First, the disclaimers. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, copyright 2010. The narrative that follows did not happen to me or to anyone else I know. The characters in the story, like myself, are all of legal age. Don't contact Me to meet these slaves. DO contact Me if you want to become one of these slaves. Also contact me with any praise, criticism, or suggestions. All feedback is good.
Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 14
A very content fagdad woke up the next morning, his arm around his fagboy and his nose pressed into the piss-damp crotch of his Master's jeans. His sleep was filled with dreams of endless submission to real men, inescapable servitude both mindlessly domestic and sexual. He awoke with a sense of fulfillment, a realization that he was finally finding his position in life. His sense of shame now existed side by side with a new sense of pride.
He quietly crawled out of the cell with the men's dirty clothes, through the fratboys' room, and into the kitchen to start the laundry and prepare breakfast. Soon after, his fagboy joined in. They quietly cooked the meal their Superiors would enjoy and discussed what they expected of the day.
"Master is probably going to want us to collect His things to move here."
"Well first we have to move all our stuff out. I wonder what he'll allow us to keep?"
"We don't keep anything. We're slaves now. We have no right to own. We'll probably be given a few changes of clothes, but that's about it."
"Good point, Dad." His fagdad looked at him sternly. "I'm sorry. The fagdad makes a good point."
As they were finishing the prepwork for the Men's omelets, their naked Master groggily walked into the dining area. "I'd like some orange juice." The fagboy scurried to serve him. "And some coffee." The fagdad filled a cup and brought it to his Master. "Everybody sleep well?"
Fagdad answered for them both. "Yes, Master. Thank You for allowing us the honor of sleeping with Your piss-drenched jeans, Master."
"Wow. A smiling fagdad. I haven't seen that in weeks. What gives?"
"Master, i don't know how to describe it. But life is now beginning to make sense. Thank You so much, Master; this couldn't have happened without You."
The fagboy, back in the kitchen chopping up peppers, looked to his fagdad and smiled. The washer stopped and the fagdad moved the laundry into the dryer before getting back to work in the kitchen.
Master apparently decided now was an unexpectedly ripe opportunity to move things along. "Things are about to make a lot more sense to the fagdad. I thought about what you begged for last night. To no longer work, to no longer even pretend to function as a real man. Makes sense to me. I'll be doing both you cocksuckers a favor if neither of you can function in any other way but the helpless fagslaves you are. Father and son slaves in lifetime devotion to real men."
"Yes, Master!" Both slaves spoke at once.
"Great. I'll get started on the plan after breakfast. Now, while one of you makes my omelet, I want the other to tear the rattan seats from these 3 chairs. Don't leave any straggling strands to scratch my ass." He got up with his coffee and went to the desk as the fagboy got a pair of scissors to comply with Master's wishes. He understood exactly what Master wanted. He left his fagdad to make Master's breakfast.
Sirs Mitchell and Duncan came in. "What is the fagboy doing?"
"Master wanted the rattan torn out of these seats, Sirs. I think it's so we can kiss Your asses while You eat."
"That fagboy is one perceptive little asswipe, isn't he?" Master asked from the desk. Sir Mitchell smirked.
Sir Duncan walked in front of the fagboy. "My bladder is full. Open up."
Master again shouted from the desk. "Duncan, wait a sec. These faggots need a good breakfast. Have the fagboy find a large dogbowl under the sink, fill it with cereal for the two fagslaves, then lift it up to your dick."
Sir Duncan smiled. "I fuckin' love the way you think, Alexi. The fagboy better get to work" Within a minute, He was draining His bladder over their cereal. "Anybody else need to piss for these subhuman urinals?"
Mitchell nodded. "I want that bowl over here." He pissed into their breakfast as well. "Alexi, you need to piss?"
"Nah. I pissed all over their mattress when I woke up. I'm gonna do that every day. So it gets nice and ripe for `em. Fagslaves, they love to sleep in raunchy piss."
"Yes, Master. Thank You so much, Master," the fagdad replied from the stove. "Master, Your breakfast is ready. Sirs, Your meals will be ready in about 5 minutes."
Master answered. "Bring it over to the table. I want the fagboy to get the fuck under the chair and greet my asshole properly while I eat."
Minutes later, the fagdad brought Sirs Mitchell and Duncan Their omelets and slid under Their seats, going back and forth between the two young Men, rimming Their assholes as They enjoyed Their breakfasts.
The Men spoke amongst themselves, describing Their plans for the day and completely ignoring the faggots adoring Their butts. The only indication They gave of Their awareness was how They shifted in Their seats if one of Them was licked particularly well or deep. The eager faggots made love to these Men's asses while they were not acknowledged in any way.
