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 16
The fagdad humbly crawled behind Master into the frat boys' bedroom. In the corner, between the two beds, was a chair. Well, "chair" was a generous term for what he saw.
Master had used some lumber to create a diabolical seat for a slave. The center of it held a cruelly large butt plug. The wooden seat was too narrow to fully support a slave's body. And there were hooks on either side from which to suspend a slave's ankles. The end result: any slave planted here would be continuously balancing himself against the butt plug, fucking himself until someone let him free. Master looked at the fagdad and instructed, "Stand up." Once the fagdad was upright, Master put his arms behind him and duct-taped each wrist to the elbow of the other arm, making those limbs useless. Master then lubed up the plug from a tube he had in his pocket. "Sit on the plug."
The fagdad impaled himself on the buttplug as Master locked his ankles into place, preventing him from resting his weight on them. Master explained, "I spoke with Mitchell and Duncan before they left. We decided it would be fun to have you here, watching as they made love to their women this evening. Reminding you of how Men enjoy women and how you are unworthy of that pleasure. I'm going to scoot these beds away from you so the girls don't panic. They're going to keep the lights down so you won't be seen. But if the fagdad makes any noise, there will be consequences." The fagdad started squirming on the buttplug. "Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me. The guys asked that I use an itching powder with the lube." The fagdad groaned as Master pulled the beds away and closed the door, leaving the room to use His fagboy.
It didn't take long for the itching powder to make its presence known. The fagdad started to squirm against the plug in an effort to satisfy the itch growing up and down his fuckhole. All that did was amplify the sensation and feed his need to press his hole against something. Anything. He started rotating his hips and fucking the plug as best he could.
After what seemed like hours of this insanity, the door to the bedroom opened. Fortunately the light entered the room at an angle, lighting the beds but keeping him in the dark. He saw Sir Mitchell lead a breathtaking young woman into the room. Sir Duncan and his beautiful date were right behind them.
"I'm glad you two are up for this. We just thought it'd be kind of fun to share the room." The women giggled to each other; apparently they were friends. The two couples paired off to their respective beds. The fagdad fought his urge to moan in frustration.
Both women were stunningly beautiful, the kind Men like the frat boys could attract. The young Men kept the door open so the fagdad could see everything. Every bit of flesh as everyone's clothing was removed. Every moan and sigh as the women were pleasured by the Men who were fucking them. And all he could do was witness the lovemaking, impaled on a giant plug, slowly and silently fucking it to keep his balance and to try to satiate this eternal itch inside him. Tears rolled down his face as he accepted his fate.
Both couples approached orgasm together. Clearly Sirs Mitchell and Duncan had done this before. Being surrounded by the sounds and sights of release but feeling none of it himself, the fagdad once again came face to face with his inferior status, his lack of manliness. This punishment was, he knew, exactly what he needed, what he deserved. He wondered if he had won the contest earlier this evening, if this would have been the award for the winner just as it had been punishment for the loser. Proving that faggots had no choice in anything that happened to them. He softly sobbed as all four of their moans grew in intensity.
Both women came before the Men did, but the Sirs were right behind them and they all enjoyed the bliss of simultaneous release. All except the fagdad, of course. There were a few moments of afterplay as the young Men caressed the breasts and the necks of the women, kissing them softly as they came down from their high.
Sir Mitchell spoke. "Wow, ladies. That was unbelievable. Let me help you both get dressed and cleaned up and I'll drive you two back home." The three of them slid out of the room into the bathroom next door, closing the door and leaving the fagdad alone with Sir Duncan.
The fagdad heard His voice, soft and menacing. "I bet the fagdad fucking loved that, didn't you?"
"Yes, Sir. That was very generous of You both. I appreciate You two reminding me what a loser i am, Sir."
Sir Duncan kept quiet until Sir Mitchell and the girls left the house. He then got up and turned on the light. "Jesus fucking Christ. What a pathetic piece of fagmeat. How long has the fagdad been fucking itself on that plug?"
"i don't know, Sir. It's been awhile. The itching powder had been very frustrating, Sir. Thank You for that extra misery, Sir, but it has finally stopped itching so much now, Sir."
"You're welcome, faggot." Sir Duncan smiled and punched the fagdad in the gut. The fagdad responded by grabbing onto the plug for balance. Without the itch, he was able to keep his hold on the plug and his prostate throbbed against it. "Now thank me for that little sign of affection I just gave you."
"OOF ... thank You, Sir, for Your affection." Sir Duncan slapped him hard across the face. "OUCH! Thank You, Sir, for this kiss of Your hand." Sir Duncan's dick started to rise again as He aimed to punch the fagdad's abs. The fagdad started to buck against the plug, both to get a better purchase on it and to pleasure his prostate. Sir Duncan's eyes displayed disappointment. "Is the fagdad trying to escape? Don't you like it when I'm showing you some attention, the way a real man should treat a faggot?"
