Date: Thu, 2 Feb 2012 09:52:51 -0800 (PST)
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: The House Fag, Chapter 18

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 © 2012

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The House Fag, Chapter 18


The house fag was called out of its suite by Master Thomas one morning as
He prepared Himself for another shift at the station house.  "Throw on some
clothes, fag."  I crawled back to the cell and removed my mask to put on my
one change of clothes, still filthy from over a year ago, back at that
movie theater.  I wondered what was in store for the house fag this time
while putting the mask back over my head.  "Follow me out to my 'stang in
the garage."  He popped open the trunk and popped His fag inside.

He drove awhile and parked His car, releasing open the trunk.  I was
completely disoriented and more than a little scared.  Master Thomas
dragged His fag inside a building and ordered it to strip, keeping the hood
on.  He took the clothes away, presumably back to His car, and returned a
moment later.

"Now turn around, fag.  You're going to greet My co-workers by backing in,
displaying that beautiful fagcunt for them.  Arch your fucking back and
keep those knees spread wide apart . . . .  Yes, that's it, fag.  Beg for
them to fuck you without saying a goddamn word.  Now back into the room."

This was a quiet but profound humiliation.  To finally meet these Men whom
I'd worshipped in thought for months, but as nothing but a hole for
fucking.  To be seen as nothing but a device to use to get off.  Of course,
my stupid fag-dick was dripping and semi-hard inside its constant cage.  I
could feel my hole opening up, exposing itself, aching to grab onto these
Men.

"Holy fuck."  There was some some movement at the end of the hall as the
Firemen apparently got up to see what was happening while I slowly crawled
backwards into the room to display myself in the most wanton, humiliating
way possible, silently pleading with these strangers to fuck me senseless.
Or, perhaps, to fuck some sense into me.

Once we entered the room, Master Thomas spoke to me again.  "Listen
carefully, fag.  After I finish my shift here tomorrow morning, Zach and I
are going on vacation for awhile.  The guys here at the firehouse have
volunteered to fag-sit for us while we're away.  I want there to be no
misunderstandings: these guys call ALL the shots.  Understood, fag?"

"Yes, Sir, Master Thomas, Sir.  They will all be obeyed, Sir.  Thank You,
Sir, for finding such generous Men to look after Your fag, Sir."

"Hey, fag, get over here."  An unfamiliar voice.  I followed it into the
next room.  "I need to take a leak and really just don't wanna bother
getting up."  I found His fragrant dick in front of my face and embraced
its head with my cocksucker lips.  He emptied His bladder into my stupid
faggot mouth.  I gulped down His pissload as he continued filling up my
gob.

"Yeah, Tom, it's going to be a lot of fun having a degenerate whore here
while you're gone.  I'm sure the other shifts will enjoy it as well."
Shit.  It hadn't even occurred to me.  Multiple shifts of horny Firemen to
please and service day after day.  I was the luckiest faggot on earth.  I
moaned appreciatively.  "Yeah, fag," He continued as He pulled out His cock
and shook it against my chest, splattering dregs of Fireman Piss on me,
"we're going to get along just fine."  He slapped the fag across the face
for no reason other than He wanted to.

"Thank You for Your attention, Sir."

"Shit, Tom, you think you trained this bitch?"  Now the bitch got punched
hard in the nuts.  While it doubled over in pain, it was corrected by this
unknown Fireman.  "A true fagbitch, whenever shown attention by a man, not
only thanks him, but politely asks him for more.  Got it, cuntface?"

Jesus, yes.  Holy shit, yes.  "Yes, Sir, thank You so much for showing a
stupid fag some attention.  Please, Sir, if You don't mind, could You give
it some more?"

Another slap across the face.  A pause, and then another punch in the nuts.
"Over and over again, fagbitch.  Until I get bored with bitchslapping some
smarts into your stupid head."

"Please, Sir, this faggot is so grateful for any attention You wish to
show.  Would it be too much trouble to show it some more attention, Sir?"

Another slap across the face, burning my cheeks.  "Thank You so much, Sir.
Please, Sir, could You make sure Your lesson has been learned, Sir?"

