Date: Thu, 22 Oct 2020 18:57:31 -0700 From: Cro Magnon Subject: "Brainwashed By My Master's Scent" Content warning: Gay, oral, pit licking, spit, piss, foot worship, sweat, dom/sub, master/slave, dirty underwear, blackmail, brainwashing, straight/bi conversion, findom, TPE, slave contract, older sub / younger dom, human dog Comments are welcome at this email address. Thanks for reading. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "Faggot slave seeking master for training" is what I decided to go with for my headline. I posted the ad, and waited to see if any responses rolled in. I spend my days working as a CEO of an airline company - day in, day out, I am bossing people around, being, well a prickish asshole, frankly. That's the only way to get ahead in this industry. To date, my main focus has been on my career, working my way up the corporate ladder to where I am today. I've built up quite a nice life - hot wife, nice car, big house, lots of travel. But lately I've felt like I need something more, and have been hunting on Craigslist for just that something. I've had my share of man-on-man experiences in the past, don't get me wrong. It started out just as casual blowjobs - my wife stopped with those years ago. Lately however, I've found myself with a new urge to have somebody take more control. At the end of a long workday, I have been wishing for nothing more than a superior man to put me in my place. Somebody who will get a little more aggressive. I have been watching a lot of kinky porn and reading stories in my free time, and more and more I am feeling like this is something I need in my life. The next evening after work, I went into my office upstairs. Looking through my email, I notice I got a handful of replies to my ad. One in particular stands out to me. The picture he sends immediately catches my attention. This man is stunningly handsome. He looked to be in his late twenties and was built like a god - toned muscle from head to toe, accentuated by a glistening glow of sweat, and a treasure trail of dark pubes leading suggestively into the waistband of his underwear. A sharp masculine jawline speckled with stubble drew my attention upwards where I became captivated by his steely gaze. He was looking straight into the camera, and it almost felt as though he was looking at me right through the computer screen. His reply reads: "I am an experienced master who likes to train and humiliate twisted faggots like you. The goal is total ownership of you as my property." Immediately this sentence excites me. The prospect of being an owned piece of property, a slave to this dominant alpha male, is simultaneously terrifying and deeply erotic. My cock twitches in my pants just reading that sentence, and I shoot him back a message right away. We exchange a few introductory messages over the course of the evening. His replies, while succinct, are also creative and evocative - I immediately glean a strong intelligence from this man. Finally, he comes up with a suggestion to meet. "Look faggot, I've got no time for this chit chat. Tomorrow night, meet me in the parking lot of my gym at 7:00 PM. You will need to prove you are worth any more of my time. Bring a small tribute to give to your new Master. Five hundred in cash should do. Until then, you need to shut your faggot mouth and quit wasting my valuable time." The idea of bringing this guy a wad of cash feels funny at first, but it seems fair enough for him to be taking time out of his day for a guy like me. This should work out well, as my wife will be out late leaving me free to roam. Excited to get a chance to actually fulfil these deep seated fantasies of mine, I have a restless sleep through the night. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx On the warm summer night of what will be my first meeting with my Master, I round the corner in my car and see a sign for the gym. This must be the place. I park my car towards the far end of the parking lot and start looking around nervously. Second thoughts begin to creep in - what am I doing here? I have spoken to a few men who profess to be dominant masters, but this guy gives me the impression that he's the real deal. I hope I can handle what he has in store for me. I feel a buzz on my phone which immediately gets me excited. "five more minutes, faggot". Why do I feel a twitch in my dick every time he calls me faggot? I'm even starting to leak out some precum, making a visible stain in my jeans. I've never had this reaction before to something as simple as a text message. Something about this guy just has me mesmerized. I look down at my phone, back to the pictures he sent me. The intense gaze of his eyes framed by his handsome face has me transfixed. There is a confident cockiness in his smirk that just radiates a strong alpha male presence. Suddenly, I hear a knock on the car window that catches me off guard. I turn and look and see the handsome face of my new master, in the flesh. Fresh out of the gym, his bulging shoulders are glistening with sweat. Reflexively, my tongue hangs out of my mouth. His neat blond hair is somewhat tousled from his workout and I catch a peek of his armpits exposed by his sweaty wifebeater. "Open the door, faggot" he sternly