Date: Fri, 3 Dec 2010 22:22:08 -0800 (PST) From: Vincent Vincent Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 18 First, the disclaimers. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, Copyright 2010. The narrative that follows did not happen to me or to anyone else I know. The characters in the story, like myself, are all of legal age. Don't contact Me to meet these slaves. DO contact Me if you want to become one of these slaves. Also contact me with any praise, criticism, or suggestions. All feedback is good. Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 18 The remainder of the weekend fell into place just as Alexi had planned it. He was very pleased with his work. Sunday saw the fagdad accompanying Mitchell and Duncan to their frathouse to pack all their belongings. The three men of the house discussed the fagdad's availability for the rest of the frathouse and decided he should be off-limits until he healed from the abuse Duncan provided on Saturday night; the frat could make use of fagdad another time. Meanwhile, the fagboy was hard at work at Alexi's apartment, packing up his stuff and moving it into his new home. Alexi maintained the same protocols for breakfast as the day before, but on Sunday night he laid down the laws for all future dinners. "As much as We love having Our asses kissed by faggots, slaves can be far more productive during the meal. "First off, all three of us," Alexi motioned to include the fratboys, "hope to have access to a faggot urinal whenever our bladders get full. But if one isn't available, or if we just don't want to make use of one, we'll use the faggots' dogbowl to relieve ourselves. The piss we provide here serves a purpose; during the day, don't drink it or dispose of it. "During dinner, our plates should be kept full at all times. As soon as anything on our plate gets low -- meat, vegetables, dessert, even the drinks in our glasses -- it should be immediately replenished by one of the faggots. None of us should have to request anything at any time. "When we leave the table, whatever is remaining on our plate gets scraped into the faggots' dog bowl to marinate in the piss that we've provided during the day. When all three of our plates have been cleared, after the kitchen has been cleaned up and our beds have been turned down for the evening, the faggots are permitted to dine out of the bowl, eating our leftovers soaking in our piss. "But, if any one of us had to ask for anything during the meal, then all three plates get scraped into the trash and the faggots only get nourished by our urine that evening. I hope this provides enough incentive for you lucky whores to keep our plates full." It did. Both Sunday night and this evening, the faggots kept rapt attention on everyone's plates and glasses so that the Men could just talk among themselves without any distraction in having to ask or reach for more of anything. It was a subtle thing, but it was amazing. There was true slavery at the dinner table. There was always something to drink, always a buttered dinner roll within reach. Alexi patted himself on the back for setting this protocol into place. The fratboys thanked him as well, noticing the difference. Earlier today, Memorial Day, both faggots were busy moving the belongings of their superiors into what had previously been their bedrooms. Alexi wondered at the kind of mental trip that provided them, displacing themselves from their own bedrooms. He chuckled to himself, loving the psychological cruelty he was subjecting them to. Like taking over all of their possessions. Although he didn't display it in any way, Alexi came from a wealthy family and had plenty of his own assets. He didn't need anything from the faggots. It wasn't a matter of him taking the house; it was important that the faggots didn't have any ownership of anything, so they could understand they were mere possessions themselves. He wondered whether he should explain it to the bitches, but decided that was more information than they needed to know. Alexi had never considered himself a sadist, but the fagboy had ignited something in that first evening that was now unquenchable. Alexi recognized that he had no desire to be cruel to women, but faggots like these two, they were begging for it. Literally. And the power was just so damn intoxicating. He was also enjoying the increasing objectification of the two slaves and had begun to think of them as objects, himself. And tonight he had a new treat for the two of them. The two faggots were just finishing up their meal, piss-soaked tilapia, as he called them into the Master bedroom. The bedroom of their Master. "This change of arrangements, this plan to put you two to work over the web, means I'll no longer be whoring the fagdad out via Craigslist. So you won't be earning any more tips." He saw concern flash on the fagdad's face. "Don't worry -- this doesn't mean you'll no longer get to cum. It does mean, though, that tonight we'll cash out your tip jar and give you a few minutes of pleasure. Isn't that generous of Me?" "Yes, Master. Thank You so much for allowing the possibility of orgasm, Master." "Since you two were so happily busy moving us all in today, I took the opportunity to go to the store and pour your jar into the machine to count your tips. I'm sure you don't mind..." "Not at all, Master. Thank You, Master, for