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.
Thanks for all your votes. I'll post the results after the end of this chapter.
Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 28
Duncan watched the two pathetic fagslaves try to identify the men who created each of the four faggot cocktails in front of them. Good fucking luck.
Duncan had learned he loved being cruel. He could be a nice guy; hell, he often was. But when he was able to let out his inner demons like he could with these two faggots, his spirit soared. He could actually taste his sadism in the back of his throat. It was fucking delicious.
When he saw how the Deltas treated their bitchboy, he envied them. He loved the desperation in its eyes tinged with the realization that it was trapped in an eternal no-win situation. He hungered to see that look in the bitches he, along with Mitchell and Alexi, now owned. And this morning he had that chance. That cold, metallic taste he could find nowhere else was no rising is his throat, making his dick rise as well.
He watched the fagslaves sip at the men's piss, trying to identify each man's taste. They discussed the flavor as if they were wines, causing all the men to chuckle. Apparently Mitchell's piss was sweeter than the others and they were able to separate his right off the bat. Both of his. Dammit. And they were able to identify Alexi's piss because their cell had been drenched it in for months. Fuck. Well, that was the easy half. Let's see `em identify each man's cum.
Duncan smiled knowing what was about to be ahead for the fagdad if it was allowed to stay. Duncan had been idly wandering through its incoming email when he found a msg to it from some dude named Buck Thompson. Apparently the cocksucker's old boss. The note was dripping with the kind of sadistic glee that instantly told Duncan this guy was a kindred spirit. He showed the note to Alexi (Duncan respected authority and respected that Alexi's wisdom and resources made this fucking wet-dream possible), and they decided that Buck should have the chance to make good on his threats. As often as possible.
Goddamn it. The fagboy had figured out that by quickly sipping the men's piss and keeping the glasses upright, they could leave behind most of the cum (which was more dense and starting to pool at the bottom of the glasses), making it easier to sample their cum and determine whose was whose. They knew already which glass contained his and Alexi's piss, and therefore their cum, so they could see which one of Mitchell's glasses contained cum that tasted like that in the other glasses. Crap.
While the three men had decided what to do with the bitches earlier this morning, Duncan learned just how he and Alexi saw the cuntfaced faggots differently.
"I just don't see how it benefits us to toss the faggots to the Delta house, Duncan," Alexi said.
"As opposed to sending them to the compound? Does it make a difference?"
"Fuck yes. Not only can we be more confident of them thriving out there, but we also get those free memberships. It's win/win."
"Yeah, but do these faggots deserve to thrive? Isn't the point to be punishing them? Jesus, Alexi, they were trying to tell us what to do. What the fuck was all that about?"
"Yeah, I know. We've made the faggots need us. And that made them desperate. They need to learn that doesn't allow them to take desperate measures. They need to accept that desperation as a fact of their lives. So they can use it to better serve us."
"And what about that shit about telling us how to live the rest of our lives? Hell, what turns Me on is to find a woman who thinks like I do. Someone who'd enjoy abusing the hell out of the fagdad and teaching it to forever crave more. Turning its life into a heavenly hell that it hates and loves. Drive it fucking crazy." That taste, his new and secret addiction, was flooding his mouth.
Alexi chuckled. "Really? The fagboy kinda sold me on the idea of owning it and a female slave as well. An infinite variety of holes for me to own and use. Fuck, the power the fagbitch has given me...." Duncan wondered what Alexi was tasting at that thought.
But now the fagboy had crawled to the men and was softly begging to be allowed to speak the fagslaves' verdicts. Alexi nodded.
"Sirs, Master, it apologizes for going beyond its bounds this morning. It's learned that slaves should be seen and not heard."
"Yeah, so fucking stop apologizing and get to the goddamn point. Who's what is where, cuntface?" Mitchell and Alexi gave him surprised smiles.
"Sir Duncan, the red glass contained Your delicious cum and piss. The yellow glass was filled with Master's cum and piss. Sir Mitchell's piss was in both the blue and green glasses. His cum was in the blue glass, and Your cum, Sir Duncan, was in the green glass."
Holy fuck. Four out of four. Duncan instinctively punched his right fist into his left palm. The fagdad responded with a tremble, knowing where that fist was supposed to land. Alexi spoke up.
"OK, faggots. Your words proved true and you're both allowed to stay here and serve us. But you both understand by now that actions have consequences. And here are the consequences your actions have earned:
"From now on, you are denied speech. To us, from us, to each other. Not another fucking word from or to either of you. An occasional moan or groan, sure. But not another fucking word for the rest of your pathetic lives. All we want are actions.
"Neither are we ever to speak to you again. Never addressed, never spoken to. We will simply state what we want and expect it to happen. I don't expect to have to lower myself to acknowledge your fucking existence. The only reason any of us will have to speak to you is to tell you how just fucked up.
"Nobody gives a fuck what a fagslave has to say. And here's how we intend to remind you of that." Alexi stepped aside to reveal his tool chest, the box he used every day at work. From the top he pulled out some pliers and an adjustable wrench.
"Every morning for the next few weeks, right after breakfast, each of you are to take one of these tools and plead with us to use them on you. Every morning, a tooth will be pulled from your mouths by one of us. Until you're toothless and able to provide our cocks with even greater pleasure with the joy of gum jobs. Hopefully, by then you'll have fucking learned that a slave's mouth is only for input, never for output.
If you agree, then we start right now. Grab a tool and beg us. Both of you. Plead with us to make you better slaves. Without a goddamn word. Words are above fagslaves. Either that, or it's off to the compound. Get to it. Now."
Duncan watched the fagboy grab the pliers and crawl to Alexi. At his feet, the bitch started to lick and worship the metal in front of them all. Metal. Just like that magical taste in His mouth.
Duncan smiled cruelly as the fagdad grasped the wrench and crawled to Him. It locked the wrench around its left top incisor and caressed Him as it wrapped His hand around the stem of the wrench.
Duncan laughed as he twisted and yanked, making the fagdad yelp and making His cock throb. Alexi pulled out the fagboy's tooth at the same time. Mitchell just watched, shaking his head and smiling. "What'cha gonna do with the teeth?" he asked.
Alexi shrugged. "Good question. Maybe I'll wear a couple around my neck as a sign of ownership. What do you think, Duncan?"
"Sounds good to Me, man. Anything that reminds these animal cunts where they belong. In the meantime, I want to fuck a pathetic loser. There'd better be a fagdad in our room, hole spread open nice and inviting, within a minute." The fagdad scurried to comply. Duncan laughed, following it in. He licked the inside of His mouth in anticipation as he walked into his room and found the fagdad kneeling on the floor, hands shamelessly stretching its fuckhole open for rape.
"No, faggot." He punched its nutsack as punishment for having to acknowledge it, just like Alexi said. "Roll over like the brazen whore you are. So I can spit in your stupid face and show you how a Man makes love to a mute fagcunt." Duncan smiled, thinking how fucking wonderful it would be to feel and taste when he slugged the fagdad in the face as He shot His load up its guts. Fucking delicious.
And then he'd have to send an email to this Buck Thompson and invite him over. Show him how to use a punching bag fag.
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Thanks again for your votes, men (and non-men). It was interesting to watch the tally. The initial votes were almost entirely for both fagslaves to be shipped off to the compound. But as more votes came in the tide turned:
1 - both are shipped off: 4 2 - fagboy gets shipped: 4 3 - fagdad gets shipped: 9 4 - both fagslaves stay: 12
There will be a couple more chapters to the story. Stay tuned...