commands as he looks me straight in the eye. His masculine commanding presence just hooks me right in and makes me want to obey. I swing the car door open and look up at him. "H-hello Sir," I nervously stammer. I barely recognize my voice as these few words come out - at work, I am the type to be in control, commanding, and confident. But this godly stud in front of me has a presence that renders me weak, timid, and obedient. Before I can say another word, he barks back, "Out of the car and on your knees, faggot". Another twitch in my dick. "Right here?" I ask - I kind of thought we'd be going back to his place or head out to a pub to chat or something. While the shadows of the setting sun are obscuring us somewhat, we are still in full public view. "Do it, faggot!" He commands, louder this time. His deep voice resonates in my head and, not wanting him to make a scene, I get out and drop to my knees on the warm pavement. I am now at eye level with his crotch, looking wide-eyed at his bulge pushing through his gym shorts. I breathe in nervously and catch a whiff of his post-workout musk, and something clicks in my head. Any brief heistations that were dancing in my mind have evaporated, replaced by the rich masculine pheromones that this god of a man exudes. I feel another squirt of pre-cum leak into my jeans. "Where is my tribute, faggot?" he asks. Entranced by his masculine aura, I briefly had forgotten our arrangement. I reach into my pocket and pull out the cash. I bow my head and present it to him as he had ordered. I am looking down at his strong calves and his old gym shoes and on. I feel him grab the cash out my hand and riffle through it, counting it to ensure the full amount is there. I am mesmerized by every inch of his body. I think about how much I would love to be under his feet. "Look at me, boy". My head snaps to attention. I am now looking up over his strong muscular chest to meet his intense gaze. This feels so right, on my knees looking up at this superior man. He cocks his head and spits right in my face. Caught off guard, I grimace but open my mouth in submission. Master reaches into his pocket and pulls out his sweat soaked underwear he was just wearing for his workout, stuffing them into my open mouth. The scent of his sweaty feet is now strong under my nose and I can feel my body relaxing and my brain growing more and more connected to this god of a man. I let out a weak fabric-muffled moan. "Good boy," he says, his tone warmer this time. "That's all you get for today. Check your messages later, faggot." And just like that, he turns to leave, unceremoniously, leaving me on my knees in this public parking lot, spit dripping down my face, jeans stained with precum, and his sweaty underwear hanging out of my mouth. I feel absolutely pathetic, yet simultaneously, so blissfully perfect. As I drive home, the huge rush of endorphins starts to wear off and my head is spinning. Why the hell did I just do that? What am I thinking? I have a public-facing job, I could have been caught. I have a wife, what if she catches wind of this? Were there any cameras outside that gym? My mind is racing with possibilities, fearful of what is possible. Somehow though, through all the fear and panic and racing mind, I notice my cock is rock hard. What the fuck is wrong with me? As soon as I pull into my driveway, I grab his sweaty underwear out of my pocket and press them to my nose, breathing in deeply. His scent is still strong on them, and I immediately feel the rush of endorphins again. My mindset changes immediately, his rich musky pheromones act like a drug going straight to my brain, and my mindset flips back to the pathetic faggot that I know I am inside. As if right on cue, I feel my phone buzz, and my cock twitches with excitement knowing that it is him. I open it and read: "From here on out, I control when you are allowed to cum, got it boy? Tonight, I have a generous reward for your obedience today. I want you to jerk your cock off, but only while you have my underwear in your mouth. Got it boy?" "Thank you, Sir, and thank you for everything today Sir, you are a god," I type excitedly. It doesn't take much to convince me to do this. Breathing his scent unlocked something deep in my mind today. When I get inside, I make a beeline for my bedroom upstairs. I lay back on the bed and drape his sweaty underwear over my mouth and nose and breathe in deeply. My cock immediately gets rock hard and starts leaking precum. I unceremoniously start beating my cock in an animalistic display of lust that I never thought possible. I was sweating, grunting, and panting like a dog. Breathing in the smell of his underwear is driving me absolutely wild. His pheromones are pulled deep into my nose and straight to my brain. I shoot a massive load that hits the headboard, accompanied by the most euphoric orgasm I have ever experienced in my life. It was as though he was pressing a button in my mind that was making me feel this way. I could feel his presence in every bone in my body, and it felt good and right. It felt good to obey him today. From that moment on, I felt transformed. The entire concept of "pleasure" in my mind had just become deeply intertwined with my master's scent. I was hooked. I need more of that. I need to serve him. I need to be his slave. I need to taste his cock. I need his cum inside me. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx My entire week at work I am on autopilot. In the back of my mind I am constantly thinking of my encounter with my Master last Sunday. All week he has been fairly quiet on messages, but he did leave me a short voice message in his deep raspy voice. "You are a pathetic faggot. I own you now boy. You will obey me and serve me." Hearing his voice, my mind immediately flashes back to being in his presence in the gym parking lot. The physical warmth he exudes, his sweaty scent, his confident masculine presence, his utterly perfect body. All week I have been playing this voice message back to me any time I have a moment to spare. There is almost this hypnotic urge to do so that has overtaken me. In between meetings at work I sit in my office with my phone to my ear, listening to this voice clip. The more I hear it, the more I believe it to be true. This man owns me. On Thursday afternoon I finally receive another message from him, and I am tickled with excitement. "Tomorrow night at 9:00 PM sharp, boy. You will meet me at the parking lot on the far side of the park. Be ready and waiting for me with another cash tribute. Twice as much this time, boy. I'll make you my bitch. " "Yes Sir I will be there, Thank you Sir" I quickly type back, so eager to see another message from him, to know that this will be more than a one-time thing. The rest of my day is spent with a goofy smile on my face and a half hard dick stretching against my jeans. I can barely sleep through the night - I am so brimming with excitement. God, I really am a faggot deep inside, aren't I. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Friday night, right on schedule, I pull into the parking lot. This side of the park is pretty quiet especially around dusk, but there were a few cars still parked near the gate, so I park towards the back where it's a little darker. The red glow of sunset is gradually fading to dusk, and the streetlights flicker on. I feel my phone buzz, and like a well-trained dog, my cock twitches. "Alright faggot. Stay in your car, but strip down totally nude," his message orders. "I need to inspect my new property. Have your tribute between your teeth waiting for me." I look around, trying to stay aware of my surroundings. There is a trailhead nearby, but it does not sound like anybody is coming, nor are there any lights on the cars at the far side of the lot. I peel off my pants and shirt, leaving them on my dashboard for easy access just in case. My cock starts to get hard with this semi-public exposure, especially knowing my Master is on the way. I am eager to find out what he has in store for me tonight. The quiet hum of crickets in the park is broken by the rumble of an engine approaching. A set of bright lights round the corner and begin to wash out the view in my rear-view mirror as they approach closer. Finally, a beefy black truck pulls up next to my car, and in it in the driver's seat is my handsome godly Master. He turns to me and I see him start to laugh, which seems fair - I am looking pretty pathetic and bizarre, totally nude, wide-eyed in awe of this alpha male, with $1000 cash in between my teeth. He gets out of the Jeep and walks around front. Today he is in a tight fitting grey wifebeater, showing off his well-defined chest and shoulders, as well as a well fitted pair of jeans that nicely cup his thick bulge. His black leather combat boots give him an extra couple inches of height over me, making me feel all the more insignificant in his presence. I hope I get to see his cock tonight - I have been so deeply anticipating taking his thick dick in my mouth. "Open the door, faggot." He says, pointing at me. I click open my car door and feel the evening breeze blow in over my nude body. Master breaks it into full blown laughter. "Hahaha, god damn it faggot, look at you. You look pathetic. A weak twisted faggot. You look nervous, boy. But it looks like your cock is hard!" "Yes, Sir", I mumble, my teeth still clenched over the wad of bills. He reaches out and grabs the cash, stuffing it into his back pocket. "I'm gonna take you for a little walk, boy. Make you my human dog. Got it?" Master pulls out a leather collar and leash and wraps it around my neck. His warm touch sends a wave of electricity down my spine. I realize this is the first time he has actually physically touched me, skin on skin, and find it amazing how he has got me so deeply wrapped around his finger with only his voice, his looks, and his scent. I am nervous about what exactly he means by "take me for a walk". We are in a public park and I am fully nude, as per his orders. "Get out, boy." He tugs on the leash and I step out of the car. My bare feet touching the raw warm pavement is a foreign sensation. I have never been naked out in public like this, and while this spot is relatively low risk, there is a certain titillating feeling that I could be caught. Considering this, I briefly hesitate, nervous to stray any further than a few feet from my car. Suddenly, Master puts one hand behind his head, exposing his hairy armpit soaked with a