Your efficiency." "It was a surprisingly high amount. $31.75. We'll round it off to $32. I've got a pair of dice on the dresser. The fagdad should roll `em and see how much each minute of pleasure will cost you." The still-bruised faggot obeyed, rolling a 3 and a 1. "You are one lucky fagdad. At $4 a minute, you get eight minutes to push a load out of your fagnuts. From what I heard, they almost emptied themselves when Duncan was fucking the shit out of you the other night." "Yes, Master. The two of Tthem were so beautifully abusive. It was nothing i'd ever experienced before. i think i'm a painpig, Master." Alexi shrugged. "Tonight's orgasm will be a bit more conventional." He justified the lie as excusable for the goal He wanted to achieve. "Go shower and get yourself cleaned up. You stink of piss." As the fagdad crawled out of the room, Alexi pulled fagboy into the cell. Once there, he locked the faggot's wrists to its ankles and used a spreader to keep its legs wide open. Then he started fingering the fagboy's hole. "I know you love having this hole used. And nobody's slid their dick up there yet. Is the fagboy hungry for that cherry to be broken?" The kid nodded his head, hard and fast, breathing heavy as Alexi's finger slid up his hole to approach his prostate. Alexi felt the incredible soft squeeze of the fagboy's fuckhole and for the first time considered the pleasure that hole might offer. "Well, if you're lucky, that's going to happen tonight. And if you're really lucky, you'll get to cum as well. Cum by someone fucking you, with that stupid fagdick kept caged. You're going to become a fully functional pussyboy." The faggot whimpered, moaning and gasping a reply. "Thank You so much, Master, for training me to be a good pussyboy for You." Alexi heard the water shut off in the shower and walked into the bathroom as the fagdad got out of the shower. He undid the lock around the fagdad's dick. "OK, let's get you going. We don't have all night. Follow me. You are allowed to fuck for 8 minutes." Alexi heard fagdad fall to his knees and crawl behind him, through his bedroom, into his walk-in closet. Alexi stood above and looked in as the fagdad crept into the cell to find his son, the fagboy, on his back, legs spread wide, faghole grasping air as it opened and closed in anticipation. The fagboy looked up at his father and softly whined. "Please, I need the fagdad to fuck me. I need to be screwed so bad. Please, I'm begging you. Fuck your fagboy. Let me cum from your rape of my hole. PLEASE???" Alexi called into the cell. "The clock is ticking. The fagdad's got eight minutes. Don't waste `em." Alexi watched the fagdad start to stroke its dick. "No. Fuck the fagboy. That's what it's there for. To be fucked. Isn't that right? Does the fagboy agree with me?" "Oh, God, yes, Master. Please, please fuck me. I need the fagdad to fuck me!" Even though the cell's video cameras were running, Alexi used his personal camera to capture the priceless face of the fagdad. So fucking hungry to cum, but unable to cross the taboo and fuck his own son. Even while the little bitch was begging for his cock. Priceless. Alexi's cock was drooling in his pants. "Seven minutes are left for the fagdad." "Master, i can't do it. i can't fuck my son, Master." "Fuck WHO, asswipe?" "i can't fuck the fagboy, Master. Please..." The fagdad sobbed, tears rolling down its cheek. "Why not, faggot? You too proud to fuck your fagboy? Is he too much of a whore for you?" "NO, Master! i can't because....." "Because why, fuckface?" "Because..." the sobbing continued, "because i'm not man enough to fuck, Sir. Because i'm a pathetic dumbfuck fagdad." Alexi snapped the camera over and over, immortalizing the fagdad's breakdown as tears slid down its face. "Then the fagdad should do the right thing, and pull your fagboy out of there, put him on My bed, and kneel in the corner." The fagdad obeyed, sobbing hard. The fagboy tried to comfort him, but spread as he was, with his hole still twitching, there wasn't much he could do to help except to gently kiss his fagdad. Alexi followed them back into his bedroom. He sat on his bed and ran his finger up and down the fagboy's hole. The whore's breath caught and it heaved trying to grab the finger teasing its fuckhole. "The fagdad needs to look at this desperate hole. See how much it craves to be fucked?" The fagboy's eyes were watering as well, but only from the desperation the sensation caused inside it. "Are you such a cruel fagdad that you won't let your fagboy scratch this itch inside him?" The fagboy moaned and bucked against Alexi's teasing finger. "Are you?" "No, Master. He deserves the pleasure of a good fuck, Master." "Then how is the fagdad going to fix this problem?" The fagdad looked up at Alexi, still crying, eyes imploring him not to make it do what it knew it had to do. Alexi showed no mercy, staring hard back at his fagdad, his property. "Please, Master," it moaned, "Please fuck the fagboy. Please fuck my son." "That's a good little fagdad. I'm not going to grease my fuckstick, so you better get over here and lube your fagboy's hole for Me ... with your faggot tongue." The fagdad, still sobbing, crawled up on the bed and slid its tongue up its fagboy's convulsing hole, lubing it up for Master's fuck. As it did so, Alexi reached behind it and once again imprisoned its drooling fagdick.