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Stories of The Slave Center The Nation's Leading Retailer of Trained Faggots _______________________
Master and His Pack Mule Part Seven
Disclaimer: This is a story of erotic fiction containing fantasy descriptions of Male-male slavery, which may include sexual acts, BDSM and nudity. It is a intended for adults only. You must be of legal adult age to read this work. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Master Joe squatted down so he could be eye to eye with me, still on all fours. "You happy to see me, slave? It's been a long time!"
I let my tongue droop out of my mouth and showed Master Joe my animal happiness. I panted and wiggled my ass. It all felt natural for me, as I was truly happy to be with Master Joe again. It had been a long time.
"It wants to kiss me, doesn't it? A good faggot like you? Yeah, it wants to give me a big, wet kiss, doesn't it?"
My whole countenance told him that I wanted to kiss him.
"Your Master already knows that I'm going to let you kiss me. I'm going to expect a nice long wet kiss, faggot. Make me feel wanted with kisses with lots of tongue. Can you do that, faggot? Kiss me long and deep?"
I could hardly hide my enthusiasm. "Master Joe, yes, Master Joe, please, Master Joe. It'll be my honor to kiss you, Master Joe, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
"Come on, then, let's make out!" Master Joe responded and began to walk away. As he did he turned back toward me and said, "Come!"
I immediately stood up and followed Master Joe. I was so eager to kiss him and my slave heart was already warm and grateful that I would be allowed to. I could hardly believe it.
Master Joe walked onto the patio and, to my surprise, behind Master's throne. He pulled out the slide-out platform and pointed for me to lie on it. He strapped me tightly in and slid my head under the seat of the throne. Then, he walked around to the front, got up on it, and sat on the rim seat.
His hairy asshole was right in front of my mouth. "First, smell it only, faggot. Smell only."
I sucked in the aroma of his man ass, that distinct musk that pleases most any faggot. He wriggled his ass around a bit as I continued to sniff. "I'm getting ready to kiss you, faggot."
I was breathing deeply, purely. The smell of his ass energized me. I really longed to kiss him now.
"Okay, faggot. You've waited patiently. So, I'll let you kiss me now. Come on. Go ahead. Kiss me!"
I reached my head up and kissed his asshole, my mouth lips to his ass lips, just how it should be.
"Yeah, that's how a slave kisses a man!" uttered Master Joe.
With that, he shifted position so that his ass came down into the seat more and his asshole landed right on my mouth, forcing my head back down. His ass pinned me there. I couldn't move my mouth away if I had wanted. I kissed my Master Joe over and over and over again. I used my lips. I used my tongue. I used my mouth to suck at his hole. I slurped and slurped and showed him my slave love. There's nothing quite like a man's asshole to soothe the faggot soul.
"That's a good slave. Kiss me. Show me you love me. Show me how much you appreciate your full enslavement. Get your tongue in there. That's right. Get it in! Good slave. Good faggot. Just keep kissing me."
After about 10 minutes I thought Master Joe would have had enough of my kisses, but his nephew, my master, came out onto the patio, took a chair facing toward Master Joe, and the two began a lengthy conversation, leaving me there to just keep kissing away. No matter, as I felt at home.
Sometime later Master Joe may have thought I was letting up, as he said, "Just keep kissing me, faggot. Suck on my asshole. I know what you want." Then he went right on conversing with his nephew.
I lost track of time. How long had I been kissing this man's asshole, slurping at it, making love to it? I had no idea, and it didn't matter. My masters knew the time, so I didn't need to.
My jaw muscles were getting tired, but I had my orders. So, I kept right on kissing the beautiful hairy hole at my lips, till suddenly Master Joe stood up and said, "Good faggot. You know where to kiss a man, don't you? That's right where you belong, slave."
I nearly shouted up from the bottom of the throne, "Sir, yes, Sir, Master Joe, Sir! It's my honor to kiss you, Sir! Thank you, Sir!"
I thought I was done kissing, but my Master Matt got up on the throne next, dropped his pants, and sat down. I inhaled as deeply as I could, trying to make my master's aroma a part of me. "Kiss your master, slave. Show me you know how lucky you are to be my property. Let me feel that mouth right on my asshole. I know what you like, and I know where you belong."
I continued the glorious task of kissing Master Matt and showing him my faggot love. I had earned my place of faggot privilege at his asshole, and I was going to enjoy it with everything I am.
Master sat on the throne and accepted my kisses as he and his Uncle Joe enjoyed their time together on the patio. Unbeknownst to me, the topic of their conversation had moved to the main purpose of why Master Joe was now visiting his nephew for the first time in about a year. I didn't know it yet, but my master was about to take a 2 and a half week vacation, and he wasn't taking his slave with him. So, he needed someone to take possession of me while he was away. Of course, Master Joe, who was so eager to own a slave again, quickly agreed to take me. This evening, then, was to be spent discussing details and parameters of my care and for Master Joe to get reacquainted with me and my current level of slavery.