"One more, fag-hole."  Another burning, hate-infused slap across my
worthless face.  "Now I'm done.  Just kiss My fucking toes in gratitude and
shut up."  His wish was granted feverishly.  I worshipped this unseen,
unknowable Fireman's dirty smelly toes, dragging my worthless tongue
between them to suck up any grime, listening to the Men chuckle above me.
Was I doing this out of fear or out of perverted lust?  Honest answer: they
were one and the same.  My fear inflamed my sick desires, and my desires,
validating what kind of worthless whore I was, inflamed My fear that these
Men would rip apart such an inferior fagbitch.  I knew I was nothing in
comparison to Them.  A worthless fuckup, the kind of kid they beat up back
in grade school.

On top of all this, after over a year of nearly complete isolation, I was
now about to be in the constant company of my Superiors.  I felt this heavy
pull inside me to show my gratitude to Them for merely being allowed in
Their presence.  I hadn't realized just how lonely I had been until now.  I
just wanted to curl up against one of these Gods and cry in happiness that
I could have somebody to be with.  I knew better than to think I could talk
to one of Them or have anything in common with one of Them.  It wasn't
about companionship, merely company.  Merely being allowed in the same
room, even if only as an ignorant fuckhole.

Another unknown, unknowable voice from a Superior.  "Fag, get over here and
prove you're worth the trouble we're taking in watching over you."

I quickly crawled, bumping into unseen furniture, causing the Men of the
firehouse to crack up.  "Yes, Sir, how do I prove myself worthy of Your
trouble, Sir?"

"Climb on top of that coffee table you just introduced yourself to," He
said, making the others chuckle.  "That's it, now on your knees.  Arms
straight down, fists on the table like a nice fag-dog.  Hang your tongue
out and wait for one of us to wipe his ass with your buttwashing tongue, or
to drain his piss down your thirsty faggot throat.  Stay there until told
otherwise, fag."  With that, the Men went about Their day.  Once in a
while, one might stop by to put the fag to use to drink his delicious piss
or tongue his muscular ass.  One fingered its fuckhole for awhile, making
its hole dance and grab His finger in hunger.  He shoved His finger down
its throat to "suck away that disgusting fagslime."  As it moaned in
gratitude while sucking His finger like a cock, He snickered at its
depravity and hawked up some gunk to spit on its chin before joining the
other Firemen in the first room.

Remaining in this position for hours was agony.  Muscles and joints were
getting sore and cramped.  But I was more agonized at being unable to see
any of these fine-looking Men.  I couldn't see a damn thing in the hood.  I
had no idea what these Men looked like, Who was Who, or anything else.  But
I was merely a fag to use; there was no need for me to know these things.

Some time later, another Fireman spoke up.  "Lie down on the table on your
stomach, fag.  Now put those cocksucker knees on the floor where they
belong, arms over the sides of the coffee table, and be ready for
mounting."

"Yes, Sir.  Anything You wish, Sir.  Thank You, Sir.  I'm so fucking ready
to be mounted, Sir.  Please mount the fag, Sir."  He guffawed his disbelief
that there existed such a submissive fuckup fagwhore, and walked away,
leaving it as He instructed.  The hunger was all-encompassing: this
insatiable craving to be used and validated in any way by such awesome Men.
The emptiness inside was terrifying.

Hours later.  "Open up, fag.  I gotta piss."

"Mmmmmm... Oh, God, thank You so much for Your piss, Sir.  It's so fucking
delicious, Sir."

Unknown hours later, the fag was bitchslapped hard across the face.  "Thank
You, Sir, for such wonderful attention.  It means so much to a fag like me.
Please, Sir, would You be kind enough to do it again, Sir, Please?"

This depravity, this non-stop sucking-up to Superiors, continued endlessly.
I was on pins and needles, on an incredible high of fear and twisted
perversion.  There was no end to my worship of these incredible Men, my joy
in being acknowledged in any way by these Gods.

"Roll over, fag, and put your stupid head against the corner of the coffee
table, facing up.  There.  That's a good little asswipe."  A Fireman's ripe
asshole was atop my ugly face.  I used my fagbitch tongue to worshipfully
massage the crack of His ass and clean inside His delicious hole.

"Back in the mounting position, fag.  Some of us want to try out those
fag-holes."

"YES, SIR.  Thank You so much for putting these worthless holes to use,
SIR.  Mmmm. . . ."

