Date: Wed, 7 Dec 2011 23:59:54 -0800 (PST)
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: The House Fag, Chapter 10

First, the basics.  This is, once again, a work of FICTION.  Real-life
considerations will take a back seat to erotic pleasure and story-telling;
this slave, these Masters do not exist.  Wanna change that?  Or just wanna
share comments/praise/criticism?  Fine: Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com

Copyright © 2011

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The House Fag, Chapter 10

Some weeks later, I'd been in my cell for a few hours after Lord Zachary
returned home from school that afternoon, so I guessed it was around dinner
time for the Men of the house.  I heard Master Thomas come in from the
garage, shouting that He brought dinner home with Him.

They had turned on the TV and were settling in to watch a game.  I was
called out of my cell.

"Hey, fag, want some dinner?"

This was extraordinary; I was usually just allowed to eat whatever They
generously left on Their plates after They'd finished and gone to bed for
the night.  I crawled out from my cell and into the family room.  Master
Thomas' movie-star smile told me They were about to have a lot of fun.  My
heart throbbed in a mad combination of lust and fear.

"I didn't think we'd have much in the way of leftovers for you tonight,
fag, so I picked up a spare burger while at the joint."

"Dad?  Did you get the fag a happy meal?"  Lord Zachary smirked.

"No, just a burger and some fries."  He tossed them on the floor at
my feet.  I stared at the wrapped fast food and suddenly recognized how
long it had been since I'd had the pleasure of warm food in my mouth.
Everything I'd eaten for months now had been tepid, lukewarm, mere remnants
of Master Thomas' fine cooking.  Apparently what they said about firemen
was true; He was a great chef.  But by the time I got to eat it, it was
only a recollection of the flavor it must have held earlier.

Even though My mouth was watering for this cheap burger, I'd finally
learned better than to reach for what was within my grasp.  "Please, Master
Thomas, may I have the burger and fries you placed on the floor in front of
me?"

Master Thomas looked at His Son.  "Zach?  It's ok with me, but what do you
think?"

Lord Zachary shrugged.  I took that as a yes and hungrily unwrapped the
burger.  "Thank You, Lord Zachary and Master Thomas!"

As I raised the burger to my mouth, Lord Zachary reconsidered.  "Just a
moment, fag.  That's probably not such a good idea.  You've gotten so used
to the taste of us in your dinner.  That burger, without our taste in it,
will probably make you sick.  Give it to me."

I handed it over, crestfallen.  What were They going to do to me now?

Lord Zachary took a bite out of the burger, chewing it in giant,
exaggerated movements.  Once again making sure Their stupid faggot got the
point.  After about a minute of chewing, He spat it out on the tile in
front of me.  "There you go, fag.  Much better, isn't it?"

There was only one answer.  "Yes, Lord Zachary.  Thank You so much for
chewing my dinner for me, Sir.  That was very kind of you." I began sucking
up the chewed and spat bits of burger off the floor.

Master Thomas laughed.  "Good one, Zach." Zach's
eyes lit up as He ran back into His room, yelling behind Him that the fag
shouldn't take another bite until He came back.  He returned moments later,
still in His jeans and muscle-T, but now wearing his soccer cleats,
scraping them against the tile of the floor.

"Seems to me, Dad, that these places really don't tenderize their food as
much as they should.  A fag deserves its food nice and tender, doesn't
it?"

Master Thomas shrugged his shoulders.  Clearly He was letting His Son call
the shots this evening.  Lord Zachary unbuttoned His jeans and slid the bun
of the burger up and down His sweet, sweaty crack.  "First, it needs a
little extra seasoning."  He farted into the bread, wiping His hole with
what was soon to be my dinner.  Then He dropped the burger and bun onto the
floor and used His cleats to grind them into the tile.  Pulverizing my
dinner with the weight of his body and the filth of the fields where he'd
been playing earlier that day.

After many such grindings into the floor, Lord Zachary sat back down on the
sofa.  "There you go, fag.  Dinner is served." He gave a grand
flourish onto the disgusting mess spread on the floor beneath Him.

I began to crawl over as Master Thomas arose from His recliner.  "Aw, shit,
Zachary.  I forgot to get it anything to drink while I was out.  I better
fix that, huh?"  He stood above my pulverized burger and unleashed His
beautiful, massive cock to piss on His fag's dinner.

Watching all this gave me true insight into the word "belittling".  I felt
truly "be-littled": small, insignificant, a mere fleck of filth on Their
windshield, empty except as Their playtoy.  I started crying as I sucked up
my chewed-up, stomped-down, farted-on, pissed-in dinner.  How and why could
I let such Men do this to me?

And there was the answer.  Such Men.  I was lucky to be in the same room as
Such Men.  To be allowed to even look at Such Men.  To be breathing the
same air as Such Men.  It was all so fucking simple.

"And, you know, Zach, I wouldn't be much of a man if I didn't help our fag
out with the fries."  Instead of leaning back into His recliner, He sat up,
fries at His feet.  I watched, sucking up my piss- and dirt-enhanced dinner
crumbs from the tiled floor, as He began to scrunch the fries between His
hairy, fragrant toes.  "I wonder how long it's been since the fag last had
mashed potatoes, Zachary?"  The two of them laughed, bonding over the abuse
They were providing for Their fag.  Master Thomas curled the fries between
and beneath His toes and feet, turning them into complete mush.  "Once
you've licked your room-size plate clean, fag, you can have these yummy
mashed potatoes.  Then you should probably tongue-wash My son's cleats."
Lord Zachary used His toes and heels to spit them off His feet and onto the
floor with an angry clatter.

Dammit.  Even while I felt like my soul had been ripped out of me, Master
Thomas made my dick throb in its imprisonment.  I was drooling at the
thought of sucking His delicious feet clean.  I hated myself for what He
did to me.  I was nothing but a cocksucking, toe-licking, ass-worshiping
fag.  And there was nothing else I could have wanted more.

Having sucked up the last of the burger from Their floor, I crawled to
Master Thomas' recliner and moaned as I was allowed to suck the mashed
crumbs from between His toes and under His soles.  I wondered if His cock
was aroused from this abject display of power and helplessness, but from my
position on the floor, there was no way to tell as I abjectly sucked my
food from His impeccable soles.  So all I did was worship this Man and His
beautiful, delicious feet.

I continued crying, more in gratitude now, as I was ignored while They
enjoyed the game on TV, finished with the game of tormenting Their fag.
After Master Thomas' feet and Lord Zachary's cleats were cleaned up, Their
homely fag quietly crawled back into its cell, closing the door and
focusing on the screen continuously reinforcing its insignificant place in
the world.  Its insignificant place in Their world.  It shivered with the
realization of just what a lucky fag it was to have been taken in by Such
Men.