Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2011 12:07:15 -0800 (PST) From: Vincent Vincent Subject: The House Fag, Chapter 9 First, the basics. This is, once again, a work of FICTION. Real-life considerations will take a back seat to erotic pleasure and story-telling; this slave, these Masters do not exist. Wanna change that? Or just wanna share comments/praise/criticism? Fine: Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com Copyright 2011 =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The House Fag, Chapter 9 A few days later, Master Thomas called me from my cell. "Suck my asshole, fag." "Yes, Master Thomas. Thank You so much, Sir." It was daytime, apparently a weekend day. Master was naked on His recliner, watching a game. I crept up to His recliner and slid my torso through the frame and my tongue into His beautiful ass. I began to lick and suck Him, tasting His deliciously powerful juices. I couldn't help but moan into His ass. "Today, fag, you get to clean our bathrooms. Isn't that nice?" "Thank You, Master Thomas." I had learned to speak clearly in spite of my task, carefully enunciating each word around my tongue and His hole. "Zach told me how you entertained him and his friends at the theater last week. Shame I wasn't there too. Sounds like a laugh riot. Ever get that crap out of your clothes?" "No, Sir, Master Thomas." "Oh, well. No big deal. Just so you know, though, don't worry about that happening when you clean our bathrooms. You won't have to use your clothes, fag." That was good to know. "Thank You, Master Thomas, Sir." "After all, a good fag tongue-scrubs men's toilets, right?" Oh, fuck no. Please, no. "Sir? Master Thomas?" "What, fag? Don't you like the taste of real men like us?" "Yes, Sir, I do. I crave it. I need it." "So what's the problem? I want both upstairs toilets scrubbed down. Nice and shiny. Spotless. And the floors, too. Especially the floors, cuz, you know, sometimes Zach and I, we don't really bother aiming our cocks when we piss." "I understand, Master Thomas," I sighed. "Your johns will be tongue-scrubbed, Sir." "Um, fag?" "Yes, Master Thomas?" "What kind of fucking ingrate are you? Here I am, offering you this special opportunity, and you're answering like it's not the highlight of your week. Maybe I should find some other fag, one that's more appreciative, and send you off to jail where you belong." I panicked, pulling my stupid tongue out of His ass to make myself absolutely clear. "NO, PLEASE, MASTER THOMAS. OH, FUCK, I'M SO SORRY. THANK YOU, MASTER THOMAS, SIR, FOR ALLOWING ME, SOME UGLY LOW-LIFE FAG, THE PRIVILEGE OF TONGUE-SCRUBBING YOUR TOILETS, SIR!!!" "Shut the fuck up, fag, and get to work. Now. They're unlocked whenever we're at home. Start with mine. When you think you're done, come down to beg me to stop what I'm doing and inspect your work." Yeah, stop what he's doing. He's just watching the game while His fag is slaving over His toilet. Nice. "YES, SIR, MASTER THOMAS! THANK YOU AGAIN, MASTER THOMAS, SIR!!" I cantered as quickly as possible upstairs into His bedroom and His bathroom. It was, sadly, almost as dirty as the john in the theater. Fucking filthy. But it was His filth. His pubes coating the drain of the shower. His piss staining the floor. His crap spotting the john. My programming started flashing in my mind's eye. I CRAVE FILTH I NEED TO OBEY I AM EMPTY WITHOUT A MASTER I EXIST TO SERVE I figured I'd start with His toilet. Might as well. I lifted the lid. The water was dark with His piss. Plenty of it, apparently. I flushed the john to clean it out. "What the fuck was that, fag?" Master Thomas had apparently followed me and was in the upstairs hallway. "I flushed Your john so I could clean it better, Master Thomas." "And who the fuck said you could do that? We are environmental here, fag. Piss stays in the bowl. We only flush when we shit, fag. Jesus, fag, you think water's just here to be wasted? Water's valuable. It's fags like you who are a dime a dozen on any street corner in the city." "Yes, Master Thomas. I'm very sorry, Master Thomas. It won't happen again, Master Thomas, Sir." "Better fucking not, fag." I started licking and sucking the specks against the porcelain. I kept picturing His beautiful ass and cock as I did so, helping me find focus and inspiration. In time, I found myself hungrily sucking up the specks around the rim and in the bowl. What the fuck? How did They do this to me? "Fuck, fag, what a pathetic piece of work you are." I felt a stream of heat against the back of my head. "Thank You, Master Thomas, for pissing on me." He didn't say another word, just hawked up some spit like Zachary's friends did before, flung it on the floor at my feet, then went back downstairs to His recliner and watched TV