Date: Sat, 11 Jun 2011 01:53:56 -0700 (PDT) From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com> Subject: Whittling a Fucktube, Chapter 5 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 does not exist. Wanna change that? Or just wanna share comments/praise/criticism? Fine: Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com Copyright 2011 Whittling a Fucktube, Chapter 5 Yeah, thanks, I've trained it to be a good cook. Any fucktube I train is going to have lots of worthwhile talents. For two reasons: first, of course, is to maximize My pleasure, but the second one is important, too. To give the fuckwad something to feel proud about, some sense of accomplishment and validation, you know what I mean? Great. So, where were we? Oh yeah, my "friends". Hey, fucktube, get that paper out of the printer and bring it here, ok? OK. So I tell My pretty little fucktube to be home every Friday and Saturday night in case I want to stop by. And that I might invite some friends over to be entertained as well. What I don't tell the fagbitch is that I put this posting on Craigslist. Let Me read it to you: i am Your fucktube my birth certificate has a name on it, but that is a lie. i am nothing but a fucktube for Real Men to use for their pleasure. i was born to worship cock. As a child, i stole guy's briefs (even my Dad's) and worshipped them. i would sneak peeks at Men's cocks in bathroom stalls or steal stray pubes from the toilets and play with myself, dreaming of the chance to service Real Men. A pathetic loser faggot from birth. A born degenerate, Sir. This fucktube is available for the single task of providing pleasure to Men. it is nothing but two gaping holes aching to clench around Your cock. It is available every Friday and Saturday night from 6PM until 6AM for Men like You to let out Your aggression. You had it right in high school; Men like You get Your kicks from pushing around faggots like me. So, if you want, push me around just for the hell of it. Take out Your anger and frustration on Your cuntfaced fagbitch. You are my natural Superior; i am, in every way, inferior to You. I will treat You like a king. Wanna piss down a faggot's throat? Slap it on the face and snarl at it to open wide. Wanna fuck its face? Grab its ears and don't let go. Want it to kiss Your ass? Sit on its tongue and tell it to worship and clean Your shithole while You catch a game on TV. Take pictures. Share it with Your friends. it won't give any complaint; it only gives grateful service. it is grateful for any kind of attention a Man like You is willing to show a perverted lowlife cocksucker. It doesn't matter if You're hung or not, hot or not, young or old. You are a Man, it is a faggot. Doesn't get any simpler than that, Sir. This fucktube is located at 830 NE Franklin Avenue, right off the Interstate. Just walk in and boss it around. it won't bore You with small-talk; it knows why it has a mouth. Feed it Your fluids; feed it Your disgust; feed it Your anger. Please feed Your bitch, Sir. And, Sir, if You really want to show it its place, watch it scurry after any spare change that You throw on the floor as a tip when You leave. It survives on such generosity, being too stupid and too perverted to hold down a job like You can. Your fucktube Pretty fucking brilliant, huh? Yeah, I know. And look at these photos I took of it that I posted with the ad. One of its beautiful dartboard ass, one of it's collarbone "FUCKTUBE" label, one of it being used as My fucking urinal, and one of it kneeling there, mouth wide open like a dumbfuck, with My foot half-buried inside. What, oh, how'd I know all that shit about it? I kept notes when all this first started, back at that first email. To be good at whittling, you gotta keep your eye on every little detail. In its email, it told Me what a pervert it was as a kid. The bitch really cued into the subtle and subconscious hints of depravity I slid into that first posting. And then in that first phone call, it told Me it was available at any time since it'd gotten laid off. So, yeah. That first weekend after the Craigslist posting, I spent the nights parked outside. It never even knew. I watched 15 men pull up that first Friday night. I don't know what went on inside. I kept My windows down so I'd hear if things got dangerous, but there was never a problem. Men went in and about 10 or 15 minutes later, they'd leave. I can only guess what happened when they saw its ink and its nipple-bar. I did see