A Man and his fag: A Quick Visit*,*
by fatsow
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M/m, Humil.
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Disclaimer: The story is fictionalised, contains descriptions of sex and is here for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY. If you are not an adult, stop reading. If reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, read no further. If you read further, you accept that you wilfully gained access to this material, that you are an adult aged 21 years old or older and that this story does not offend the standards or violate any law in your area.
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The Master had said he might want to use the fag. Then again he might not. It was not up to the fag to question what he meant. All the fag had to do was make itself available if and when the Master called. As soon as the Master called. Whenever the Master called. *
The fag had travelled a long distance to be near the Master. As soon as it had arrived at its hotel it had telephoned the Master. The Master had said he might want to use the fag on the Saturday evening, so the fag made sure it had nothing else to do. It kept its phone handy just in case, as it ordered food for itself in a cafe. If the Master called the fag would leave its dinner and go to serve the Master.
The Master gave the fag purpose, meaning, relevance. It existed to serve the Master, if the Master wanted, when the Master wanted. This evening the Master had better things to do so the fag simply waited and did nothing. It went to bed with its phone by the bed. If the Master called, whenever the Master called, the fag would obey and go. But the Master didn't call.
The next morning the fag awoke, sad that it had not been able to fulfill its function. It existed to serve. If the Master did not want the fag though, the fag had no cause to complain. The Master had tested the fag and found it useful, loyal and obedient. He knew it would come when asked. That's why the Master had decided to take ownership of the fag. He wouldn't need the fag all the time, but it would be useful to have a willing, subservient fag when required. And this fag was a very submissive sow.
The fag felt needy and unfulfilled. For most of the day it wandered the streets trying to take its mind of the thought of serving the Master. But it was no good. The fag was a pathetic piece of subhuman shit. It couldn't stop thinking of serving a man, a god, the Master. Eventually the pain was too much to bear. The fag didn't just want to serve and be used, it needed to serve and be used.
In desperation it texted the Master. "Please Master, " it said, "faggot begs to be allowed to serve." There was no response and the fag made its way slowly and sadly to its hotel. A few moments after it arrived in its room, the fag's phone rang. It had received a text. Frantically the fag scrolled down to see the message. It simply gave an address. The fag turned round and left the room. It left the hotel. It headed for the address. It headed for its Owner.
When it arrived at the building the fag rang the buzzer. The door was buzzed open. It climbed the stairs to the Master's floor. The door was ajar. The fag pushed it open and walked in. There was nobody there. The fag coughed gently. The Master stepped out of a room and looked at the fag briefly, then disappeared back into the room. The fag's heart missed a beat. The Master had decided to use it. The Master, the beautiful Master, the god like Master. The fag stripped naked and crawled along the corridor to the doorway the Master had stepped through.
"Come in faggot" said the Master. The fag crawled into the Master's bedroom. "Look to your right." said the Master. "What do you see?"
"Your boots Master." said the fag. "The ones you had on the other day when you said your faggot might be lucky enough to get to get to know them better."
"Well then," the Master replied, "you know what to do."
"Yes Master, thank you Master." said the fag. It reached for the boots. It picked one up. It ran its tongue along the surface. It was dusty and the fag felt the dirt on its tongue. It was so grateful. It licked the boots with long, slow sweeps of its tongue. It licked the surface clean. Then it picked up the other boot and did the same. After licking the top of the boot clean, it turned it over. There was chewing gum stuck to the sole. The fag scrabbled at it with its finger nails, but was interrupted by the Master.
"Don't you have teeth for that faggot?" he asked.
"Yes Master, sorry Master, thank you Master." it replied and chewed at the gum.
As it did so, the Master sat on the end of his bed.
"Enough faggot." he said.
The fag stopped and looked up. The Master had unbuttoned his trousers and was stroking his cock. His perfect cock. The fag drooled. The Master stood up, still stroking his cock, and picked up a ruler. He walked round the fag. He stood behind the fag and kicked it in the balls. Instinctively the fag spread its knees further apart.
"Thank you Master." it said.
"You're welcome." said the Master. He then took the ruler and used it to hit the fag's balls. The fag yelped. The Master strode round the fag back to the bed and sat down again. He lifted a foot. The fag started to lick his trainer.
"No!" barked the Master. The fag stopped and paused for a moment. Then it unlaced the trainer and removed it.
"Open." instructed the Master. The fag opened its mouth and gratefully accepted the Master's foot. The fag squeezed in as much as it could. Then the Master pushed his foot even further. The fag drooled even more. When the sock was soggy the Master took his foot out of the fag's mouth and the fag took the Master's sock off. The Master raised his other foot and the fag repeated the process.
When both socks were off, the fag started sucking the Master's feet. Toe by toe cleaning them. Sucking and cleaning in between the toes. Licking and cleaning the soles. Suddenly the Master grabbed the fag's jaw in one hand and its head in the other. He opened the fag's mouth, then let go. The fag kept its mouth open. The Master handed the fag a sock.
"Stuff it in." he said and the fag stuffed the soggy sock into its mouth. When it had, the Master stood up and used the other sock to tie around the fag's mouth. Not just securing the sock in the fag's mouth, but forcing it in deeper. The fag knelt, submissive, accepting. The Master shoved its head down then walked round the fag. He cracked the ruler down hard on the fag. It yelped again, but with its mouth full of sock only a muffled squawk could be heard.