summer day's worth of sweat. His other hand grabs me by the back of the head and pulls my face right into his pit, rubbing it all over my face. As I breathe in, my nose is filled with his strong manly musk, a rich blend of pheromones similar yet unique to the scent on his underwear. Fireworks go off in my mind. Any sense of hesitation dissolves as I immediately return to that blissful mindset of a faggot slave. I am already deeply addicted to this feeling and addicted to him - My cock is rock hard. Nothing in my life has ever made me feel this intensely euphoric, and I am willing to do anything to keep this happening. I take this opportunity to stick my tongue out and taste him - his salty sweat in my mouth brings me even deeper. My cock starts to leak precum. As he pulls back, I can feel the breeze on my face, now drenched in his sweat and marked with his scent. My tongue is still hanging out, panting from the adrenaline, and my eyes are wide. He laughs, then spits in my face. "Hahahah, you like sniffing me, don't ya? Let's go, boy. On your knees. Time for your walk." My head spinning from the rush of breathing my Master's scent, there is nothing I wish to do more than obey. I drop to my hands and knees and assume the position of a dog. I look up along the leash, wrapped around his wrist, up his muscular arms. It feels right to be looking up to this alpha god. Master has already turned his head and started pulling me along. My knees get scuffed with dirt as I crawl behind him along the park path. My master's sweaty pit scent continues to cling to my nose lips and tongue, giving me a consistent dose of those heady pheromones that seem to weaken my mind to this pathetic controllable bitch. Despite the encouragement, I feel humiliated being tugged along the way like this. My mind is transforming to that of a human dog - sniffing around and wanting to stay close to my master, always a few steps behind his clunky combat boots. As we continue along, I begin to hear distant footsteps approaching, and I start to panic. "Heel boy, It's ok." My master says, tugging me back down with the leash and I choose to blindly trust his words. Nothing bad will happen. Two male figures gradually come closer along the trail. At first, I am thinking that perhaps this is something that my Master has planned, but the way he is carrying himself makes me think that these are just a couple of random passersby. "Fucking faggot," the tall man sneers as he walks by, not breaking his stride. I feel a shiver down my spine as he says this - the tone of contempt and disgust that he carries makes me feel lower than the dirt that is pressed into my knees. We continue around the loop back to the parking lot. "Good dog," he says, reaching down and scratching my head. I pant, nearly involuntarily as his words guide me into the role. This godly alpha male that has me brainwashed is truly a master - giving me just enough positive feedback and praise to validate the humiliation and abuse. Not only does he make me incredibly horny, but he also fills my body with an all-encompassing goodness. "Thank you, Sir." I reply, appreciating it with every ounce of my soul. Now back at the truck, he commands me, "Sit, boy," and I plunk my ass down on the pavement. He turns around to face away from me and unbuttons his fly, obscured from my lustful gaze. He pulls his dick out and starts to release a strong stream of piss on the front tire of his truck. "Lick it up, boy". Master squats down and grabs the back of my head, guiding my face down to his tire. At this point there is no resisting him no matter the command - my tongue shoots out and swipes along his tire. His salty piss blends with the taste of rubber and dirt on my tongue. It's not at all appealing, it makes me feel low, degraded, pathetic and humiliated. He laughs at me and spits on my bare back. "God you are fucking twisted, faggot. You really will do anything I say." "Yes Sir," I reply, quietly spitting the bits of grit and dirt out. "Anything to please you, Master." He reaches over to unlatch the collar. "Good boy. That's enough training for one day, faggot. Get the fuck out of here." He gives me a nudge with his boot, and I stand back up. I go to thank him, but he has already turned around to jump back into his truck, peeling out of the parking lot. I climb back into my car, totally floating with an intense rush of endorphins - I feel incredibly euphoric and I haven't even shot my load yet. I decide to push my clothes onto the passenger seat and drive home nude - it feels more appropriate for a cock hungry faggot such as myself. When I pull into my driveway at home, I check my phone and see a message from my Master. I feel a tingle of excitement at the potential to follow more orders or see more pictures of this godly man. As I open the chat window, my heart sinks and a wave of adrenaline washes over me. It's not a picture of him, it's a series of pictures of me. Some from in front of the gym - spit dripping off my face, dirty underwear in my mouth, and precum stained jeans all visible. Some from in the park just now - collared, leashed, licking up his piss. He must have had his phone hidden on him somewhere recording everything we did the whole time. I am scared