one never left the doorway; I guess he just stopped by to piss down its throat. Someday I should make the fucktube write it all down; that'd be a great story to publish, huh? But fuck, man, just consider what that did to its psyche. Think of how I was tearing all that bullshit away, whittling and etching into its soul. Making it available for unknown men, an unknown number of men, to use all night long. Both its holes, hell, its entire being, repeatedly reduced to an empty tube for unknown Men to plow at any time. Fuck yeah. There was no subtlety at that point. I was etching with fucking acid. Gotta use the right tool at the right time, man, you know what I mean? Heh. Yeah, I know you do. So I started with just Friday and Saturday nights. Then, after a few weeks, it was all night every night. And soon after that, 24/7. At any time, day or night, any man could march in and pound into an end of the tube. It was nothing but a service vehicle. MY service vehicle. I took care of basics like groceries. It stayed there, 24/7, always available for some stranger's cock. But the best was yet to come, man. You know we'd been at this now, this deep training, this etching away at a man and reducing him to nothing but a gaping fucktube, for months. I call it up one Monday around lunch time and give it the final test. It didn't know it was coming. It didn't even know there was a test. What'd I say? "Get a crisp, new $100 bill. Bring it to me." It didn't know the latest Craigslist postings announced the ending of its public services. Now I know the fucktube's been unemployed for months. Money's got to be tight. I've been in its home, I see how it's been scrimping and saving. And fuck, look around. It's not like I need the money. So why'd I do it? Well, to see what would happen next. Duh. Lo and behold, like fuckin' magic, the fucktube shows up, a fresh Franklin in its paw. It kneels and crawls to Me and hands the bill to Me, tears in its eyes. I don't take it. "Keep it for now. I'll want it later. Clean My pits." I sit back and let the thing drool into My armpits and suck out My sweat. I eventually pull it away from Me. "Thank You, SIR, for letting me swallow Your sweet sweat." Yeah, I know, fuckin` beautiful, man. Then I tell it to take out the trash as I head into My bedroom, pull out some cash from My safe, then head into the bathroom and take a crap. I call it in. "And bring your fuckin' money." I'm still sittin' on the john when it crawls over, Mr. Franklin in its mouth. "So, fucktube, is this from the bank account?" Nod. "Much of anything left?" It shook its head. "Willing to give Me anything I want just `cuz I want it, huh? What a sad, little fag." I am so fucking deep in its stupid little brain at this point, it doesn't say a goddamn word. It just stares at me, teary-eyed. It was actually starting to tremble. "Shit, that $100 means a lot to you, doesn't it?" The fucktube humbly nods. I sneer at the dickwad, "Let's put things in fucking perspective." I stand up and aside so it can see the wads of hundreds on top of the water tank behind Me. "See that pile of money, asswipe?" Its jaw drops as it nods, wide-eyed. "That's 250 times what you've got there, and that's just a down payment for a fagtard like you. So you see, cuntface, nothing you have, nothing you do, nothing you are is of any worth whatsoever to Men like Me. All you got that anybody's interested in is your value as a playtoy, servant, and whore. Got it?" It starts crying as it nods, looking up at Me so fucking desperately. "Now take what's left of your life, that $100 bill, and wipe My ass. Make it My fucking toilet paper. Then flush it with My dump." The faggot choked. Yeah, I don't think it ever saw that one coming. It was fucking amazing. Completely broken at that point, reduced forever into nothing but a groveling fucktube. MY groveling fucktube, cleaning My crack with what was left of its old life. I listen to the fucktube mumble as it sobs, "Thank You, Sir, for showing me my place. Thank You, Sir." I told it then those were the last words it would ever be allowed to speak to Me. The fucktube nodded, tears rolling down its cheeks. Fuckin' priceless, buddy. Fuckin' priceless. So that was when I began installing the fucktube here at My place. . . Hmm? What's that, bud? Not feelin` so well? Crap, I guess that wine really got to you. No, buddy, trust Me, you're in no shape to drive home. Go crash on the couch, pal, get a little shuteye. We'll talk more when you wake up.