Date: Mon, 22 Mar 2010 23:17:34 +0000
From: scotland calling <braghaidalbainn@gmail.com>
Subject: A Man and his fag

A Man and his fag*,
*by fatsow*

M/m, Humil.
This is my first story, so please bear that in mind while reading!
Disclaimer: The story is fictionalised, contains descriptions of sex and is
here for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY. If you are not an adult, stop
reading. If reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, read no further.
If you read further, you accept that you wilfully gained access to this
material, that you are an adult aged 21 years old or older and that this
story does not offend the standards or violate any law in your area.*

They had agreed to meet in the main square at 12.30pm but he had arrived
early as he didn't want to upset the man by having him wait. He had walked
around the square several times while waiting for the man to appear. It was
some time after 12.30 by now, but if the man chose to arrive late or to send
a text postponing the meeting, as he had done the previous day, then that
was his privilege. He was a man. His wishes mattered.

Suddenly he heard the words, "Hello fag." in his right ear.

Was it loud enough for those nearby to have heard? He wasn't sure but it
didn't really matter. He had recognised the voice. That of the man he had
travelled hundreds of miles to meet.

The man who had cruised him on the internet five years before and who had
afterwards had him serve on cam whenever the man wished it. The man who had
groomed him until he was trained to obey and ready to submit and be used in
person. The man he freely acknowledged as superior to him. The man who he
had met two years ago to serve, in person. The man that he had travelled to
serve again last year.

The man who was young enough to be his son but who dominated his will, who
knew how he thought, how he felt. The man who owned him.

To a passing stranger the man looked as if he just met his uncle. The
`uncle' though was a fag: extremely servile, completely submissive, docile
and obedient. The man, the young man, was a generation younger but it was he
who was the dominant. He was also slim, attractive and intelligent. His fag
on the other hand, was older and was chubby, but that didn't matter to the
man.

He had found out shortly after cruising the fag in a chat room that the
older guy knew his status and was anxious to serve, to please and to worship
a dominant man. The fact that he was out of condition wasn't that important.
What was important was his mental state not his physical state. This fag,
although a fat sow, was aware of his place and that he was the man's
property. He accepted his condition as an inferior and the constant
humiliation that went with it.

"Hello Master." croaked the fag, taking the chance to admire again the man
who so easily dominated him.

That pleasure didn't last long though as the man said, "The Metro fag." and
strode off.

His fag followed, respectfully one step behind. Once on the train the man
stayed standing but chose to stand next an empty seat. His fag was confused.
He couldn't possibly sit if the man was standing. The man gestured to him
and then pointed at the seat. So his fag sat and quickly found out what the
man was thinking. The train was busy and the other passengers probably
thought the the young man had kindly offered his uncle one of the few free
seats.

As soon as his fag had sat down however, the man shifted round so that he
was between his fag and the rest of the carriage. The man was standing. He
was standing facing his fag. He was facing his fag with his crotch at his
fag's eye level. His fag knew what was behind the fabric. He had first seen
it five years before. He had first felt it two years before. He desperately
wanted to see it now. The fabric brushed his cheek as other passengers
jostled past the man to get on or off.

Did any of the other passengers notice? It didn't really matter. The fabric
brushed his lips. The man made sure of that. The fag tried not to drool as
he suffered this mental torture. Mental torture though nothing was
happening. Mental torture because nothing was happening. Their stop arrived
and the man and his fag got off the train.

His fag knew the way to the hotel where he was staying and so they walked
down the road side by side. They got to the hotel and went up the stairs to
the first floor. Just before they got to the fag's room they passed a
cleaning lady. She looked a little surprised to see them there in the early
afternoon. The man exchanged pleasantries with the cleaning lady which
forced his fag to stand and wait for him.

The man threw a glance at his fag. The fag blushed. The cleaning lady
couldn't know, could she? It didn't really matter.

The man smiled and joined his fag outside the door to its room. His fag
unlocked the door and stood aside to let the Master in and then followed
him. The Master went over to the armchair in the corner and sat down.

His fag went over to the wardrobe and as it was taking its jacket off he
heard the Master order, "Get naked fag."

It started to undress but the Master barked, "Quickly fag."

It tore its clothes off and threw them to the ground. Shirt, trousers,
pants, shoes, socks all lay in a heap. Then it scuttled over to the Master
and knelt, head down, between his feet.

"Thank you Master. Thank you for agreeing to let me meet you again Master.
It is a privilege and an honour to be allowed to meet you again Master.'" it
babbled.

Very softly the Master said, " Open my trousers scum."

His fag looked up and saw the Master had already unzipped his fly, but had
left the top button still done up. The fag opened the button and pulled the
trousers open. The Master was wearing a pair of tight, white trunks, made
even tighter by the bulge in the front. They suited his lean, sparse frame
perfectly. His fag could feel the man smiling at him as looked longingly at
the bulge. The Master leant forward.