shitless. Another message pops up. "You're mine now you pathetic fucking faggot. You will listen to me and do as I say, or these photos go out to your boss and your wife. Got it, boy?" Still sitting in my car in my driveway, I am blown away by this revelation of his. I knew this whole thing was a bad idea. What the hell am I doing meeting up with random dudes on the internet? I put myself out there too much and was too trusting and it's biting me in the ass. This guy could ruin my life, all for a chance to get my rocks off. My panic is challenged by a competing feeling of trust - I truly believe my master is a good man, and so long as I obey, I have nothing to worry about. Besides, I doubt he would even have the means to follow through on this threat. "Yes Sir. I will obey Sir." I respond, simultaneously hoping that satisfies him and hoping it brings me deeper on this journey. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx All week at work I am thinking about what my Master has done to me. I hear myself speak in meetings, my confident voice contrasting harshly with the pathetic whimpering tone that my Master gets out of me. This bossy businessman persona is increasingly feeling like a facade - maybe one day, years ago, I was an alpha male like my Master, but that was a lifetime ago. Now it is nothing but a mask that I wear to hide the fact that deep down I am a faggot who lives to serve superior men. The fact that my Master has been demanding payment every time has made my days all the more erotic, as I spend my work day thinking about how everything I am doing is to please and support him, even the mundane details of the work day. It feels like I have a purpose. Finally, on Thursday afternoon, I get another message from him. "Tomorrow morning. You will come over to my place and start your slave training in earnest. Got it faggot?" While excited to hear from my Master again, I am a little bit hesitant about the short notice. I begin to bargain, "I'm free on Saturday, does that work Sir?" I don't hear back from him for almost an hour, so when my phone finally buzzes, I am worried I have pissed him off. "Tomorrow, 10:00 AM, or else." Below that is a photo, and it takes me a few seconds to process what I am seeing. He is showing me a screen capture of his email app. He has a draft email open, embedded with all the pictures from our previous meets showing me in my most pathetic and compromising state. And he has addressed it, to my surprise, to my wife and the entire board of directors of my company. I stare blankly at my phone in shock. How did he track all this down? I take a few deep breaths through my renewed panic and reply, "Yes Sir. 10:00 AM I will be there. Please don't hurt me, Sir." "You are safe with me, boy." He says, and I feel a rush of warmth through my body reading those words and deep down inside, knowing them to be true. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Friday morning, bright and early I arrive at the address he gave me, pulling up to the front gate. It's a relatively unassuming house in a nice quiet neighbourhood, lots of privacy. He must be doing well for himself to end up here, anyhow. I am stirring with anticipation for what my Master has in store for me. I briefly consider just driving away and forgetting this whole thing. I could call his bluff, see if he would ever actually send out those pictures of me. Nevertheless, compelled by equal parts blackmail and brainwashing, I continue up the path towards the house. I approach the front door and press the doorbell. After a brief delay, I hear my master's voice ring through the buzzer, sternly chiding, "You're late, faggot." The way he enunciates the word faggot, almost as though he's spitting it out in disgust, gets my cock twitching. "I'm sorry Sir, I wa-" "No excuses faggot. Strip your clothes off." "Yes Sir", I quickly reply. It feels good to say it without thinking, to know that obedience is my default answer. Cars are driving by on the street behind me, but I have no choice at this point. I can't turn back now. This superior man has such a hook in my mind that I feel so deeply compelled to obey. I could say that I'm doing this to prevent him from outing me to the world, but frankly that would be a lie - I am doing this because I am addicted to his musky scent, his godly body, his twisted mind. I am doing this because I want to serve him. I pull my shirt off and drop my pants, and announce, "I am naked, Sir." The warm summer breeze feels good against my body. "Good boy," he says. "You can put those in the trash can right beside you, you won't be needing those anymore." I briefly hesitate - I didn't really bring a change of clothes or anything. This feels like a point of no return scenario. Nevertheless, I have come this far, I must follow through. I put my wadded-up clothes into the bin and then drop down to my knees, as is increasingly becoming my habit. "All done Sir." I answer. I hear the door latch click as the door opens, revealing my amazing godly alpha male Master standing in the threshold. A warm fuzzy feeling washes over me even simply being in is presence. Master moves quickly and pulls a black fabric hood over my head, completely obscuring my vision. The hood has an open hole