First, the disclaimers. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. 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 7
Ryan was going fucking nuts. It was currently day 20 and although the worst of it seemed to be over for Ryan, the inability to touch or use his cock was still devastating. He couldn't think of anything else but orgasm. Of stroking his meat. Or at least getting hard.
Mitchell and Duncan had been especially cruel these past few days. Instead of sucking them off, they insisted on jerking off all over his locked crotch. And yesterday was even worse: he had to lie in bed between them and jerk them both off while his own prick pulsed against the pinpricks preventing anything close to an erection. He sobbed as he was told to lick up their loads from their bellies.
After he completed that task to their satisfaction, they told him to come back to their frat house at 9AM. That was now and here he was, at the Gamma Tau house, kneeling at the front door and scared to death that some stranger would answer his knock and see him kneeling like some pledge.
"Hello, faggot. Sleep well?" Mitchell asked. Sleep had been impossible now for nearly a week. Lying in bed inevitably led to dry-humping the mattress until that became too painful to bear.
"The best I could, Sir."
"Good. We need you well-rested for today's chores. Follow Me." Mitchell led Ryan upstairs and into the second door on the right, a bathroom. The frat house was built as a small dorm. There were sets of three rooms: 2 bedrooms flanking a shared bath. Three sets of three rooms on each side of the hall, and an identical setup on each of three floors. A total of 18 baths and 36 bedrooms for 72 guys. They were in the bath for Mitchell & Duncan's room and the bedroom of two of their Gamma Tau buddies. "Your job today is to clean our toilets. All of them. Hand scrubbed clean. No spots, no dirt. When you finish each toilet, you are to knock on one of the bedroom doors and ask for your work to be inspected. Any stains or dirt we find will be licked clean." Mitchell tossed him a sheet with 18 signature lines on it. "Have each bathroom inspected and signed off by one of the Gammas who uses it. The completed sheet comes back to me. Got it, fagboy?"
"Yes, Sir. Everyone here knows that I'm your slave? They'll be ok with me knocking on their door?"
"Not everyone has seen you, bitchboy, but everyone knows about you, yes. Good point, though; we should make it very clear who and what you are." Mitchell chuckled and pulled out a marker from his jeans pocket. "Kneel and remove your fucking shirt."
Ryan stripped off his T-shirt and got on his knees. "F..." Mitchell spelled out as he wrote across Ryan's back. "A .... G .... S .... L ... A ... V ... E. There, fagslave. Just so there's no misunderstandings." He started to close the marker and shook his head. "No, that's too subtle." He moved Ryan's head into profile and wrote on his right cheek. "Cum..... Eating .... Homo." And onto his left. "Cock ... Starved .... Queer". Then on his neck Mitchell drew an arrow pointing up to Ryan's mouth. At the base of the arrow, on Ryan's collarbone: "U ... R ... I ... N ... A ... L. In case anyone needs to take a piss while you're cleaning his john. OK, fagbitch. You've got 24 hours and all your supplies."
"Supplies, Sir? I don't see anything here. Where's the scrubbing powder, or the scrub brush?"
"Scrubbing powder? What, your arms are too weak to scrub on their own?"
Ryan sighed, "No, Sir."
"And your clothes are too good for our toilets?"
"Of course not, Sir. I'll get right to work, Sir." Ryan sighed and tossed his T-shirt in the john and started rubbing and scrubbing to get off all the stains inside.
"Remember, dicksuck: any stains we see get licked up, so make damn sure our toilets are fucking spotless. And if any Gamma Tau wants to use the john you're cleaning, open wide and swallow his piss for him. And you are one lucky fagbitch; it's the week before Memorial Day Weekend; almost everyone not in class is here studying for exams. So get to work."
It took about 20 minutes for Ryan to knock on Mitchell's door. "Please, Sir, could you sign your approval for my cleaning of your toilet?" Mitchell got up and followed Ryan into the bathroom. "What the fuck is this? I didn't just mean the john, shithead. The entire room. John, shower, sink, floor, everything fucking spotless. Since you clearly didn't understand, I'll give you a second chance."