I somehow picked up on their conversation being of some importance, so I began to listen while I kissed my master's asshole.
"You remember your cousin Kevin, my sister Ann's boy?" Master Joe asked my master.
"Yeah, I only met him a couple times though. He's what, like 10 years younger than me?" asked Master Matt.
"Yeah, well, he's 19 now and has a very strong interest in mastery. For his 19th birthday I gifted him with the Young Masters Series of Workshops at The Slave Center. He loved it. Learned a lot, too. I hope to have him at my place when your slave is there so he can gain some experience. I presume that's okay with you?" "Yeah, sure. Just make sure you watch him. I need to trust that nothing bad is going to happen to my slave. So, I guess I'd rather you not leave him alone with my faggot, unless you're really sure he is a responsible young master."
"Well, I sure think he is, but I will take full responsibility and keep an eye on him."
When they had finished their conversation, Master Matt stood up from his throne and pulled up his pants. Both Master Matt and Master Joe retrieved me from under the throne, and I was immediately ordered to kneel in the grass with my mouth wide open and waiting. Master Joe went first, as he was still nude. He stood before me with his legs in a strong stance, moved his dick to within about an inch from my mouth, and let his piss fly. I gulped it down as best I could, hardly spilling a drop. Delicious, as usual. Lucky me.
Next came Master Matt. It was always such a beautiful sight to see him standing in front of me as he undid his jeans, whipped out his cock, aimed toward my mouth, and pissed. I gulped his gift down and loved it. Again, I hardly spilled a drop.
As soon as Master Matt had his jeans closed again, Master Joe said to me, "Here, slave. Let's get you cleaned up." I followed him to the hose coiled near the spigot and knelt in my usual slave present position. He grabbed the hose, turned the water on, and hosed down my face and mouth. "We don't need a dirty faggot cooking dinner for us, do we?"
"Master Joe, no, Master Joe, Sir. Thank you, Master," I answered as water sprayed into my mouth.
When he determined I was clean enough, Master Joe said, "Your masters are ready for dinner, so get it started."
"Masters, yes, Masters, thank you, Masters. It is my responsibility to serve you, Masters." I immediately rose to my feet and hightailed it to the kitchen. I retrieved everything I had set aside earlier in the afternoon and took it all out on patio to prepare my masters' meal on the patio grill.
The masters lounged around, enjoyed talking to each other, had a second beer, and got up and went into the house for a while. By the time they came back outside, Master Joe was fully dressed again, with his whip and cane at his sides.
I had their meals ready to serve. I placed them on the patio table and knelt facing Master Matt, just to the side of him, while he sat at table, as I had been trained to do for every meal. I thanked him for the honor of serving him and Master Joe. Before he began eating, Master Matt took tit clamps from his pocket and put them where they are supposed to be. "Good slave. Stay." And so I stayed in my kneeling position, silent and unmoving, while my masters ate. Some 10 minutes into their meal my cock rose to full mast, feeling the effects of the tit clamps. They hurt, but I was trained to remain still and just process their power. Master Joe noticed my hard on and said, "I think we've got a happy faggot there."
Master Matt turned and looked. "Yeah, it's a good slave. My dad may have been too light in his mastery, but he sure knew how to pick a good slave."
"Yeah, my brother was always kind of the quiet intellectual. I guess he just didn't want any more out of this slave than what he was getting. You want more, though, don't you?"
"Sure do. I want it all, all the time."
"Good. You and I are a lot alike that way. Absolute slavery, that's what I believe in."
"That's right. It's the only way to go," my master responded.
I could only listen to and admire them. I felt that I was in the right place with the right men. I yearned to always be their good slave, their faggot-animal, their property, their servant. Lately, with Master tightening the screws of my slavery, I seemed to be able to think of nothing else but how best to serve him. How appropriate and how delicious it all felt to me.
Upon finishing their meal, Master Joe said that he'd like to feed me. Master Matt said, "Sure!" and told him where the faggot feed was kept. Master Joe poured the feed into my bowl, poured in a cup of hot water and mixed. "Is this about right?" he showed it to Master Matt. "Yep. Looks like it."
Master Joe set the bowl of faggot feed on the patio right in front of me and said for me to eat. I did, and was grateful to do so for him.
"You probably know, but since my dad bought this slave, that is the only thing it has ever eaten. Three meals a day of The Slave Center's best faggot feed."
"Good! Sounds right," Master Joe returned. "It's pretty tasteless stuff as I understand, but very nutritious. That's all an owner needs to feed his faggot-animal."
"So, the only real taste this slave has had in years is piss! Plus whatever it gets when cleaning my asshole and my sweat," stated my Master Matt.