"NO, SIR. It's fucking perfect. It makes me grab the plug even harder, Sir. Please, Sir...."
"Please what, you dumbfuck asswipe?"
"Oh, God," the fagdad sobbed. "Please punch me, Sir. Please punish me for spending my entire fucking life pretending to be a Man like You." Sir Duncan smiled and punched the fagdad's face. Not hard enough to bleed, but more than enough to leave a mark. The fagdad clenched the plug in his hole to keep his balance and pushed his prostate even harder against it. "Yes, Sir, thank You so much, Sir." Another punch in the guts.
Sir Duncan kept the pace slow and even, cruelly drawing out the pain from each assault. His cock was rock hard and dripping. The fagdad guessed that Sir Duncan had never used a faggot like this, but it was something He would love to do again. Sir Mitchell came back home and entered the bedroom. "What the fuck?"
"Seems our fagdad loved our performance so much, he's volunteered to be our punching bag. Wanna join in?"
"Nah, but do you mind if I sit back and watch?"
"Help yourself, Mitchell." Sir Duncan aimed just under the fagdad's ribcage and punched hard. A resounding "oof" filled the room. Sir Mitchell watched the fagdad grip the buttplug and his fagdick drool inside its cage. "Holy fuck. He's really grabbing onto that plug. Imagine what he'd do with a dick up there."
"Mitchell, you wanna find out?"
"Seriously? Have the fagcunt sit on my dick while you punch him senseless?"
"Sounds good to me, buddy."
"OK, sure. Let's do it." Sir Mitchell stripped and slid His mattress onto the floor. His prick was already hard. Sir Duncan unfastened the fagdad's ankles and helped him up off the dildo, slick from his juice as he fucked it for the past few hours. Sir Duncan led the fagdad to Sir Mitchell and pushed him down to skewer himself on Sir Mitchell's cock, still wet from the earlier fuck. "Oh my fucking god," Sir Mitchell sighed. "Do it, Duncan. I wanna feel this."
Sir Duncan smiled down at the fagdad and punched him in the mouth. The fagdad's fuckhole grabbed Sir Mitchell's dick as he tried to remain upright. "Ohhhh, fuck yeah," Sir Mitchell moaned. "Keep the fagdad grabbing onto my goddamn dick."
Sir Duncan winked at Sir Mitchell and let loose. Punch after punch. Guts, face, chest, shoulders. The fagdad had no other options but to keep grabbing Sir Mitchell's hard-on for support as the abuse kept coming at him from different angles. The fagdad watched through clenched eyes as Sir Mitchell grabbed the mattress and thrusted hard into his guts, pulsing hard as He released his second orgasm of the night. "Jesus, yes ... Oh man ... Keep it coming...." Once He finished, He pushed the fagdad off Him. "Wow. Amazing. Fucking fantastic fuck."
Sir Duncan sneered. "I guess it's my turn now. The fagdad must stay on all 4's there. Don't fucking move." Sir Duncan got behind the fagdad and rammed His erection balls deep in a single thrust. The fagdad cried out as his hole embraced the new cock inside him, and moaned as his own dick pressed against the pinpricks of its cage, "Oh god yes, Sir, please rape me, Sir. I need to be Your fuckbitch."
"Shut the fuck up, faggot. Let me enjoy raping your hole." Sir Duncan grabbed the fagdad's hips and pounded him harder than any woman could possibly want, reveling in the power. "Goddamn, this is good. I hope I'm ripping the pathetic fagdad into shreds. What a hot fuck..." It didn't take Him more than a minute to flood the fagdad's guts with His sperm. "Oh, man...." As He shot, the fagdad felt His cock pulse against his gland and he was almost ... but not quite ... able to cum in his forcibly-softened state. The agony was delicious and the fagdad moaned in joyous frustration.
Once Sir Duncan finished, He pushed the fagdad's ass off His prick. "Get over here and clean us both off, you pathetic scumsucker. Then suck that plug clean in gratitude for the training its provided." The fagdad smiled and obeyed, sucking the juice of the two women and his own fuckhole off the two frat Men, then wormed to the Chair and the plug to reverently suck it clean while the Sirs snickered. Once done, Sir Mitchell released his bound arms and ordered His mattress be put back on His bed. The fagdad obeyed and thanked Them both for the opportunity to serve Them and crawled into the cell taking Their dirty clothes with him and slept surrounded by the dirty clothes of the house's three Men. He caressed the fabric that held the scent of his Superiors and drifted into a blissful sleep.
In his dreams that night, the fagdad found himself spinning on a carnival ride, out of control, whirling wildly. At first, he thought he felt panic but then realized, no, this was exhilaration, and he was encouraging the ride to go even faster. He felt like he was finally alive.