throw away. So of course the perv would ferret them away to
take them home at night, imagining a gang of those skaterboyz smearing
his face in their funky shoes. 		He didn't even bat an eye of shame
when he demonstrated that he liked to put his food inside a shoe and
use them as sort of bowls and containers for his fag food nowadays,
eating the food along with the funky footsmell of its former teenage
wearers.  He said now it was sort of like a special condiment that he
enjoyed with all his food, that shoe funk.
	Finally, he proudly crawled through the hallway lined with tattered
shoes, led me into his bedroom.
	Well, really it was no longer a bedroom.
	It had been made over into a shrine to shoes, a sanctified grotto for
worshipping the footwear of real men.
	Crawling, he led me over to a dresser where there was a mirror.
Around this mirror were some votive candles. A picture of me. His
set-up for listening to Fag-Radio.
	And in the center of these was a pristine pair of the exact make and
model of the very first pair of sneakers I'd had him buy me when we
first met and I had turned him into a total fag forever.
	He proudly showed them to me and told me that he worshipped these
particular shoes three times a day, listening repeatedly to fag-radio,
 imagining I was standing in them, sometimes even stepping on his face
or stamping on his little dick.  He said he liked to keep them
perfectly preserved and it was only during this "worship services"
that he politely kissed the toe of each shoe in honor of me, and the
path of true servitude down which I had lead him.
	He hunkered down at my real shoes with my real feet inside them. He
didn't say a word but it was funny seeing the utter abject desperate
supplication in the stupid faggot's eyes.
	Begging.
	Pleading.
	Faggy.
	I let him whimper and grovel there for a while, his little dick
quivering in dripping agony of suspense.
	Finally I said, "okay, go ahead. worship'em faggot. Worship a real
man's shoes."
	I swear i think the shoe fag came right there.
	His whole body rippled, gushed, flushed,orgasmed, turned inside-out
in convulsions of release, all the while gratefully shellacking my
shoes with his slobber while every fiber tremored with some shivers of
weird wanton faggot pleasure, a freaky perverted pleasure that I guess
only fags can know.
	I pulled out my dick and decided to give the fag my cum.
	But I wanted something that the fag would savor longer than just one
swallow of my hot load.
	Instead I grabbed the perfectly kept shoes on his dresser altar, had
him hold'em out like an offering while he watched my cock splash load
after creamy load of all over them.
	He watched in a mixture of horror and delight.
	It was a sort of blasphemy to defile these honored shoes with cum,
yet I was, after all, this fag's God.
	Now he'd not only have my shoes, but also my taste and smells of
manhood to worship.
	He seemed confused, grateful, ecstatic. Blissful over the blessing of my cum.
	Just to give him even more to remember me by, I gave him a swift kick
in the face, and when he tumbled over, I kicked him twice in the
balls, leaving the fag doubled-up and howling.
	As I was leaving I reminded him to make sure he was at the frat house
to do his weekly shoe-duty there.
	Frankly, faggots and their weird perverted ways never cease to
disgust me, but I just love using and abusing the shit out of 'em.
Shoes are a great way to do that!!



All the same, I would advise almost any beginning faggot who hasn't
yet found the masters to serve, the earnest and eager fag who craves
to practice worship, service, and submissiveness, that the fag might
get a pair of extra-large shoes and put them away on its fag altar,
and make it its daily practice to have those shoes at eye-level,
imagining somehow worshipping the master of its dreams.
	It could be one of those important steps in concentrating your fag
mind enough towards eventually moving to worship a real master -- from
his shoes to his cock.


See, shoes can be a sort of Master in absentia.
	So, for any doms who might have to be away on business for awhile,
but want to make sure you keep your pussyboy on a short leash....
	Well, for one thing, you might just consider putting your pussyboy on
a short leash (ha ha!).
	But to also ensure your perpetual mental domination of your fag. why
not leave behind a pair of your smelliest shoes for the fag to
worship?
	Tell the fag he must inhale them for an hour daily, getting himself
lost in the memories of servitude to you. Or hell, even insisting that
the fag sleep all night with one shoe tied to its face, so that it is
inhaling your "essence" all night long, no doubt dreaming of serving
you.



BTW, this whole thing put me in mind of my training Fag Deere, and so
I just now took a pair of my worn out track shoes and had one of my
other fags take them directly to Fag Deere's office.
	The fag was given instructions to tell Fag Deere just how the shoes
were to be used.
	Yes, the shoes were to be worshipped at Fag Deere's altar of me, but
yes, also, one shoe, alternating each night, was to be tied to his
face, nose deep into the insoles, were to be tied to his face at night
while he slept so that his nights would be spent inhaling the feet he
so desired to grovel at. When he prepared his sandwiches for work, he
was to bring his lunch to work stuffed in my shoes and keep them in
his desk drawers and smell them whenever possible.
	 I also told my messenger fag to tell Fag Deere that he was to do his
shoe practice at the same time he was still practicing with his dildos
worship at home, so he'd get the full effect of total immersion into
servitude of the cocks of real men.
	The messenger fag just now came back and told me Fag Deere turned
livid white with embarrassment and shame, even at the very fact that
another fag was passing on my orders to him, so obviously what had
been his precious secret was already known to some people.
	But this was all just part of one of the many steps Fag Deere was
taking to lower him to his natural level of total depravity and
servitude.


Tomorrow I'm going to pay Fag Deere a visit and have him take a real
real close look at the brand new shoes that one of my fags off the
internet just bought me. I think he'll get a kick out of it.  :)


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INSTRUCTIONS AND EXPLANATIONS FOR FAGS AND THEIR MASTERS

Essentially FagRadio is this: it is a sort of guided meditation about
cocksucking and being a fag, and subservience, and obedience, and
making sure that superior men are always served and receive pleasure.

It is about 45 minutes of a recording made by me, a superior male,
telling a cocksucker (like Cuntface, or Fag Gifford, or Geek Fag or
the Wednesday night cocksucker) who
and what he is, and how he should go about it, and what he should be
more focussed on because he is just a fag. He is a fag, he was born a
fag, and always will be nothing but a fag. And he will be much happier
once he learns to accept it. This is a recording that a faggot might
play in his ears when he goes to sleep at night, or even while he is
out jogging, or even when he is sucking on superior guy's cock for
long periods of time.


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Any fag$ that wanna $how their appreciation to a $uperior alpha male
like my$elf, feel free to $how me your appreciation at paypal
(cameronbrock3@gmail) and/or $how me your gratitude by getting me
something off my gift list at amazon under cameronbrock3@gmail.com.


If you $end me an email at cameronbrock3@gmail.com just remember I
don't wa$te time just playing with fags who don't know how to $how
their immediate and con$tant appreciation.

Hell, even send some donation to Nifty.org for even giving you the
ability to fanta$ize your $icko fantasies like Dean Deere.