Date: Wed, 19 Oct 2011 04:22:29 -0700 (PDT) From: Vincent Vincent Subject: The House Fag, Chapter 3 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 3 So that was pretty much my life for the next few months. I was tormented by being His wingman so He could more easily pick up a woman to fuck instead of me. I was told when I would be taking Him out for drinks or dinner. At these events I would be fed His piss and whatever He didn't want to eat from the meals He ordered for us. On rare occasion, He'd call me over to be throat-raped by His massive, fragrant meat. Oh, God, His massive, fragrant meat. When I was still learning how to deep-throat His incredible cock, He once moaned that it only got tongue-cleaned by fags like me. I believed it. It was usually sour, cheesy, and was ripe with the smell of sex, both His and sometimes some woman. But fuck, it was wonderful. I wouldn't have it any other way. It was an honor to be allowed to intimately tongue-wash His giant dick, to be used in any way that turned Him on. His balls were delicious. They, too, were mammoth. Covered in blond hair, thick and oozing of sweat and pheromones. Intoxicating. I could never get tired of licking and tonguing them. I was His insatiable nut-slut. And His God-like ass. Really, I could not possibly get enough of it. The perfect butt. Round, muscular, firm cheeks. Bubbles made of velvet-lined steel. And a hole so tasty, I wanted to climb inside it. My mouth is drooling as I write this. Honestly. Did I have any complaints about how He used me? Only that it wasn't nearly often enough. But it could have been 24/7 and still not be nearly often enough. My cock, ignored in a constant cage, was unable to get fully hard without hurting like hell. My nuts were full of juice that was itching like mad to be let out, more full with each passing day. I was totally insatiable. Which is just the way He fucking wanted me. I was His to use completely, without any reservation. I'd soon find out just how true that was. He never spoke to me about His divorce, about His life. There was no need to. I was, after all, just a fag there to entertain Him. So imagine my surprise when I met him at the steakhouse bar to find him with some kid. Probably about 15 or so. Obviously, from the similar build and matching hair color, it must have been His little brother. "Zach, this is the fag I was talking to you about." I stopped dead in my tracks, totally unprepared for this. "Hey there, fag. My dad wants a beer; I'll just have a coke." I just looked at Him, completely paralyzed by shock. Dad? How old was He? "You heard My son, fag. You gonna say `no' to My kid?" "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll go get them." "OK, fag. We'll wait here at the table." I came back with a bottle of beer and a can of coke and passed them to my Superiors. I'd never felt so belittled in my life. This mere boy was bossing me around, telling me what to do. And, according to his Dad, that was how it should be. It was interesting to compare the two of Them. Dad was, like always, all seductive yet innocent smiles; His son, however, had a grin that was more a cruel sneer. Laughing at me. Mocking and belittling me without saying a fucking word. I knew it wasn't my place to ask anyone's age. Apparently Sir was far older than He looked, by at least five years. It must be that beautiful, wholesome smile just made Him look so boyish. We were seated in the restaurant about twenty minutes later. The kid got up to use the rest room. He was bringing his coke can with him. Oh, gees. I was brought back out of my thoughts by laughter at our table. Sir was cracking up. "Yeah, fag. He knows what you were born to do." "So I should obey You both, Sir?" "If you're a smart fag, you will." "But what if he tells me to do something You don't want me to do?" "Can't you tell right from wrong, fag? Are you that fucking stupid?" "I know right from wrong, Sir. But won't I get punished either way, since I'd be disobeying one of you?" "So? What, you think life is fucking fair or something? Did you forget your purpose in life? To fucking entertain Me? Well I think it's fucking hysterical to watch a fag squirm in a no-win situation. So get used to it." By that time, His son returned, slamming His coke can on the table in front of Me. "Drink up, fagbitch." I took the can and brought it to my lips. He stared at me, wide-eyed, laughing hard. "Jesus, Dad, you weren't kidding. This fag's fucking depraved all right. Your mama know you're a fuckin' urinal, fag?" "No, Sir." "Shit, fag, what kinda manners you got? `Sir' is what you call My dad." "What should I call You?" I was just going to have to find some way to get used to this. "I was thinking, `Lord'. You know, kinda like some goof from old England, you know? But also," he snickered, "like I'm your fucking God." Sir chuckled in agreement. "You know, Zach, that's pretty smart of you to pick up on that so fast. How this fag worships men like Us. And if the fag's going to call You `Lord', then maybe it should start calling Me `Master'. `Master Thomas.' Yeah, like some butler fag. `Master Thomas' and `Lord Zachary'. That sound cool to you, son? "I like it, yeah, pop. What about you, fag?" "Yes, Lord Zachary," I sighed. "Thank You for answering my question. And thank You, Master Thomas, for showing me my place in your world." Master laughed. "Fuck, fag. Barely scratched the surface on that one. Long, long way to go." My caged dick throbbed in both desire