Satisfied, the Master set to work, slapping the fag hard with the ruler. Again and again he hit the fag. Again and again, louder and louder the fag yelped, then screamed as the Master hit the same spot over and over and over again. Still only a muffled squawk was heard. The Master smiled and stroked his cock.
Unfastening his trousers, he sat down again, in front of the fag. He reached forward and undid the sock around the fag's face and pulled the other sock out of the fag's mouth. Then he lowered his pants and cupped his balls in his hand. The fag crawled forward to lick under the Master's balls. Long, slow sweeps of its tongue. Reaching back behind his balls as the Master laid back on the bed.
The Master let go of his balls and the fag started to lick and suck them. The Master idly stroked his cock as the fag serviced his balls. Then the Master sat up. He grabbed the fag's jaw and pulled it up with one hand. With the other hand he pointed his cock down. The fag opened his mouth. The Master slipped his cock in, then put both hands behind the fag's head and pulled hard. His cock sank deep into the fag's throat and the Master released his hands. The fag knelt motionless, trying to suck in air, allowing the Master's cock to rest warm and snug in its gullet.
Eventually, the fag was gasping for air and raised its head. The Master allowed it to come off his cock for a brief second, then slammed the fag's head back down. As he did so he leaned forward to press his body over the fag's head to hold it in place, and reached down to the fag's tits. The fag had large, spongy tits. Easy for the Master to find and then to squeeze hard between his thumbs and fingers.
The fag didn't know what to think. Its tits were now being pulled away from its body. The pain blotted out all thoughts of its throat, until it realised it needed air. It tried to raise its head but the Master's body was leaning on it, as he pulled the fag's sow titties. The fag's brain was full of confusion. Eventually the Master leaned back a little. The fag came up and sucked in air for a second. Then the Master slammed its face down again. Reached for its tits again. And pulled them hard again. Very hard. The fag's mind was a mess.
After another while, the Master leaned back again and the fag almost in a trance come up for air again. This time the Master allowed it up as he stroked his cock hard. As the fag recovered its wits, it stared at the beautiful cock in front of its lips.
"Tell me what you are." commanded the Master.
"Your faggot is your slave, your property, your pet Master. Your faggot exists to serve you Master." replied the fag, its eyes still glued on the Master's cock, watching the foreskin sweep over the head and back.
"Yessss." hissed the Master as he stroked his cock. He pinched the fag's tits and pulled. The fag rose and shifted its weight form knee to knee as it tried to take the strain of its weight off its tits.
"Tell me what I mean to you." demanded the Master, as he started to stroke again.
"You are your faggot's lord, your faggot's god, your faggot's Owner, Master. You give your faggot's life meaning Master. You give it purpose. Without you Master, your faggot would be useless. You are the reason why your faggot was created Master." responded the fag.
The Master pushed the fag's head down and tipped it over his cock, the head between its lips, and continued to stroke. Soon he cupped one hand around the fags head and pulled. As he did he leant down to pinch the fags's swollen titties hard. As he started to pull, his cock started to twitch. The more it twitched the harder he pulled. Again and again the fag felt the Master's cock expand and blast his spunk down its throat. Again and again the Master came. Again and again the fag felt each blast fill its throat, each blast distracting it from its aching tits. When the Master was finished, he flopped backwards onto the bed. The fag raised its head, gasping for air.
"Fetch me a glass of water worm." he said. The fag went to the kitchen and filled a glass. It returned to the bedroom and give the Master the glass. The Master downed it in one. The fag wondered if it was going to be allowed to serve its Owner as his urinal again, but the Master had other ideas.
"I'm going to beat you with the ruler again faggot." he said.
"Yes Master, thank you Master." replied the fag.
"Do you know why?" he asked.
"No Master." said the fag.
"Because I want to. Because you are my slave. Because I own you." explained the Master.
"Yes Master, thank you Master." said the fag again.
"Do I need any other reason?" asked the Master.
"No Master." replied the fag. "Your faggot is your slave Master. Your faggot is worthless without you Master. Your faggot is your property Master to do with as you like."
"Yes." said the Master simply, as he picked up his socks. The fag opened its mouth. The Master stuffed one sock in and tied the other round the fag's head. Then he hit the fag with the ruler. He hit it hard. He hit it many times. He hit it in many places. He kept hitting it as long as he felt like it. He only stopped when he wanted to. After all, an owner can do what he likes with his own property. He untied the sock and pulled the other one out.
"Get out scum." he ordered, as he wandered out of the bedroom and down the hallway. The fag crawled back to the front door, dressed and left. As it walked down the stairs it remembered to text its Owner to thank him for letting it serve. When it got back to the hotel, it undressed. It looked at its fat swollen sow titties, aching from the rub of its shirt, in the mirror. It turned round and saw angry red lines on its back. The Master had created a pattern along the edges of its back. No part had been missed. The fag understood that the pain and the marks simply confirmed its status. It was a docile, servile "thing". It had been created to serve. It was owned. It had served. That was its purpose. That was its function.
*This story is copyright 2012 by fatsow. You may download and keep a copy for personal use if the author's byline and this paragraph remain on the copy. Please do not post this story to any other web site without the author's permission. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the contents is permitted. Feedback is welcome. Flames are ignored. fatsow can be reached at the address on this story.