as I slaved away, scrubbing His toilet with my pathetic fag-tongue. Then I sucked and scrubbed the floor around it, now freshly coated with His rank piss and thick spit. Eventually, I felt comfortable that all was clean to His satisfaction. I climbed downstairs. "Sir, Master Thomas? Could I ask you to inspect my work in cleaning Your toilet like a good fag, Sir?" He sighed His displeasure at me. "Not during the game, fag. I'll get there when there's a commercial. Kneel there and wait." "Yes, Sir, Master Thomas." He got up and came over at the next break. I smiled, proud of the work I did. "What the fuck is this, fag?" He pointed into the shower. "Master Thomas, Sir? You said to clean the toilet and the floor." "And isn't this the floor of the shower, fag? Are you fucking brain dead?" "I'm sorry, Master Thomas, I didn't understand." "Well, now you do. Get to work while I watch. And be fast. The game's about to come back on." I crawled into the shower and started plucking up His pubes. "WHAT? Shit, fag, didn't they teach you anything in fag school? Are you too good to suck up my dirty pubes out of the shower?" "No, Sir, Master Thomas. It's just that . . . ." "I don't fucking care what it just is. It's JUST my fucking pubes. Suck them out with your god-given suck-machine mouth and wait before I allow you to swallow them. Instead, stick out your filthy faggot tongue with my pubes on it, and beg me for permission to get nourished by my fucking pubes, fag." He was still smiling that incredibly seductive grin, even while tearing me apart with His insulting commands. I instantly obeyed, using tongue, mouth, and teeth to pull His pubes out of the drainholes. I recalled the night He first raped my pathetic throat and how badly I wanted to sniff His pubes as I was choking on His massive Cock. I realized just what an honor it was to finally be allowed to not just smell, but to be nourished by His beautiful blond pubes. I did some gymnastics in my mouth to gather them all on my tongue, and looked up at Master Thomas. "Please, Master Thomas," I begged, sounding like an idiot with my tongue hanging out of my mouth, "please allow some stupid fagslave the privilege of swallowing Your sacred pubes." He snickered his laughter over Me and nodded. I swallowed them all down, taking a few gulps to get every last hair. "Done, Master Thomas, Sir." "Now, you were just nourished by my delicious and nutritious pubes, fag. That's a meal. Let's say, $10." "I'm running out of money, Master Thomas, Sir." "Then write me a goddamn check, you fucking imbecile, and beg me to cash it for you so you can keep paying to be fed our cocks, our cum, and our piss. And now," He chuckled, my mouth drooling at His smile, "our filthy pubes." "Yes, Sir, Master Thomas. Thank You, Sir, for cashing another check for me, Master Thomas, Sir." "Now get to work in Zach's bathroom. He said he left you a special gift in the bowl. So special, he expects to be paid $20 for it." My stomach knotted, just guessing what that gift might be. I crawled into His john, lifted the lid, and confirmed my suspicion. There, practically tamping the bottom of the bowl, was a thick turd. I knew I had no choice. I knew I had to clean it up, and there was only one way available to a disgusting fag like me. I couldn't dispose of it without Master Thomas knowing. I wasn't allowed to flush the john. I couldn't carry it in my hands and throw it out without Him seeing Me upright while holding it. I finally realized what it meant to be a true slave -- to have no choice in anything, but merely to do as I was told. Or, in this case, not even told. I stuck my head into the cold pisswater, bit, swallowed. Over and over. Until my gut was full and there was no more crap in the bowl. Then I began the tongue-scrubbing once again, worshipping Lord Zachary's toilet as I just had His Father's. I CRAVE FILTH I EXIST FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF MEN I AM A DIRTY ANIMAL It was hours before I had finally polished both bathrooms. Master Thomas inspected them both, rewarded me by allowing me to reverently and gratefully kiss His god-like penis for a moment, and sent me back into my "suite". I returned to put a $20 stack on the lid of Lord Zachary's john, then back into my cell where I crawled atop the horse-cock and collapsed as my programming continued searing itself into my brain with barely graspable images, gone before they could be fully understood. I noticed new pictures and words beginning to etch themselves into my psyche: I AM PATHETIC I AM AN ASS-KISSING FAG WHORE I OBEY MY MASTERS COMPLETELY WITHOUT LIMITS I DESERVE TO BE LAUGHED AT BY MEN I AM AN ASSWIPE I AM FAGSCUM MY MASTERS DESERVE BETTER THAN ME I AM LUCKY TO SERVE SUCH MEN I quietly sobbed, nodding in agreement.