"Well, I think that's the only thing a slave ever should taste, don't you? Maybe some day you'll feed it your shit, and then it will get a load of something really special. I bet it would eat it up and like it."
"Yeah, well, maybe. I don't know if I'm there yet," my Master Matt responded.
"Oh yeah? Well, just don't cut yourself off from it if it ever feels like the right thing for your slave and its slavery. I know some slaves absolutely love eating their master's shit. My friend Alan's slave loves it. You should see the shit-eating grin it gets on its face when it's enjoying a good meal."
I finished my usual faggot meal and knelt upright. Master Matt removed my tit clamps. "Clean up time, slave."
"Master, yes sir, Master. Right away, Master," and I quickly set to cleaning up after their dinner.
I cleared the table and dealt with the dirty dishes. When finished, I found the men seated on the patio. So, as is protocol, I went and knelt before my master. When Master acknowledged my presence, I said, "Master, yes, Master. Thank you, Master. How may your slave continue in your service, Master?"
Master Joe stood up and stepped behind me. In a flash, he had locked my wrist cuffs together behind my back. Master Matt explained, "We don't want you right now, slave. So your Master Joe is going to put you away for a while."
Master Joe then grabbed me by an earlobe and dragged me to the other end of the patio. I hadn't seen it, but Master Joe apparently had taken his cane from his hip. When we reached the end of the patio, he whacked me 3 times, very quickly, very hard. I gasped and was near tears. "That's right. You're pure property. We'll come get you when we need you." With that, he let go of my ear and gave me a shove downward, where I, for the first time, saw a small cage. Master Joe must have brought it with him. "Get in!"
"Master, yes, Master. Thank you, Master." There was barely enough space for me to fit in, but I did, with my wrists locked behind my back. I heard Master Joe put a lock on the cage. I had virtually no space to move around, but I did have a drip style water bottle right in front of my face. Master Joe threw a blanket over the cage and left me in darkness. I heard him walk away.
So, what could I do? What could I think and feel? If I was not wanted by my Masters, then I was meaningless. So, I drifted off into nap land, accepting that I had been ordered to rest until such time as they required my services again. And with every beat of my heart, in every waking moment, I vowed to be a good obedient slave when they released me, for that is what they wanted from me and, possibly more importantly, that is what I wanted to be.
Master Matt and Master Joe went into the house. "I could call your cousin Kevin and see if he could come over and meet you now. What do you think?"
"Yeah, if he can make it. What, he lives in Sunderland, about 30 minutes from here?"
"Yeah, he still lives at his mother's place."
"Okay. Good. I'd like to meet him now that he's all grown up and get an idea of how he might be around my slave."
"Right. Thought so."
About 40 minutes later, Kevin arrived at Master Matt's house. Master Matt hardly recognized his own cousin, for Kevin was probably only 11 years old when he had last seen him. Now, at age 19, he was a full grown master: 6'4", strong build, big hands, great smile. Master Matt could see that he had the family genes as his big cock showed prominently through his Levi's.
The men caught up on old times, family memories, and some `how are they now" questions. They talked for 90 minutes, easily. Much of the discussion concerned Mastery and the right, ethical, and effective ways of owning a slave.
Finally, Kevin asked, "So, where is your slave?"
Master Joe responded, "I've got it caged outside. Are we ready to get it out?"
Master Matt said, "Yes, but let me get something for Kevin first. I think it's best to introduce my slave to another of its Masters in a fitting way." He left the room and came back with a coiled up small single tail whip. "You sure you know how to use one of these?"
"Yeah. I got plenty of practice in the Slave Center Mastery workshops. And, I tell you, I sure loved using one."
"Well, when you use it right, it's good for the Master and for the slave. I'm sure you've heard this, but it bears repeating: Always make sure what you do is good for the slave and its slavery, and not just for what you want for yourself, or for what you think is somehow cool or your right. And never do anything in anger. And never do anything while high or drunk."
"Yeah, don't worry. I understand. That's kind of a mantra at The Slave Center: Only do what is in the best interest of the slave."
"That's right. Wise words," Master Joe chimed in.
Master Matt helped Kevin hitch the whip at his waist. "There, now you look like Master Kevin."
"Oh, it felt good hearing you call me that!"
"Okay, I get it," Master Joe began. "Then why don't we all use our "Master" titles tonight. I'm Master Joe, this is Master Matt, and you are Master Kevin. How's that? Do we agree?"
All agreed and began using the title of Master whenever they called each other by name. For Master Kevin, this was a big deal, a real moment in his life, to be called Master Kevin by other men. He had never been called his title outside of his Slave Center workshops.
"Master Kevin. God, I love it! It sounds good and just feels so RIGHT!" Master Kevin explained. "Thanks. This is a big night for me."
"Good, then let's hear you say it out loud. Who are you?" Master Joe suggested.
