Date: Fri, 21 Jul 2023 00:32:37 +0200
From: Ethan Ashford <Sirsconcierge@mail.com>
Subject: Sinclair Society Chapter 3

Sinclair Society - Chapter 3

Again, thanks to everyone who has emailed me at
sirsconcierge@mail.com. What an extraordinary response from all you
pathetic horny faggots out there. :)

Donate to Nifty, fags!

Chapter 3 marks our arrival at The Estate which is in an exclusive gated
community called Beverly Ridge Estates.  Yes, Master's neighbors include
Leonardo DiCaprio, Ben Affleck, Elton John and Samuel L. Jackson.  Usually,
the security guards ID and scrutinize anyone entering the gates, but we
have a special understanding with them. A nod from our driver Tony is all
they require as we pass.

I don't think they know or care that on the floor in the back of the
vehicle is a blonde 19 year old boy, completely shaved and waxed, with a
butt plug shoved up his little boy pussy, wearing a dog collar that says
FAGGOT BOBBY, and with my cock balls deep down his throat.

They have no idea that just days before, our new recruit was a seemingly
straight high school football player from Texas. The guy that every
cheerleader wanted to blow.  But now his massive 8+ inch cock is locked up
permanently and he has been transformed willingly into a faggot slave.

Tony pulls the car up to the main entrance.

"That's enough, boy. We're here," I say. And I push his face off my cock,
which I know he was enjoying deeply. He sighs, frustrated that he did not
earn another load of my cum on the ride.  But there would be plenty of time
for him to swallow many more loads now that we had arrived on The Estate.

At the entrance, a pair of Master's house slaves open the door and welcome
us in.  I nod to Tony, and grab Faggot Bobby's leash, instructing him to
crawl on his hands and knees.  That is how he will enter the property.
Walked like the dog he is.

The house slaves take in Faggot Bobby's paperwork and check him in at the
front desk. I can tell that they cannot help but to notice that Faggot
Bobby is by far one of the most fit, handsome boys I have ever brought to
the property. And I have brought a lot. They even eye his huge cock that is
locked up in his chastity device and they side eye each other.

"We've got a good one," I tell them.  And I can see Bobby blush as he
stares down at the floor.

"Yes," one of the house slaves says. "A remarkable specimen. Master will be
quite pleased."

I laugh. "Well, that is only if little Bobby here makes it through his
training and earns the right to even enter the same room as Master."

"Of course," the house slave says.

I spank Bobby's ass and say: "Remember that is no guarantee. You're going
to have to work for it."

He nods solemnly.

Now, if I was feeling particularly cocky or dominant as we entered the
Estate, that might be understandable. After years of service to Master and
the Society, I had earned my place as the top Concierge and recruiter. But
the Society is very much a hierarchy. And in a few minutes I would be
reminded of that.

After Faggot Bobby was washed and fed, I was to bring him to the North
Wing. That was an initial training area where he would reside for the next
few weeks. His stay in the North Wing would determine his fate. Given his
looks, it seemed quite plausible that he would become one of the rare lucky
slaves to physically service Master. Or that he would at least get an
opportunity to do so. But what happened in the next few weeks in the North
Wing would tell us that.

I knew as soon as we entered that we would have a long road ahead of us
first.  That's because standing in the training room was Damien Wolfe.

Fuck.  I thought.  This is going to be interesting.

You see, Master has many fellow Dominant friends.  Basically these are
business pals, golf buddies. You name it.  Many of them are not gay at
all. They are wealthy. Successful. Powerful Alphas. They only occasionally
fuck boys because 1. They can. 2. It amuses them. 3. Master and the many
donor faggots that fund the Society provide a safe space for them to do so
discreetly and consequence free.

"Well, what have we here?" Damien says to me with a smile - he barely even
acknowledges the collared, leashed, and plugged slave I have brought into
the room. Instead, he is focused on me.

I blush and quake in my boots a bit.  I have visceral memories of my
interactions with Damien over the years. I am stuttering.

"Um... hey there... uh, I mean hello Sir!"

Damien just laughs at this.

It's routine for Damien and Master's other Dom friends to break in these
new slaves, but like I said, they are here more for amusement. Right now, I
seem to be the one amusing Mr. Wolfe.

"That's right," he says. "You better call me Sir." He eyes me with a
smirk. "You may have graduated to Concierge or Sinclair's little recruiter
or whatever. But that doesn't mean shit to me.  You know what you are to
me."

