Date: Mon, 27 Dec 2010 20:46:42 -0800 (PST) From: Vincent Vincent Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 29 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 29 Alexi liked talking with Buck. Older man, affluent, powerful, confident. The kind of man Alexi hoped to be as he grew older. And of course they shared an enjoyment of faggots like the fagdad. Buck just hadn't yet come across one so willing to be abused. "So you're telling me that you guys own Tyler and his son." "Well, not exactly. We own the faggots that used to be Tyler and his son. They're now just known as faggots. We've carefully stripped them of their identities, layer by layer, and brought them to what they've always wanted to be. All with their ok. We didn't coerce or force this. I want to make certain you understand that." "So what Tyler was trying to explain to us was ..." "... was that he and his son were acting under our suggestions. But they could have said no to any of this. That would have meant, though, giving up on our cocks. And you know as well as I do what a true faggot will do for cock." "Well, not yet, Alexi, but I'm starting to get the idea." "Buck, I think you've instinctively known all along. Didn't you write about how you kept thinking of Tyler's face while you were working out on the punching bag all during lunch?" "Fuck yeah. My brother said he was going to do it, and it sounded great to me. Took out all my aggression for the next week on that faggot face I put on the bag." "Not only did it have it coming, Buck, but it craved it. The fucking bitch cums from getting punched around. The harder the better. Wanna watch?" "Hell, yeah. I gotta see something like this to believe it." Alexi and Buck entered the fratboy's room, where the fagdad was mounted on the Chair. It was blindfolded so it had no way to anticipate where or when Duncan was about to punch it next. So it kept a constant constricting grip on the plug up its hole and its prick was already dripping in anticipation. Buck started to whisper, but Alexi put a finger to his lips asking Buck to keep quiet. Better to surprise the fagdad later. Meanwhile, the fagboy was deliriously lost in licking and worshipping Mitchell's feet under his desk as he chatted online. Buck shook his head in disbelief. Duncan threw a series of jabs into the fagdad's guts. It moaned, its prick throbbing in gratitude. Alexi led Bruce over to the captive faggot and nodded. "Is my voice familiar, faggot?" The fagdad trembled and nodded. "Good. That's all I want to know." Buck punched it in the face. Its grip on the plug pushed its prostate against the hard phallus and its prick leaked in response. "Jesus, what a fucking asswipe." "Let it kiss your hand in thanks, " Duncan suggested. Buck brushed his hand against its mouth and it silently sucked his fingers inside it. He could feel the softness of its gums reverently sucking his flesh. "Jesus. You pulled out its teeth?" "Every last one. It begged us to pull a tooth each day to remind it to be silent." Alexi toyed with the two eyeteeth dangling around his neck. Buck laughed, withdrawing his worshipped fingers. "So that means I can do this." He started a round of training punches against the fagdad's jaws, pushing it left and right with his assaults. The fagdad's prick throbbed even harder against the rhythmic pacing as it was brought ever closer to releasing the load within its nuts. Buck started whispering into its ear as he continued working out his fists. "I bet there's so much you want to say to me right now. Probably even more you want to ask me. And still more you are dying to beg me. But you aren't permitted to even say a goddamn word. God, that's got to be killing you, you fucking fagdad." With that, Buck threw a quick jab into its guts, pulling it off balance. "And the next time I'm here, who knows? Maybe I'll bring Frank and Buck Jr. with me. So we can all show," Buck added, pulverizing its guts, "just how much we care." Alexi left the room and went to his office to check on the replies for the fuck party he'd arranged for tonight. Buck had been invited to stay. Alexi had also invited Mike, the mechanic who'd enjoyed fucking the fagboy's ass so much, and asked him to invite his TR7 client whose cock the fagboy had worshipped. He also invited some men he'd buddied up to at the compound, looked up a few of the fagdad's old clients from whoring on Craigslist, and told Duncan and Mitchell to invite any of their frat brothers who'd like to show up. The count was up to 27. Alexi heard the moans of a fagdad's orgasm and laughed, enjoying the power he held and the clever means he'd used to train the faggots to keep needing more. He got up and pissed into their dogbowl for tonight's dinner. The thought of that made him look at the clock. He announced, "it's 5:30 now. I