in the front, allowing him easy access to my mouth. Next, I feel the now-familiar sensation of a leather collar being buckled around my neck, completing my slave attire for the day. I felt a tug on the leash and followed, somewhat disoriented by the dark hood which blocked out all light. I climbed over the threshold into his house, and seemingly down a hallway into another room. "Stop right there, faggot," he barked, tugging back on the leash. I obeyed, staying on my hands and knees, which were now on somewhat of a plush rug. I could hear the crackle of a fireplace to my right, its warm radiant heat embracing me and even making me begin to sweat. I could hear the floorboards creak as Master paced around me, as if to inspect his handiwork - his brand new slave ready for more training. The smell of woodsmoke mingled with his natural sweaty scent in a way that created a very masculine ambience. I felt the tugging pressure of the leash release, followed by the weight of his feet resting on my nude back. "Your first job is to be my footstool, boy. You will stay right there until I command otherwise. Got it?" "Yes Sir." I reply obediently, despite the reserved confusion I held at this request. This was not quite what I had anticipated, I thought I was supposed to be a cocksucker, yet here I am being used as an object. Nevertheless, it feels good to obey. "Good boy. Now shut the fuck up," he commands. He lifts one of his feet and peels his sweaty sock off, then shoves it in my mouth to silence me. Every breath I take fills with the heady scent of his foot sweat, the pheromones setting fireworks off in my mind and feeding my addiction. I immediately feel that same click in my mindset, where my hesitations melt away, and everything feels right. I feel like a lusty animal breathing in his scent and just want more and more. I hear the fizzle of a beer can cracking open as Master gets comfortable with his new footstool. I could hear his chair creak as he shifted his weight and heard some tapping sounds as though he was doing something on his phone. No matter, he proceeds to ignore me entirely as he does this. My last shreds of hesitation dissolve into pleasure the longer this goes on. The feeling of his weight on top of me feels like a comforting embrace. The opportunity to do even the tiniest thing to make this godly man's life easier and better felt so good. My mind is solely focused on my steadfast desire to please this alpha male in any way that I can. I occasionally feel beads of sweat drip off his feet onto my back. Finally, after what seemed like almost an hour retaining this pose, I hear Master's phone start to ring. He picks it up. "Hey man. Yeah no, I'm in the middle of something right now. I have this faggot over, he's my footstool right now." I feel a rush of humiliation come over me hearing him put it so plainly. Hearing him talk about me as though I was an object, as though I was not even in the room, felt so bizarrely appropriate. "Yeah for sure, I'll send you a pic, one sec." I hear the shutter sound click on his phone - more incriminating photos. I open my mouth to protest, dropping the sock out of my mouth, but before I can say anything, he gives me a firm smack on my bare ass, redirecting my attention and making me yelp. "Remember faggot, you have no choice in the matter. Remember our arrangement. You obey me unconditionally or else those photos go out to the world." I don't need reminding of that fact but thinking about it briefly makes his captivating spell wear off, and the concept of the outside world floods back into my brain. However, my Master, seemingly able to read my mind, quickly redirects me. "Now get on your back." He commands. His deep confident voice brings me back into the scene. I feel his warm hands on my back, firmly manipulating my body as he wishes. I roll over onto my back, relieved to have the weight off my wrists and knees. He pulls the hood off me, tugging at my hair in the process. The dim light of the room finally floods into my eyes - at first, somewhat disoriented as my brain starts to process everything around me. Most importantly though, I am now face to face with my Master's sweaty foot. Before I can fully register the details of what I am seeing, he presses his foot down onto my mouth, my nose wedged right between his toes. His scent on his sock was enough to drive me wild, so this first experience to breathe his foot sweat deeply, skin-on-skin, makes my brain melt away into putty. The drooling hungry faggot in me comes back out as his rich musky pheromones fill my brain stronger than ever before, fueling my addiction to new heights. "Get licking, faggot. Clean the sweat from between my toes." My tongue darts out of my mouth on command. The salty sweet taste of his sweat greets my tongue. It feels so degrading to be doing this, to be licking the filth from between a studly alpha male's toes. My cock goes rock hard immediately. I feel his other foot press down on my cock. "Hahaha, fuck faggot, that's what gets you hard eh? Being a foot licking slave? God it's too easy to control pathetic faggots like you." He's not wrong. I am shocked too at how easily he has brought me down to this pathetic state. I am completely hypnotized by his deep