"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir. But my T-shirt is filthy at this point and I have nothing else to use."
"You've got more clothes, stupid. And you can always wash them clean and reuse them. Of course, doing that probably dirties up the sink a little, so you'll have to re-clean it before inspection." Mitchell turned around and left a dumbstruck slave stripping off his jeans to scrub clean the filthy floor of the fratboys' bathroom.
And it was fucking filthy. It had probably been at least a year since the floor was last cleaned. Ryan didn't even try to figure out what some of these stains were. And it didn't really matter. All that was important was that he scrub those stains out. Soon Ryan was stark naked, his T-shirt, jeans, boxer briefs, and socks all dripping dry in the shower. Ryan used his t-shirt to mop up the drips from his other clothes and then padded back to Mitchell's room, stark naked. "Please, Sir, would you inspect a cocksucker's work in scrubbing your bathroom clean and sign off your approval, Sir?"
Mitchell looked everything over and got his pen out of his pocket. "Everything looks damn nice, cuntface ... except .... Seems to me there's a huge puddle of piss on the floor."
Ryan's face shot down to see where he'd missed. "Sir? Where, Sir? I don't see it, Sir."
"Right here, faggot, at my feet." Ryan had pulled his prick out of his boxers and was pissing on the floor. "Better lick it up if you want my signature." Ryan shot his head to the floor and started slurping up Mitchell's piss. Mitchell started cracking up. "Fuck, you are a pathetic piece of shit. I fuckin' love it." Ryan finished slurping and licking up Mitchell's rank urine from the floor. "Please, Sir? Do you approve, Sir?"
"Kneel like a footstool and I'll sign the paper on your back." As he signed, he said. "One more thing, bitch. I forgot to put one more mark on your face. Face me now." Mitchell began to write on Ryan's forehead with the heavy marker. "S ... U ... C ... K ... H ... O ... L ... E". And then an arrow pointing down his nose into his mouth. "Some of my frat buddies aren't all that smart and need to be told these kinds of things. OK, cuntface. One down and 17 more to go. Get to fucking work."
Ryan went across the hall and started cleaning. About 10 minutes in, while he was elbow deep down the john scrubbing out some unknown mess with his T-shirt, one of the bedroom doors opened. "What the fuck?"
Ryan turned beet red. "Yes, Sir. I'm Mitchell and Duncan's slave here to clean all your toilets, Sir."
"Shit, yeah, I forgot about that." He chuckled. "Man, so you really do exist, huh? I figured it was all talk with those two."
"No, Sir. I'm their slave, Sir." Ryan remembered what was written across his back. "Their fagslave, Sir."
"Yeah, that's clear. And their cum-eating homo and their cock-starved queer. And ..." his eyes went down to Ryan's chest, "their urinal as well, huh? Good. I gotta take a wicked leak."
"I was told that anyone needing to use the john while I'm cleaning it can just piss down my faggot throat, Sir." Ryan knelt at this stranger's feet and opened his mouth. The fratboy shrugged his shoulders and undid his shorts.
"OK, fagslave. Drink up." He was a little pee shy, but it didn't take long for his full stream to be battering against the back of Ryan's throat. Ryan worked to open his throat so the flow would just puddle in his guts. The piss finally receded and the fratboy slid his cock back in his shorts. "Jesus. I can't believe fuckwads like you exist. That's fucking disgusting." He slapped Ryan hard across the face. "That's for being alive, faggot. Every day a queer like you is alive, you should be slapped in the face."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you for your piss, Sir, and the attention you gave me." Mitchell and Duncan had put Ryan through a similar routine when he first begged them for their cocks.
"Knock on my door for my signature when you think this room is clean, faggot." This bathroom was even filthier than Mitchell's. Apparently the guys here jerked off and let their cum drip down the walls. Ryan contemplated licking the walls clean but figured it'd go faster if he just scrubbed. It took about 35 minutes for him to knock on the fratboy's door.