Now my face is bright red.  I glance down at Faggot Bobby who is obviously
hanging on every word here.  I am squirming a bit and I know that is the
whole point. Master Wolfe is enjoying every minute of this.

"Go ahead and say it," he says. "Don't be fucking shy. What are you worried
about telling the truth in front of this little slave?"

"No Sir, I uh..."

"SAY IT!"

"I'm your cocksucker, Sir."

He laughs. "Is that all?"

"Um no, Sir. I'm uh...."

"FUCKING SAY IT!"

"Oh God, I am uh..." I look down at Faggot Bobby and gulp. "I'm
your.... faggot, Sir."

"You're goddamn right you are!"  He laughs, clearly loving it. "Say it with
conviction."

"I am your faggot, Sir."

He grabs me by the throat and kisses me right on the mouth, which I didn't
expect!

"I am a straight man," he says. "I am married. I have three children.  I am
very well known in my industry and in this town, but --" he looks down to
make sure Bobby is paying attention, which of course he is. "But I own your
ass.  I have for a decade. He may act all hot shit now, slave, but your
Concierge has taken cum load after cum load from my Master Cock deep into
his fucking hole. He's my fucking bitch. Do you get that?"

Faggot Bobby just nods quietly.  Master Damien smirks again and snaps his
fingers.

I know what that means.

I was never expecting anything like this today, but as soon as I hear the
snap, it is INSTINCTUAL. I have been trained like a dog.  I don't even
think about it. I simply strip down out of my clothes, fold them up neatly
and place them beside us, and get down on my knees next to Faggot Bobby,
looking up at Master Damien with my big brown puppy eyes.

"That's right, faggot. You still have your training, don't you?"

"Yes Sir."

And right then, he unbuttons his khakis and pulls out his massive snake of
a cock.  The cock I know all too well.

Although he is HUGE, he is still soft.

And it suddenly dawns on me what is next.

"You see, slave, I, Master Damien, like to take a piss before I fuck
faggots.  Now usually, first day of training. First item of training would
be for YOU to handle this.  But you know what? We need to make sure that
little Concierge here isn't too big for his britches. That he doesn't
forget his place in the hierarchy. That he doesn't forget WHO HE IS."

Now, I have to admit all this talk was making me hard.  I instinctually
crawled over to Master Damien, as I had a thousand times over a decade and
I took the soft head of his cock into my mouth and wrapped my lips around
it. I could already taste the salty piss on the tip.

He grabbed my hair.

"Don't spill, faggot!"

And he unleashed a stream into my mouth, which I expertly gulped down. Glug
glug glug! Without missing a drop.

As I tasted and swallowed his piss and could feel the warm liquid down in
my stomach, what Master Damien wanted sank in. I knew my role.  Maybe
compared to Faggot Bobby I was someone or something. But in the hierarchy I
was still a faggot. Still a slave.  Still a piss drinker and cocksucker.

"That's a good boy," he says. And he looks down at the slave. "Someday
maybe you will be skilled enough to take all that without missing a
drop...like the `Concierge' here."

Faggot Bobby just nods.

"AH, good boy. You don't speak until given permission huh? Well, you can
say YES SIR."

"Yes, Sir."

He laughs. "Wait a minute!  What do we have here?"

He flicks his finger on the cock cage that Faggot Bobby has on snugly.

Even with the cage on, it's obvious that Faggot Bobby is hung like a horse.

Master Damien raises an eyebrow.  He's clearly not interested for
himself. That much is clear.  Damien Wolfe is not gay.  So what's going on
here?

Oh, no!

Master Damien grabs Faggot Bobby's leash and tugs on it.

"Come here, boy!"

He pulls out a key and unlocks Faggot Bobby's massive dick in less than ten
seconds, tossing the cage aside.

I am in a state of shock.

This is NOT usual protocol AT ALL.

There is a hierarchy after all!  New slaves are NEVER unlocked.

But I realize that part of the hierarchy is that everything that happens in
this room is at the discretion of Master Damien.

And I know what is going to amuse him.

My face turns bright red again.

I can't believe this is happening.

Master Damien snaps.

"Faggot, you know what you're going to do."

"Um, I do?"

He slaps across the face.  "Are you questioning my authority here?"

I look down on the floor. "Of course not, Sir."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Um..."

"DON'T FUCKING STUTTER!"

I continue to stare down at the floor.

"I am going to suck the slave's cock."

Damien bursts out in a giddy laughter.

"You're goddamn right you are, faggot."


If you continue to be interested in this story and our Sinclair Society
please contact me, the actual concierge at sirsconcierge@mail.com