"Go on." he almost whispered in his fag's ear, and his fag nervously reached
out towards the Master's waistband.

As it did so, the Master reached down to his fag's tits. His fag had fat,
stubby tits and the Master took them in his fingers and squeezed hard. The
pain jolted through the fag and it hesitated.

"Go on." repeated the Master smiling.

Still squeezing, the Master pulled his fag's tits upwards. The fag's mind
was confused.

"Go on." the Master said again, still smiling.

This time his voice cut through the fog in his fag's mind and it pulled down
the waistband. The Master's long, uncut and beautifully proportioned cock
sprang out. It's beauty hypnotised him. It stared at the Master's cock and
the fag's mind flashed back to the first time that the Master had allowed it
to see his cock on cam. Rarely if ever had the fag ever seen anything as
gorgeous, even in a picture. It had seen it close up before, but it had not
remembered just how painfully perfect it looked in the flesh.

"Please Master, please may I taste your cock Master. Please." grovelled the
fag.

"I want to hear you beg for it fag." was all the Master said in reply.

"Please Master, please, please I beg you. Please let me taste your cock.
Please Master I beg you." wailed the fag.

"Kiss it." the Master said.

His fag kissed the head.

"Now you may taste it." added the Master, releasing his fag's tits and
settling back to get comfortable.

The fag opened its mouth and slowly slipped it over the Master's twitching
cock. Sliding down the whole length. Down until its nose was nestling in the
Master's pubes and the Master's cock was snug in its throat. The Master
gently cupped one hand behind his fag's head. Then he pulled. As he did so
he raised his pelvis. The fag was speared, its throat was filled. After a
while the Master relaxed and his fag came up for air.

As it gulped, and as the slime from its throat glistened on the Master's
cock, the Master leant forward to ask him, "Did it taste good fag?"

"Yes Master." it replied.

"Better than last time?"

"Even better Master."

"You must like cheese." the Master said.

His fag was confused and looked at the Master with a puzzled expression. The
Master grinned and slowly peeled back his foreskin. Underneath it, all round
the head, sticking to it, were lumps of white. Cock cheese. The fag knew
what it had to do. It bent forward and slowly licked the Master's cock head
clean. After licking the head, it began licking the shaft.

"Kneel fag." said the man.

His fag knelt, head down on the floor between the Master's feet. The Master
rested a foot on the back of his footstool fag. Then the other, then both.
Then he applied weight. His fag just knelt there, a piece of furniture for
the Master. Then the fag felt the weight reduce and it sensed the Master
stand up. It could see the Master's trainers out of the corner of its eye.
The Master shucked his trainers, stepped past his fag and after a brief
pause sat down again.

"Up." he said.

His fag raised its head again and saw that the Master had taken his trousers
and pants off.

"I want you to worship it as if it was the very cause of your existence. I
want to feel you worship it as you have never worshipped anything so much in
your life."

His fag got to work. Lovingly and reverently it worshipped the Master's cock
as if its very being depended on it. Which in a way it did, since the Master
gave his fag's existence meaning. It licked the head, it licked the shaft.
It sucked the head and flicked its tongue over the slit. It slid down the
shaft and sucked backed up its length. It did this again and again.

After a while the Master tapped his fag on the back of its head and his fag
obediently slid its mouth down the Master's cock once more. Again cupping
his hand round the back of his fag's head, the Master slowly rocked his hips
back and forth, filling his fag's throat as he took his pleasure. His fag
started to gag after a bit and the Master removed his hand.

His fag came up for air to hear the Master say, "The balls fag."

The fag went back down. It started licking the Master's balls. First one,
then the other. Long, slow strokes of the tongue. Then taking each one into
its mouth in turn, slowly swirling its tongue round them.

"Enjoying it fag?" asked the Master.

"Yes Master."

"It get's better scum. I'm going to let you be my toilet paper. Would you
like that fag?"

"Yes Master."

"Then beg for it scum."

"Please Master, please, please I beg you. Please let me be your toilet
paper. Please Master I beg you."

The Master shifted forward in the armchair, raised his legs and draped them
over the arms of the chair. His fag shuffled forward on its knees and buried
its mouth in the black, wiry coils of the hair round the Master's arse. It
kissed the Master's arse.

"Smell good scum?" the Master asked.

"Yes Master." replied the fag. It licked the Master's arse. Long, slow
strokes. It felt the Master's arse flutter under his tongue as it pressed
harder.

"Feel good fag?" asked the Master.

His fag replied but by now what it said was smothered by the fact that its
lips were pressed against the Master's arse.
*
This story is copyright 2010 by fatsow. You may download and keep a copy for
personal use if the author's byline and this paragraph remain on the copy.
Please do not post this sory to any other web site without the author's
permission. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the contents is
permitted. Feedback is welcome. Flames are ignored. fatsow can be reached at
the address on this story.*