voice and his masculine scent. I eagerly lick between each toe, at this point not even focused on how much I am loving it, but more focused on how much pleasure it is giving him. Somehow, he is able to control my mind and bring me deeper and deeper into this blissful state of pure obedience. "God damn it faggot, you shot on my foot!" He barks. In my blissful state I guess I leaked out a load of precum onto his foot that was still pressing down on my hard dick. "Lick it clean, boy" he says as he shuffles his feet, the precum slicked one sliding onto my tongue. "Thank you, Sir," I reply appreciatively, happily tasting my own precum mixed with his foot sweat. I feel like a dirty filthy faggot and I love it. "Up. On your knees, boy." Master steps up out of his chair and yanks on the leash, pulling me up into a kneeling position. He towers above me as I look straight into the bulge of his jeans - his cock is clearly rock hard, making a noticeable outline in the denim. "Alright boy, you have done a good job obeying me so far. To really prove your worth, I need to see what a good cum dump you are." He unbuttons the fly of his jeans and his hard dick pops out. I am finally here, face to face with my Master's amazing cock, and it is more amazing than I could have imagined. It looks to be about 8 inches long, uncut, and quite thick. His hefty balls glisten with sweat and his bush of dark pubes holds in that virile musk that is growing increasingly familiar and, at a deep level, necessary to me. I take a deep breath trying to take it all in while I await his next orders. "Tongue out, boy." He commands. My tongue shoots out, panting with hunger. He squeezes his hard cock from the base, letting a drop of precum hang from the tip. "Beg for it, faggot". "Please Sir let me taste your precum Sir," I beg, "I need to taste your cock Sir I have been hungry for it for weeks sir. Please, I will do anything Sir." The drop of precum finally releases from his cock onto my panting tongue, its sweet taste permeating my mouth. I let out a pathetic moan of pleasure. He takes this opportunity to grab the back of my head and shove his thick precum-slicked cock between my lips and tongue. My mind is kicked into high gear - this moment is exactly what I have been waiting for, exactly what a cock hungry faggot thinks about constantly. He grabs the back of my head tightly, moving my head around his cock as though my mouth is an inanimate sex toy for him to use. His dick feels thicker than it looks once it is actually in my mouth as I notice my jaw stretching to accommodate it. I start to suck his enormous manhood, swirling my tongue around his foreskin to fully taste him. The scent that got me so excited from sniffing his underwear a few weeks ago is now richly filling all my senses. He tastes and smells like a pure alpha male. I begin to enter a trancelike state, gaining focus on what I am doing. I need to pleasure this man better than ever before. This is my one shot to prove to him that I can be a good cocksucking faggot. I wrap my hands around his hefty balls and the base of his shaft, worshipping his cock. Every ounce of my being is focused on giving this godly stud of a man as much pleasure as possible. I let my throat relax, taking his cock all the way to the base. After several minutes of focused cocksucking. Master's strokes become more aggressive, now pounding my throat rough and fast. I no longer am actively giving a blowjob - my throat is just an extension of his body. He starts to grunt and breathe deep. I recognize the familiar patterns of a man who is approaching orgasm. His strokes get longer and fuller and his strong grip on my hair tightens as he pulls back. Finally, I start to taste the rich creamy cumshot start to blast into my throat. I swallow his load voraciously, fueled by animalistic lust yet barely keeping up with the sheer volume. I get nearly a dozen huge shots going straight into my mouth and inside me. I am a mess - my hair disheveled, my cock leaking precum, my lips dripping in his load, covered in Master's sweat and musky scent. In this moment I feel like I have fulfilled my purpose as his faggot slave. I feel a warm sensation all through my body, almost orgasmic in and of itself, from fulfilling this duty. "Good boy." He plainly says in between breaths, resting back down into his chair. His deep breaths of post orgasm relief are like music to my ears - I know that I have given this godly alpha male pleasure and knowing that pleases me too. I am addicted to the feeling of giving this man pleasure. After catching his breath, he stands up. "Let's go, faggot." He grabs the leash and begins to tug me out of this living room into a hallway. We enter another room that is more dimly lit. This looks to be his bedroom, and at the foot of the bed is a large steel cage. He guides me along towards the open end of the human-sized cage, nudging me with his feet. "Get in, faggot," He commands. Still floating with the orgasmic feeling of pure obedience, I crawl into the cage without hesitation. He slams the cage door behind me and clicks the padlock shut. "OK faggot, you'll stay in there until I need you again." The cage is snug but comfortable - the metal is cool on my limbs but in the warm