Two cocks, one at each end.  A ripe, cut, thick cock was sliding down the
fag's throat while another cock, a giant, massive slab of meat was pushing
deep inside my guts.

"Thank You, Master Thomas, Sir, for fucking Your fag, SIR," I mouthed
around the prick in my throat, sounding like some complete idiot.  That
earned some laughter and some applause.

"Impressive, Tom.  Your fag knows your cock just by feeling it up its cunt.
Nice."

Master Thomas didn't say a fucking word.  All He did was fuck.  Hard.
Fast.  Wanting nothing more than to empty His beautiful, massive balls up
my faggot ass.

"There.  You.  Go.  Fag."  He caught his breath.  "All lubed up for My
friends.  See you when we get back, fag.  Have fun!"  He left and the Men
of the firehouse cheered.

"He ended His shift early, fag.  We got a few hours left before the next
shift comes in for their day of work.  Be sure to show them just as much
respect as you’ve shown us."

"Yes, Sir," I mouthed around His dick.  I then concentrated on tightening
and loosening my fag throat around His meat, jacking Him off with my
throat.

"Fuck, yeah, bitch.  Keep it going."  He shot within a few minutes.  I was
once again abandoned by the Firemen, They having more important things to
deal with.

It was impossible to get any sense of time.  After a while, I heard new
voices, and then some goodbyes.  I figured it was the new day's shift
change.  I was commanded on my back, holes exposed for anyone's use.  My
faggot heart throbbed just being allowed in the general presence of these
Men.  I wanted so fucking desperately to do anything to please them,
anything to hear their voices, to be acknowledged by Them in any way, even
as just a hole to fuck.  I'd never felt anything like this before.

"So here's the fagfuck we've been hearing so much about.  I guess
somebody's gotta try it out."  Somebody unzipped His fly and grabbed my
hips, pushing His cock into me all the way in one thrust.  I moaned
appreciatively and He fucked me full and hard for a good long time before
dumping His load inside me.

"Thank You, Sir, so much, for fucking a stupid fag, Sir."  That earned me a
hard bitchslap across my ugly face.  "Thank You, Sir, for showing so much
attention to a worthless cocksucker, Sir.  Would it be too much trouble to
do it again, Sir?"  The answer was another whack across the face.  "Oh,
Yes, Sir, thank You so much, Sir.  Please, Sir, is it possible to get
another, Sir?"  Whacked yet again.  "Oh, Sir, that is so kind of You, Sir.
Sir, would You mind slapping this perverted fag again, Sir?"

It went on and on for countless burning slaps across my dumb faggot face.
I was begging through tears before He finally just pushed me onto the
floor.  "Fuckin' insatiable fagwhore," He muttered as He tromped all over
the inferior trash that had just been nourished by His abuse.

Hours later, another Fireman stood in front of the stupid fag.  It heard
the unmistakable sound of piss hitting the floor in front of it.  "Suck up
my urine from the floor, bitch.  Lick up every fucking drop."  I don't
think He expected such a powerful response; I practically dove on to the
floor, mouth open, to slurp up His deliciously bitter piss.

Later still, another anonymous voice. "Hey, didn't I hear that fags love
cleaning boots?  I mean, like, really LOVE it?"

"Beats the shit out of Me, Aaron.  But we might as well have it doing
something for all the trouble we have go through to feed it."  That brought
forth a couple of chuckles, and it did comfort me to realize that these
guys knew I hadn't been fed since I got there.

I suddenly got twelve pairs of firemen boots tossed at me.  "Clean these,
faggot.  And don't take off the hood.  Just use your faggot tongue to find
and suck off any shit that's on them.  If your little faggot mouth gets
dry, the bathroom's over to your left.  Just drink from the john like a
good little fag.  When you finish those boots, and have them lined them up
pair by pair, let us know.  If we're satisfied, we'll give you another set
of boots.  But if there's any dirt on any boot, you're going to be one
extremely sorry faggot.  Understood?"

"Yes, Sir.  Thank You, Sir, for Your instruction, Sir.  It feels so good to
be of use to You generous Men, Sir."

"Shut up, fag.  Nobody wants to hear your moronic wailing.  Just get to
fucking work.  Earn your room and board, shithead."