want to have dinner by 7." The fagslaves crawled into the kitchen moments later to begin preparing meals. "Our guest will be staying for dinner. A fourth chair needs to be set up for him. In the meantime, I think I'd like to have a drink with him out on the patio. Buck, what would you like?" "How about a Scotch? Rocks?" "We can make that happen. Scotch rocks for Buck and iced vodka for me. Duncan, Mitchell, you guys want anything?" "I'll just have a diet coke here at my desk," was Mitchell's response. "I want a beer," shouted Duncan, who was watching TV. Alexi led Buck outside, confident that all their wishes would be quickly fulfilled. The fagboy came out moments later with their drinks and quickly withdrew to assist in preparing dinner. Alexi and Buck further discussed the ins and outs of fag ownership while awaiting the meal. As dinner was being served, Alexi said he thought it appropriate if Buck was shown the same courtesy they all enjoyed during breakfast. The fagdad fell to the floor and crawled to Buck's seat, starting to sniff and lick his ass through his jeans. The men all insisted Buck strip down and enjoy, so he did, opening his hole to a fagslave's worship. The fagboy meanwhile kept his eyes on everyone's plates and glasses, making sure everyone had everything they might possibly want throughout the meal. Once the men were finished with their steaks, the leftovers were tossed in a blender to be mashed into a pulp. "Since the bitches became gumsuckers, we've had to change the protocol a little." The mash was then dumped into the piss-filled dog bowl for marinating while the faggots cleaned up. "I want the chairs in the garage arranged into a circle in the great room, facing inside," Alexi declared as he left the kitchen. He then started talking to Mitchell and Duncan in a language the faggots didn't understand. They looked at each other skittishly, wondering what might be in store for them tonight. After cleaning up the kitchen, turning down the beds, eating their piss-soaked gruel, and cleaning themselves out for the night, the doorbell began ringing in guests. The fagslaves were expected to open the door and greet the guests by presenting themselves, tongues out to be teased by complete strangers. More and more men kept arriving, demanding their coats be put away, demanding drinks, demanding their pricks be worshiped, demanding their bladders be emptied, demanding more than two fagslaves could possibly deliver. Alexi just stared at them impatiently, the anger growing on his face. The faggots knew he would speak to them later. And they knew that whenever Master spoke to them, it was bad news. The men seemed to finally be sated and Alexi spoke loudly to demand their attention. "We're here to enjoy a little game tonight, gentlemen. I like the name `Last Man Standing.' We're all to take a seat in the circle and strip below the waist." Everyone complied, some stripping completely. "I've connected my MacBook to our sound system to play some nice music to fuck by. But it will only play for a few minutes at a time, stopping randomly and delivering a beep for a few seconds. "Our faggots will be blindfolded, across from each other. Once the music starts, they will ride the cock of the man seated behind them, working like hell to get him off. Once the music stops, they must unmount themselves from that man and slide over to the man to his left. They ride that cock as long as the music plays, stopping when the random timer goes off again or when a man cums. On and on and on, continually pleasuring men for only a few minutes at a time. "If they get a man to cum, he must leave the circle. Unless he cums so quietly and softly that nobody notices. A faggot's wet hole isn't proof that anyone shot inside it. These cunts are practically self-lubricating by this point in their training." That little lie was to make things more cruel for the fagslaves. "The last man in the circle is the winner and his reward is to take home a fag, or use it here, for the next 24 hours. I want the faggots blindfolded so they can't play favorites." The fagslaves disappeared for a moment, going into their cell to grab their blindfolds, and re-entered the circle in the great room before putting them on. Mitchell and Duncan then spun each of them around a few times and set them across from each other, each putting one on his own lap. Alexi started the computer program and the music before taking his seat in the circle. And the contest began. The men offered no assistance, leaving it completely to the fagslaves to ride their cocks. The faggots understood they only had a few minutes for each man and so they rode like crazy, humping each prick as quickly as possible and grunting and groaning like the most depraved whores alive. Which, in fact, they probably were. The music stopped, the