"Yeah, let's hear it. We want to hear it," Master Matt agreed. "Stand proud and tell us who you are."
Master Kevin actually took a more manly stance, stood taller, and owned his title, "I am Master Kevin. My name is Master Kevin."
"Yeah, that's it. I believe it. Suits you just right, Master Kevin!" Master Joe responded.
"Who would have thought that the kid cousin I knew years ago would grow up to be Master Kevin? But I gotta admit, it suits you. I believe it, Master Kevin!" Master Matt added.
"Yeah, feel the truth of it, Master Kevin, but learn and accept the responsibility that comes with it," Master Joe stated.
"Yeah, can't just take the fun and good without taking the responsibility of ownership," Master Matt agreed. "We've got to treat slaves right, just like we do our cars and pets. Isn't that right, Master Kevin?"
"Yeah. Understood. A man earns mastery via right actions and trustworthiness. I learned that at my Slave Center workshops. So, don't worry. I understand, and it makes sense," Master Kevin offered.
Master Joe, wanting to get to some action, said, "So, are we ready to get the slave out of its cage?"
"Well, yeah, I sure am," Master Kevin said eagerly, "but now that we've come this far, I feel like I should change into my mastery workshop pants. I still have them from The Slave Center. I brought them just in case. They're in my car."
"Cool, we'll go get them and put `em on," Master Joe responded.
Master Kevin quickly went to his car and retrieved the pants in question. He asked where he should change, and the men said right there in the living room, that there was no reason to go to some other room to change. Master Kevin didn't hesitate. He kicked off his shoes and turned and dropped his jeans. Masters Joe and Matt noticed the young master wasn't wearing underwear and noted his round, muscular young ass. Master Kevin put on the pants and turned back toward the men.
His Slave Center pants were a tight khaki that hugged his thighs and ass. In front, rather than having a typical fly, the pants sported a nearly sheer pouch for the young man's goods. The two more experienced masters noticed the formidable bulge in the nearly see-through fabric. Master Kevin's cock was clearly visible. The size and shape were on display, and even his hair showed through.
"Damn, Master Kevin, you are hung like a horse! You are truly blessed with our family genes!" stated Master Joe.
"Yeah, my slave is gonna love you!" Master Kevin stated the obvious.
"So, how big is that thing?" queried Master Joe.
"About 9 inches and really thick," Master Kevin stated, cupping his package with is right hand and giving it a little shake.
Master Matt retrieve the whip still attached to Master Kevin's jeans and handed it to Master Kevin, saying, "Those pants have a place for this, right?"
"Yeah, thanks, Master Matt. It attaches right here," and Master Kevin affixed the coiled whip at his right hip.
"Cool. So, last thing is I think we should all take our shirts off. That'll give my slave a kind of thrill when we get it out of its cage."
The men removed their shirts and then stood there, kind of admiring themselves, or at least taking stock of themselves. Master Matt was still a young man, in good shape, with reasonably toned muscles, a lightly hairy chest, and a pronounced treasure trail from his navel on down. Master Joe, now in his late 40s, remained fit also, replete with a heavy amount of dark hair all over the front of his torso. He was all man, as some would say. Then, there was Master Kevin, now only 19. He stood a good 4 or 5 inches taller than the other masters. Still being a soccer player at his college, he had a very athletic body. And he was naturally smooth, with no chest hair or treasure trail at all. The three formed a kind of smorgasbord for faggots.
"Okay. ready? Let's go get the slave!"
The three masters went out onto the patio and to the cage, but before they removed the blanket covering the cage, Master Matt asked, "Why don't we let Master Kevin unlock the cage and get the faggot out?"
Master Joe smiled and gestured his approval, then he handed over the key.
Master Kevin walked up the cage and withdrew the blanket. He was about to unlock a simple cage, but in actuality he was unlocking the door to his own mastery and his true authentic self.
I crawled out of the cage as best I could, with my wrists locked behind my back and my body tight from not being able to move for so long. I knelt and spread my knees, raised my torso and head, and beheld three men standing before me, all shirtless gods, as far as I was concerned. The young one, in the middle, was someone I had never seen before. I noticed his size first, and his amazing chest. But then I saw his pouch, and I gasped for the beauty of it.
I regained my composure and looked up toward their faces, which were looking down upon me. Each man had his arms folded across his chest and stood still in a firm stance. I was the naked being on its knees in front of them, totally hairless and wearing only steel wrist and ankle cuffs and a wide steel slave collar, all permanently welded on.
I was their property, and it was my place to serve them. I took in the vision of manhood that stood before me and let my self, my spirit, and all that I am, drift out of my body and into theirs. They owned me, after all. All of me.
I turned my face up proudly so that I looked into theirs. Then, I stated as clearly and honestly as I could, "Masters, thank you, Masters. How may this slave serve you, Masters?"
Their evening was about to begin.