"Sir, could you please inspect my work on your bathroom, Sir?"
This Gamma Tau really was a jaw-droppingly handsome man. Blond and blue-eyed, corn-fed midwestern type. Beautiful skin and face. Slender, but well-muscled. "Looks clean to me, bitch. But there's one problem."
"Yes, Sir?" Ryan expected another puddle of piss on the floor. Thank God this guy had already dumped a bladderful down Ryan's throat.
He pointed at Ryan's forehead. "It says here that your mouth is a suckhole. I haven't been sucked yet. To me, that's false advertising."
"Sir, would you like me to suck you off, Sir?"
"If you want my signature, shithead, then you'll worship my goddamn cock until I empty out a load."
Ryan wrapped his arms around the fratboy's ass and started to tongue his prick through his shorts. That earned him a fast slap across the face. "No. I don't want to feel any goddamn hands on my body. No contact but my cock inside your goddamn throat." Ryan held his hands behind his back as he started sucking, rocking back and forth on this stranger's cock. It took about 15 minutes, but the guy eventually sighed deeply and shot deep down Ryan's throat.
"Thank you for your nourishing cum, Sir!!"
"Jesus. You fucking depraved whore." He spat across Ryan's face, signed the paper, and tossed it on his lap.
The other 16 bathrooms were completed the same way. It was about 3AM when Ryan was finishing the last bathroom. His clothes were shredded from scrubbing so hard. He stunk of piss from the many loads he'd swallowed. (Apparently word got around about his urinal services.) He had licked up stains on the floor or around the rim of the toilet in 3 of the bathrooms, but he finally got all the signatures he needed. Except this one.
He knew better than to wake up any of the Gamma Taus for inspection, so he waited until one came into the bathroom to take a leak. "Please, Sir, could you sign off on my cleaning of your bathroom? I'll happily swallow your piss, Sir, if you'd like."
"I need to piss, yes. But it's going to take more than that to get my signature, faghole."
"Whatever you want, Sir."
"I want to rape your fucking face. Grab hold of your head and fuck your goddamn throat like a cunt. Bruise up your throat and lips so you're too swollen to swallow for a few days. Mark your fucking throat as mine."
Ryan crawled up to him slackjawed "Sir, whatever you want, Sir." He was immediately sorry he said it. The fratboy pulled out a massive prick. At least 10 inches long and as thick as a jackhammer. It was already starting to drip salty precum as the fratboy placed the head of it in Ryan's mouth. "Enjoy this rape, faggot. You'll be dreaming about it for the rest of your fucking life." He grabbed the back of Ryan's head with both hands and pulverized his face for the next 20 minutes. He stayed rock hard and simply slowed down his fuck while he shot spray after spray of hot piss into Ryan's guts. The only way Ryan could breathe was to have his lungs sucking in constantly, pulling in air when they could. This meant the fratboy was literally choking Ryan, so he set a rhythm so Ryan could keep time with his ramming. His thrusts were raping and scraping Ryan's throat, bruising both his throat and his lips with cruelly barbaric force. When the fratboy's monster cock finally shot, it was far enough down Ryan's throat that he never got a taste of his seed. The fratboy pulled out, smacked Ryan across the face, and sneered: "You fucking parasite. You'll be begging me for a repeat of that for the rest of your fucking life. Ain't gonna happen. One rape per fag." Ryan hung his head, knowing the fratboy was right.
After the fratboy went back to bed, Ryan tore his jeans down to shorts, put those on, and started to toss the rest of his defiled, shredded clothes into the trash bin, but changed his mind at the last moment. He slid the completed approval sheet under Mitchell's door and collapsed in his car, using his clothes soaked and stained with the piss, cum, and raunchy filth of dozens of frat boys as his pillow. He awoke after a few hours and drove back home, now knowing without a doubt that he was the lowest of the low, a pathetic insatiable hole aching to be raped in both ends and to be used in the most depraved ways possible.