After the guys finished eating, Master got up, addressing the father and son slaves. "The faggots should now clean up in here and eat your breakfast," He motioned toward the soggy cereal that had been marinating in the Fratboys' piss, "while I shower. Take care of Mitchell and Duncan however they desire, but be at My desk when I dry off." They sped to take care of the cleanup and eat their raunchy breakfast so they could quickly be available to the Fratboys. Within 15 minutes, they knelt at the feet of Sirs Mitchell's and Duncan's seats at the table.
Sir Mitchell looked at Sir Duncan. "I don't know about you, but I want more of that butt-worship. This time a tongue all to myself."
Duncan nodded. "Sounds good to me. The faggots should get to work." The two slaves pressed their tongues up the Fratboys' assholes, eager to please the two young Men. As the fagdad worshiped His asshole, Sir Mitchell started jacking off. As soon as Sir Duncan noticed, He started stroking as well. Within minutes, They were both moaning in pleasure. Fagdad heard Sir Duncan chuckle softly and demand, "Whichever asswipe's working on my hole, go to Alexi's bedroom and get his camera." The fagboy crawled out and quickly returned holding the strap of Master's camera in his mouth. "Good little cuntboy. Give it to me and get back to work." He and Sir Mitchell were both close to cumming. "Mitchell, trust me on this, ok? Shoot your load on the fagdad. I'll slime the fagboy's face. I want the faggots to crawl in front of our dicks for their morning facials." The fagdad knelt in front of Sir Mitchell's prick as His huge load volleyed all over his face. Sir Duncan sprayed the fagboy's face with His cum as well. Duncan pulled His chair away. "Now you two get over here and lick and suck our cum off each other."
The fagdad and his boy faced each other in front of Duncan and the camera. The fagdad sighed and obeyed, licking Duncan's cum off his boy's face. While he continued, he realized something he thought important: maybe this wasn't his fault after all. Just like he assumed he passed some faulty genes to Ryan, maybe they were passed onto him. Maybe his dad, his granddad, his whole family tree had this submissive gene. "Maybe it goes all the way back to classical Greece," he thought. "Some `boys' who wanted to stay subs all their lives. Unlikely, but maybe." The important thing, like his son said, was they both found what they needed. Wasn't that enough?
In answer, the fagdad sucked up a huge load of Sir Duncan's seed off his son's face, pulled back, and kissed his fagboy hard, pushing his mouth open with his tongue. The two of them exchanged the cum of their Superiors in a piggish, open-mouthed worship of sperm. Sir Duncan giggled as he videoed their cleanup. "Fuck yeah," He whispered. "Fucking perverts. Father and son degenerates. Jesus fucking christ." When they finished, He turned off the camera. "Alexi's going to fucking love this."
By this time, Master had finished His shower and was heading toward the desk. The two fagslaves scurried to His chair. Duncan gave Master His camera. "Check out the video I just took. We dumped all over their faces and had them clean each other off."
Alexi took the camera and watched the video. "Fucking A, Duncan. You should be proud of yourself for this. It's going to work out perfectly."
"For what?"
"I'm going to put these two to work online. The cell is internet-ready. Cameras in there ready to go to the net. These two father-and-son bitches are going to perform on the web for strangers. For pay. They're going to be my fucking cyber-whores."
That got the attention of everybody in the house.
"I haven't worked out the details yet, but shit like this," he said, holding up the camera, "will be damn good promotional material. I'll set up a 10-hour shift a few times a week. Men will be able to watch for free. Both of the fagwhores performing together in the cell. Balls wired so that there's a constant source of incentive: the fewer men watching, the more powerful the jolts wracking their nuts. Then men can pay per minute to be able to order the faggots to do something. Anything. I'll use my Mac's text-to-speech so the bitches get some stupid computer voice instructing them to do the most depraved shit to each other for the entertainment of men they'll never see."
Mitchell's draw dropped. "Fuck, Alexi. That's brilliant."
The fagdad and fagboy, listened carefully, catching every word. They looked at each other, both wondering what more taboos they could possibly be crossing under this setup, knowing they had no choice in the matter. Knowing they no longer cared.
Their Master looked down at them, chuckling at the looks on their faces. "But for now, asswipes, that's just the start of a plan. This weekend, you two will be busy moving us in. The fagboy will take what used to be its car down to my old place. Bring what was its MacBook. Create an inventory of every fucking thing I have there. Make a spreadsheet for Me so I can check off everything I want brought over here. In the meantime I want the fagdad to throw all the personal crap you two used to own out. Leave the furniture, dinnerware ... just dump all your personal shit. Books, music, clothes. Leave your uniforms: your nylons and apron and stilettos, and the fagboy's leather shorts. He'll have a change of clothes on him, so leave an additional change for him and two changes for you. Everything else, either toss in the trash or arrange for Goodwill to pick up. Get going." Alexi's evil smile lit up his face. "I've got work to do."