Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2012 23:11:43 -0700 (PDT) From: JH Subject: Accepted at Last Ch. 2 This is my first story, so all feedback is welcome. Contact info is at the end of this installment. Please remember that you have to be 18 or older to read this, and that this is totally a work of fiction; nothing is intended to represent real persons or places, that Nifty needs our donations and support to continue, and for fuck's sake, wear a condom with every play date! ------------------------------------------------ Accepted at Last, Ch.2 By: Hunter Stearns Boss looked around with his hands folded behind his head, enjoying his newfound power. He grinned crookedly as I, humiliated on my knees in just my green thong, rubbed and reluctantly sniffed his rank feet. I gagged slightly at the odor when he pushed his toes up under my nose. "Okay, faggot," Boss grunted as he reached for the laptop that lay on the end table next to the chair, "what's your password? I want to see what kind of shit you like." After I told him the password, he switched and placed his left foot into my hands for a massage, placing his right toes into my mouth and ordered me to suck his toes. I have no clue why, but in doing this, my cock started to rise and push my thong pouch outward. Hopefully, because he was concentrating on my laptop, Boss wouldn't notice this. I know it would just fuel his sadism, and my shame. Boss was clacking away at the keyboard, doing god knows what, for about 45 minutes before he kicked me off of his feet and closed the laptop. "Alright, cocksucker, your sick imagination gave me some great ideas! Now, go get me another beer." As I began to stand, Boss kicked me back to my knees and reminded me to crawl like the bitch I am. I crawled awkwardly toward the kitchen because the effects of drinking still hadn't subsided, even though my adrenaline was pumping in overdrive. I grabbed a beer and a glass, then returned on my knees to him. Boss grabbed the beer bottle from my hand and told me to hang onto the glass because I may need it later, and besides, real men don't sip from an open glass, they gulp from the bottle. I hung my head. "Alright, faggot, I've thought of some new house rules for MY home. If you would like to stay here, I would suggest you follow them EXACTLY! Understood?" I nodded slowly. "Rule number 1) Faggots do not deserve to wear clothing inside this loft, and any opportunity for you, a faggot, to wear clothing is strictly at my discretion. For instance, your silly ass clown thong entertains me right now, which is why you're allowed to wear it, but it's not a right. You will strip as soon as you get back from work, and you will not dress again until you are prepared to leave." I could handle that one. I enjoyed being naked in my apartment from time to time before this evening, so I think I could do it for him. "Rule number 2) Faggot ass will not touch anything in this apartment, not even the carpet. Starting right now, you will squat, or stand. Those are your options." I quickly and not-so-gracefully stood to my feet. "Rule number 3) Faggots will never stand higher than their superiors in this household!" I quickly fell to the squatting position, grimacing as the movement pulled my thong string taut against my asshole. He laughed. "Number 4) Faggots are allowed absolutely zero privacy. You will ask permission to piss, shit, jack off, eat, sleep, watch tv? anything. You will be watched or recorded when performing the most private of acts, and I will reap the rewards. There are tons of fags out there in internet land who would love to pay me top dollar for pics and vids of you doing your deeds." "Finally, rule number 5) You are expected to do as told, when told. I am allowed to alter the rules whenever and however I wish, with or without notifying you. You are not my top priority, but I am yours." By this time, I was fighting back tears. I was hoping and praying that this kid wasn't serious, that he would be gone by the morning and I would have my life move forward as normal. All of my hoping was only that-hoping. Boss demanded that I show him to my bedroom. I crawled, and he walked extremely closely, "accidentally" kicking between my legs, telling me to speed up. When we arrived, he waved me to the corner to squat and watch as he went through my things. Everything was emptied from my dressers and closet into a pile on the middle of the floor. At that point, he gave me very clear directions. "Okay, faggot, test number one to see if you want to still live here. You're going to go through each and every article of clothing in this pile and shred it, and each time you will tell me something extremely personal. Remember, you have no privacy here anymore." That was a huge pile! I needed to think of a lot. I picked up a thin, worn, white undershirt and looked at Boss, shaking slightly, "Boss, I-" "Rule Number 6, Faggot) You will refer to yourself as cocksucker, and always in the third person!" Boss bellowed. "- Cocksucker" I croaked, "douched before going to the bar tonight" I was red from head to toe having said that to a complete stranger. "Boss, Cocksucker hasn't been with another man in over eight months." I hadn't realized how many clothes I had until this moment. Boss allowed me to not rip up a few items- one suit for work, and a couple of my more skimpy pairs of underwear. He commanded me to grab a bag and fill it with the shreds to be discarded in the trash chute. Just as I was finishing, I heard the buzzer and froze solid in my actions. Someone was here, and I never get visitors! Much less at 4am! "Go answer the door, fag. Lets see who would possibly be here at this hour." Boss stated rather calmly as he pulled one of my belts from the hooks on the wall. To be continued... ------------------------------------------ Any advice as to how the story should go in the next segment? If you're liking it or not, Please email me with comments and criticism! This is my first story for nifty and I'm pretty excited to continue it. Son_of_the_stars@yahoo-dot-com Put the story title in the subject line so that I don't accidentally delete it!