and fear. Just like a true faggot slave. After dinner (paid for by me, of course), I was told to park my car at home, walk to Their house, and come in. Through the garage entrance, of course, like a good little fag. The door into the kitchen was open, and from there I saw Them in the family room. There was Master Thomas, balls out, in His lounge chair. Lord Zachary was laying on the sofa next to Him, fully dressed. I stood there in the doorway, not knowing what I was supposed to do. "Jesus, fag. You need a fucking invitation? Crawl over here and beg My nuts for the chance to suck Me off." "But, Master Thomas . . . " "But what? You think My son is afraid of seeing His old man get serviced by some dumbfuck fag?" I crawled over and started licking His mouth-watering testes. Lord Zachary snickered, multiplying my embarrassment in being seen as nothing but a sextoy, a "dumbfuck fag", by an outsider, a mere kid. "Yeah, dad, he's a fag for sure." "Yeah, Zach, I know. But listen, we talked about this, son. You don't go around school calling guys `fag' just `cuz they're queer. I mean, maybe they are, maybe they're not. Some queers think they're just like Us. And maybe they are. I never got to know one well enough to know for sure. But some queers, like this one, they really are fags. Stupid shits who know about nothing, think about nothing, except how to make men like You and Me feel great. All I'm doing is letting that happen. Letting this fag BE the fag it is. Ain't that right, fag?" All I could do is moan at the taste and texture of His sacred nads. So I guess that meant He WAS right. But it was so fucking humiliating being used like this in front of His son. To make things even worse, He then lifted His thigh, pulled down His pants and guided my head down to His mouth-watering asshole. "Aw, shit, dad, he kisses your ass? Seriously?" My shame multiplied yet again. I wanted to crawl inside Master Thomas' hole just to be away from Lord Zachary's sneering and belittling gaze. "See for yourself, Zach. But remember: it's not a "he". No man would lower himself to be another man's asswipe. And it's a damn good asswipe." He wrapped Himself around my slurping tongue. "What a fuckin' perv." "Zach, you want this fag licking your ass, sucking your dick?" Oh, God. Please, no. "Sure. Looks like fun." Master Thomas pulled me away from His flesh. I cried out a moan. He didn't care, of course. "Crawl over to My son and beg Him permission to eat His ass and suck His cock." I hesitated. "Did I NOT make Myself clear, shithead? Fucking worship My son!" "Yes, Master Thomas." I crawled over to my new user and abuser, some child who now had control over me as my Superior. I looked down at the floor, so fucking humiliated I felt like I was melting in shame. "Please, Lord Zachary, please let me kiss Your beautiful ass and, if I please you enough, allow me to suck Your cock and swallow Your cum." He laughed at me, of course. I was, after all, just some stupid fag begging Him to allow me the most humiliating of acts, showing this Boy just how much a Man He was and how much I wasn't. "Beg Me again, fag." "Please, PLEASE, Lord Zachary, please let me suck on your asshole." I said it like I meant it. I think that's because I was so embarassed and broken at that point I did mean it. "OK, fag. Beg Me to drop my drawers so you can kiss My ass." "Please, Lord Zachary, lower your shorts so I can please and entertain you?" He pulled off his jeans and boxer briefs. "Get to work, fag." I stared at his body. A near carbon copy of his dad's, but without a hair on him except for a few scraggly blond pubes. And that sadistic sneer on his face instead of his dad's warm smile. "Thank You, Lord Zachary." And I tasted His godlike ass as well. His body didn't have the raw stench of His dad's; instead it held an addictive sweetness. Oh, shit. I was realizing, but couldn't believe, how much I wanted this, even as I hated it. I'm not into young guys; I like men, not boys. But I guess it didn't matter. I was told to service Master Thomas' son. And I was getting into it, but not because of His youth. Because He was born from the cum of His Dad. Proof of the power of His Dad's sperm. Now with sperm all His own. I needed it. I needed Him. I kept rimming and moaning into His hole for what seemed like days. Finally He shifted his pelvis to aim me back toward His cock. It wasn't as large or as rank as His Father's inhuman pole, but it was at least 7", uncut, and drooling like mad. I started sucking Lord Zachary's precum and, if I'd been allowed to get hard without pain, probably would have shot my load, it was so fucking savory. I couldn't help but dive onto His Cock and start sucking like a goddamn machine, constantly pulling more of that delicious precum out of His salty Dick. Within five minutes, He was spewing His incredibly delicious load in my mouth and down my throat. I moaned whorishly, eyes watering, savoring each sperm that landed on my faggot tongue. "Dad, you want more of the fag, or should I kick it out of our house?" "I'm good, Zach. Kick away." Lord Zachary's toes were ramming into the crotch of my jeans before Master Thomas even finished speaking. "Thank You, Lord Zachary." "Thank You, Lord Zachary." It was all I could think of to say in my delirium. It was all I felt. Fucking gratitude for this Kid who'd just used me like a toy while His Dad watched. They had me. They knew it. I knew it. But I had no fucking idea just how well they had me. Not quite yet.