beeper sounded, and the men quickly pushed them off their pricks. The faggots felt their ways to the pricks on their left and got into position to begin humping again as soon as the music restarted. With only a few minutes at a time to fuck, and with so many men in the circle before a man would get ridden again, it took hours before the first man got off. His body tensed, he grabbed the faggot's hips, and shot his load deeply and noisily into the fagboy's fuckhole. "Fuck yeah, faggot. Work that cunt, come on. Make Me feel good." The voice was familiar but there was no way for either fagslave to ask his identity. His identity was above them. The fagholes were both raw and drying out at this point and every fuck was agonizing. But they couldn't complain or suggest. All they could do is ride the next cock harder and faster, hopefully bringing it to an orgasm which would re-lube their hole and take him out of the circle for further fucking. They were in literal fucking agony by the time the second man shot his load, this one inside the fagdad, quieter but still noticeable by the other men. It was now becoming an accepted rule of the game to try to cum as quietly as possible with the realization that by the time the other faggot got to you, you'd be ready to fuck some more. Each fagslave suspected they'd brought off one or two men without anyone noticing. But they, of course, could say nothing. Faggots are seen and not heard. Nobody gives a fuck what a fagslave has to say. A slave's mouth is for input, not output. As more and more men left the circle, there was less rest before a faggot came around to ride each prick for another round, and the men started leaving the circle more quickly. Eventually it was down to Alexi's mechanic Mike, Mitchell, Buck, and (of course) two exhausted, sore, and unnoticed fagslaves. Mike was being ridden by a fagboy desperate for his orgasm. The slave's cheeks were beautifully tear-stained from being fucked so hard by so many for so long. It could think of nothing else but causing another orgasm and allowing this game to end. The fagdad, riding Mitchell's magnificent prick, was equally possessed with the sole goal of causing yet another man to shoot up its hole. Mitchell finally sighed deeply and released his load deeply inside a grateful fagdad. He got up, crudely popping the fagdad's hole off his meat. The blindfolded fagdad reached to its left and found muscular, hairy thighs. It reached for the prick between them and sat itself down. "Know who this is, fagbitch?" Buck asked. A suddenly terrified fagdad nodded while working its exhausted thighs and calves up and down trying to bring him to orgasm. Buck pulled the fagdad's head back and whispered in its ear. "Your son has been riding the only other guy left for about six minutes. He looks damn close to shooting. If the music lasts a few more moments, that will leave only me as the winner, faghole. Just imagine what that will mean." The fagdad appeared to tremble and work its hole even harder, desperate to bring its man to cumming. Buck responded by wrapping his massive arms around the fagdad, holding it close to his body and limiting its movements to grasping and releasing his prick like the plug that had impaled it for hours earlier in the day during its punching bag training. The fagdad moaned and cried against him. The fagboy, unaware of its father's torment, kept riding Mike like a desperate lunatic. Mike, loving the fuck of the slaveboy's wanton ass and seeing the power displayed by Buck, lost his control and screamed his orgasm inside the fagboy's guts. Buck chuckled cruelly inside the fagdad's ear. "All fucking night, you cunt-faced fagbitch urinal. And all fucking day tomorrow." The faggots were pushed off the men as Alexi declared Buck the winner to a round of applause by the other Men in the room. "Got a preference as to which faggot you take home with you?" "I want the fuckin' fagdad. But Alexi, can I use it here tonight? I gotta wife and didn't think to arrange for a hotel...." "No problem, buddy. If it's okay with you, we can go to my room and you can have the fagdad while I watch and get serviced by its faggot son. Everyone else, I hope you enjoyed yourselves, but this party is over. We'll have another one in a few weeks." The fagboy and fagdad had their blindfolds removed and were responsible for getting each man dressed and on his way home. Once finished, they crawled into Alexi's room for the night. As exhausted as they were, their use as entertainment for the night was far from over. The fagdad dreaded its use by its former boss, knowing the level of shame and agony ahead of it, knowing this was the only logical sequence for it, knowing this was all it deserved. A life of silent and unsharable shame, agony, and humiliation at the service of real Men.