Date: Sat, 4 Dec 2010 19:44:08 -0800 (PST) From: Vincent Vincent Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 19 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 19 The fagdad had to admit that his fagboy's hole was ripe for fucking. As he kept trying to lube it up for the fuck, the hole repeatedly grabbed at his tongue. The fagboy's breathing was fast and shallow, desperately trying to get his prostate to release. Eventually he felt the hole was wet enough for Master's fuck and crawled away, back to the corner where he would have to witness the fuck of his son. The fagdad couldn't fathom how well their Master had anticipated his every move. Slowly orchestrating and manipulating everything so that Tyler and Alexi would end up right here where the two of them started, in the Master bedroom with Ty on his knees, witnessing the fuck of someone dear to him. First it was the fantasy of Alexi fucking Tyler's wife; now it was the reality of Master fucking the fagdad's fagboy. The fagdad watched as Master positioned Himself on top of His fagboy, His erection barely grazing the boy's grasping hole, his literal snatch. Master gave a stage whisper into the fagboy's ear. "You need to be fucked, don't you, fagboy." The fagboy was beyond words now, only able to nod. "Of course you do; this is what fagboys were born to do. To get pleasure from a man's cock. "Look back there, in the corner, at the fagdad. That's not a man back there, boy; it's a faggot. A faggot just like you. A dickless parasite needing a man's cock, just like you. Does the fagboy agree?" The fagboy nodded, eyes downcast. "I don't hear my fagboy's answer." "Yes, Master. A faggot just like me, Master." "Now listen carefully, bitch. A faggot like that, he can't be man enough to be a daddy, can he?" The fagboy looked deep into Master's eyes and knew the answer he was supposed to give. "No, Master, he can't." "I agree. A daddy is somebody strong and dependable, somebody who creates a home for you. The man who gave you life. And the fagboy has somebody who is all that, don't you?" "Yes, Master, I do." "Then be a smart fagboy, do the right thing, and beg your daddy to fuck you." The fagboy's soul pleaded out of his eyes, looking deep into Master's heart. "Please, Daddy, oh god, please fuck your fagboy. Please let me grab onto your magnificent prick, Daddy. I need you so goddamn bad, please, Daddy, fuck your boy." The fagboy lost coherency at that point and merely moaned as he thrust his hole against his Master's hard-on. Tyler's shame was complete. He was no longer a man. He was no longer a father to his son. He was simply a fagdad working beside a fagboy to serve and pleasure the Men of what was once his home. He shivered, wanting to be anywhere but here, watching the rape of the boy who had been his son. But also knowing this was exactly where he belonged. He watched his Master slide His cock into His fagboy's gaping hole. The fagboy clenched onto that prick and seemed to pull it in without Master's help. All Master had to do was lie on top of him. The fagboy instinctively did all the work, grabbing, pulling, releasing, acting like a total pussy against Master's cock. Master moaned as he slid ever deeper into His fagboy's hole. The fagboy's moans intensified. Although the fagdad couldn't see the fagboy's caged cock, he knew it had to be rock hard even though the pricks were biting into it. The fagboy's face was contorted into a maze of pain and pleasure. It was a beautiful thing to see. His moans were also a mix of the two reactions, as if each were feeding upon the other. Master apparently wanted to increase all the sensations dancing in His fagboy's brain because He scrunched down and started to bite the fagboy's right nipple. The fagboy's short breaths and moans stopped immediately and became one constant wail as his limbs trembled as if in seizure. The fagdad had never witnessed anything like this before, such naked primal sexuality. "Oh, God, thank you, Master, thank you Daddy, oh God..." the fagboy repeated like a mantra, his pitch inching higher and higher, indicating his nearness to orgasm. Master played the boy like a fiddle, subtly changing position of His cock or the depth of His bite to fine-tune the fagboy's responses. Yes, this was a real Man's fuck. For the fagdad to have fucked the boy would have been an insult to Men everywhere. This is how it should be done. This is what the fagboy deserved. The fagboy started to shudder. His limbs were stretched and stiff and he seemed to be on the very edge of cumming. Master sadistically stopped, completely motionless atop the fagboy. Ryan wailed, "No..... Please, Master." "Beg for me to finish you off, cuntboy. Beg for Me to let you cum." Ryan screamed "Oh, GOD, PLEASE, MASTER?? Please fuck me harder and allow Me to cum??? MASTER, I'll do fucking anything .... Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...." Master laughed, shrugged His shoulders, and resumed fucking the hole. "Oh GOD, Thank YOU, MASTER. Oh Yes, Oh yes, OH YES...." And the fagboy convulsed around his Master's cock, screaming his moans of pleasure as he came. Master kept the fucking going and shot up His fagboy's hole moments later, adding a second wave of pleasure to slide through the fagboy's guts. The fagboy collapsed in gratitude, mumbling "thank you, Master" and "thank you, Daddy" over and over again. Once the fagboy's trembling ceased, Master got up. "I want my fagdad to climb up here. Lick the bitch's cum from my gut." The fagdad climbed onto the bed and sucked Master's flesh clean. "Now clean up his cum and then eat out my seed from his pussy." The fagdad slid in front of his fagboy and sucked all around the fagdick, pulling up thick chunks of cum that the boy pushed out of his caged cock. The fagdad slid his tongue inside the cage, licking the fagdick clean of the boy's scum. Once clean, he lowered his head to the kid's leaky hole, slurping up Master's seed. The fuckhole convulsed at the intrusion, opening up to reveal more cum and juice inside. The fagdad ate greedily, loving the taste of Master and His fagboy. He was so lost in the act of being the clean-up bitch, he hadn't realized Master had gotten up from the bed. The fagdad heard his Master behind him. "I'm not done fucking." The fagdad arched his back in offering. "Yes, Master. Please fuck Your bitch, Master. Please show me who's the Man here, Master." Master's prick was still wet from fucking the fagboy, so there wasn't much need for lube. It was still a rough thrust to start the fuck of the fagdad's hole. The fagdad moaned up his fagboy's fuckhole as his rape began. Raped in front of who was once his son. If Master's rape of His fagboy had seemed somewhat tender, then His use of the fagdad was all the more brutal. Maybe it was because of what He'd heard from Mitchell and Duncan. Maybe it was because of their initial discussion many weeks ago. Maybe it was the pitiful appearance of a sobbing fagdad compared to the beautiful sensuality of a fagboy's whoredom. For whatever reason, there was no kindness to Master's assault. The fagdad was being fucked hard, brutally, and without mercy. It was all he fucking deserved. He was finding his place as Master's fuckbitch. A hole to be used and despised for its use. A bitch to be slapped around, beaten, ripped apart both physically and emotionally. The fagdad couldn't help but further arch his back and push backward into his Master's thrusts, making them even more brutal. His body screamed inside his brain, but whether that scream was pain, pleasure, or simple validation was anybody's guess. The fagdad's screams became vocal, crying into his fagboy's hole as it grasped and tried to pleasure itself against his tongue. Fuck, even his boy was using him for pleasure. That's all he fucking was, all he ever could be: a vessel to be used by others. Men, slaves, it didn't matter. As long as he had a purpose. As long as he made someone feel good. As long as he suffered in the process. The fagdad's whole body began to tremble, inching closer to some unknowable goal. It didn't feel like an orgasm; his cock was completely soft inside its agonizing cage. This was something far deeper inside his skull. Some epiphany, some revelation. His soul was soaring, flying, freed by his masochistic euphoria. It was salvation. And it was now his. "Thank you, Master .... Oh God, please, Master, use Your bitch harder. Slap it around, Master ..." As he flew ever higher, his voice got louder and he nearly screamed with his tongue still buried and being used as a dildo by his fagboy's fuckhole. "Yes, Master. Oh GOD...." The fagdad trembled as he felt his Master shoot His second load deep into his guts. "Thank You, Thank You, Thank You..." he sobbed into his boy's hole, deeply tonguing it to give the fagboy as much pleasure as he could. He felt the fuckhole being pulled out from under him. Master was unlocking the restraints at the fagboy's wrists and ankles. "The fagboy needs to get the fuck out of here and take care of Mitchell and Duncan. The fagdad needs to clean up this mess and crawl into the cell. I don't want to see either one of your pathetic faces until breakfast tomorrow morning."