house it feels pleasant. The clink of the padlock locking serves to reinforce just how deep I already am controlled by this twisted alpha male's mind. Master steps out of the room and I finally get a chance to examine my surroundings more thoroughly. I see an assortment of bizarre sexual implements in the room, some that I can identify and others I cannot. There is a leather sling hanging from the ceiling. There is a rim chair in the corner. A series of shelves on one wall holds a variety of restraints, ropes, collars, and other toys. My Master truly is experienced. As I look around, I fantasize about all the possibilities for the future with my Master, trying out each and every item in this room. As I get more and more accustomed to the cage, I close my eyes and daydream all these scenarios in his service. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx An hour passes in the cage. I enter an almost meditative state, thinking about how Master's huge cum shot is inside me, gradually even becoming a part of my body. When he returns, he has a file folder in his hands with a thick stack of papers in it. "Alright faggot, this is your slave contract. It outlines the terms of how the rest of your life is going to work. Simply put, you will be signing away your entire life to me. You will be a full-time slave, always held to obey my command. You will have certain domestic duties - cooking, cleaning, laundry, that sort of thing. This section here outlines how I get full power of attorney - all of your assets will be put into my name - in essence it makes you a full dependent of mine under the law. I have had some of the best lawyers in the country review this, it's fully legally binding in any court of law. While you were in the cage, I took the liberty of going through your phone and putting in to the document all your personal information and bank accounts. So, this section, when you sign, will transfer the rest of the funds from your bank accounts into mine. Frankly it's ridiculous they let faggots like you have this much cash in the first place, you know a real man like me will better be able to put it to good use" Oh, fuck. This is getting too real. I can't believe what I am hearing. When I asked to be a Slave, I kind of expected to be sneaking around on weekends, occasionally servicing this guy. I didn't imagine half of what we have done, let alone this full time permanent scenario he has laid before me. But then again, what does the word "slave" imply? He continues, "So you have two choices, boy. You can go out that door, pull your clothes out of the trash and head home, and never see me again. Of course, if you do this, your photos will get spread far and wide. I don't think I need to explain to you what that will entail. Either that, or you can sign it all away, spending the rest of your life as my faggot slave. I'll give you some time to look through everything. I will be back in half an hour and you will give me your final decision. Got it, boy?" "Yes Sir" I meekly reply, still in a state of shock at everything I am hearing. He slips the file folder through the bars of the cage and leaves the room. I leafed through the documents, wide-eyed. I can't believe that he's put all this together - it all seems legitimate and legally binding. I am used to reviewing contracts like these through my work, so I can already tell that he's not messing around, these documents detail in full legal jargon what few remaining rights I will hold as a subhuman slave that I would become. I weigh the options that my Master has laid before me. Master, to date, has been incredibly up-front, honest, and truthful... well, with the exception of recording me. I have no reason to doubt that he would actually follow through with his threats to spread my compromising photos far and wide. If I leave, it's going to be a hellish ordeal - I would be losing my job, my wife, my house anyhow. And I would be losing my Master, whose godly presence I would miss most of all. But why would I want to go back to that unfulfilling life? Never in my life have I felt this kind of deep visceral pleasure before. Deep down inside, this is what I am - a cocksucking faggot slave. I was born to serve superior alpha males. I have become fully addicted to Master's scent, his body, his mind. I visualize the day to day - cooking for him and cleaning for him, these domestic sort of chores are not entirely unappealing. To be doing it to please him makes it a joy. If laundry involves sniffing his dirty socks and underwear, then that's a gift unto itself. Being used for his sexual gratification will, above all else, give my life purpose and meaning far superior to what little satisfaction I obtained from my old lifestyle of accruing money and objects. At the end of the day, you only live once - I need to do what feels right and fulfil what I genuinely want out of life. The opportunity to meet my Master has been a once in a lifetime gift, and I will not squander it. My heart is pounding. I need to do the right thing. Deep down inside, I know I was born to be a faggot slave in service of this alpha god. I sign all the documents and make it official. I am now a fully owned slave for the rest of my life, yet I have never felt so free.