Once again, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. The narrative that follows did not happen to Me or to anyone else by Me. Don't contact Me to meet this slave. DO contact Me if you want to become this slave. Also contact Me with any praise, criticism, or suggestions. All feedback is good.
Satanic Slave - Part 10
It felt like fucking forever. Seriously. Like a faggot had been completely abandoned to be raped by wolves for the rest of its pathetic useless life. A faggot had lost any hope of rescue or closure to this unimaginable abuse.
Finally the doors opened and Initiators retrieved what was left of a shitsucking dogbitch. A faggot gratefully kissed any flesh its lips could touch. The slightest graze of human contact made its soul quiver.
A faggot was pulled, more than led, back into the toilet, this time to use it to empty the countless canine loads up its distorted fuckhole. It didn't envy the faggot underneath. It was too exhausted to think much of the furry blond legs extending from the base.
After a faggot finished emptying itself, it was led into the bar which was now locked and empty. A faggot tried to figure out what the fuck They had in store for it now. It was seated on a chair, something that had never happened to it all the while it had been a part of the compound, and locked into place. It was facing one of the walls where faggots' heads would be displayed for the amusement of the Men in the bar.
Suddenly there was motion on the other side of the wall. Another faggot was being installed. And then a faggot got to see who it was about to be used.
A faggot gasped to see the Viking about to be raped. This made no fucking sense. What the fuck was going on? A faggot cried out but there were no words for what it was feeling; all that came out was a loud, sickly moan.
A faggot was close enough to eventually notice the shit on the Viking's face and it started to weep. What had this Man done to be treated this way? And why was a faggot made to witness this? What the fuck was going on? A faggot then saw a paw over the Viking's shoulder and the headphones on His head and realized just what room He was in.
The inmates had taken over the asylum. Here was a Man, a beautiful Man to be worshiped and treasured. And instead he was being debased, humiliated, degraded and defiled. Being treated like the lowest fucking thing on the planet. Treated like it had been treated. Why? Fucking WHY???
The Viking looked straight out. A faggot wondered if He knew it was forced to watch Him being dog-raped. It looked straight into His eyes, trying to feed Him support through the 2-way glass that He'd probably never see or feel.
And then the Viking smiled and kissed the air between them. As if He could see it watching the hounds' attack of His flesh.
So did He allow this to happen? Surely he didn't WANT it to happen. There was no way to make any sense of this mess. The glass and the headphones made it impossible to communicate.
As much as a faggot wanted to know, a faggot didn't need to know. So it watched Him suffer an endless inhuman rape.
And suffer He did. A faggot had no choice but to watch Him bite his lip and cringe as mutt after mutt knotted His hole. This was an unbelievably cruel, hellish torture. For both the Viking and a pathetic faggot.
Finally, He was released. A faggot just sobbed at what it had been witnessing the many long (hours/days/weeks?). Eventually an Initiator came in to release a faggot from the bar. He led it up the hall to the main chamber of the compound. A faggot obediently kept its head down and its eyes focused on the Ass of its Superior as they entered the room. But once there, a faggot's attention was instantly diverted.
An amazingly complex design had been painted on the floor. The intricate system of lines seemed to pulse around a large pentagram at the center. Above the center of the pentagram, the beautiful Viking was hung by His wrists, arms spread wide. His ankles were spread out horizontally so He was bent into a sitting position in mid-air. Pushing against His beautiful but now impossibly-stretched Hole was a stone Phallus. His swollen Asslips had almost swallowed the impossibly wide Dickhead of rock. Loads of dogcum coated the Phallus, having dripped from His gaping Hole.
A faggot then realized that the Viking was pulling Himself up with His muscular arms; if He let go, His Hole would attempt to completely engulf the Phallus.
The Initiators then installed a sewer-faced faggot (me) so its lips were superglued halfway up His now steel-encased Cock. This was a horrible perversion of being milked. As the Viking released His arms, His Hole would rip to accommodate the unyielding Cock of Rock. So as He relaxed and tensed his arms, He would essentially be fucking Himself on the Phallus.
And a shit-eating cocksucker's mouth was encasing His cock, but unable to pleasure Him because of the cylinder now surrounding His meat. All it could do was rub the base of its tongue against the top of His Dickhead and suck down the endless ooze of His precum.
We both turned our heads as a tall, black-robed Man entered the room. The Founder definitely held our attention.
"Ah, faggots in service. What an inspiring sight."
Faggots? Was there more than one faggot in the room? It looked up at the Viking questioningly.
"You see, sewer-hole, this faggot posed as a man. Probably even to itself for its entire fucking life. Until it met the likes of you. It's because of you that it's here. This was to be your fate, shithead, but it volunteered to take your place."
A faggot's eyes started to water. It didn't even realize it had been training for anything. It thought of the agony of being in His position and tears ran down its face as it recognized the sacrifice He had made for it without it ever even knowing.
"Yes, you were being trained, and now this self-deceitful faggot is being trained instead. Trained to be of use during this facility's Consecration Ceremony. Trained to be fucked. By This."
The Founder then stepped out of His robe. Each of the Initiators fled to a corner of the pentagram, got on His knees and exposed His fuckhole to the Founder. We faggots had no option. Even if we had wanted to look away, The Founder's flesh had imprisoned our eyes.
He was angelic, powerful, and masculine beyond description. His head and body were covered in a glorious coat of dark auburn hair. It shone as if it were afire. His biceps, pecs, delts and abs were all a chiseled sculpture of muscle. His arms, legs, and head were five points demanding that all further attention be given to His inspiring Cock.
Yes, it was the same Cock that a faggot had been nursing in every room since becoming a part of the complex. It was a glorious obscenity of Cock. Massive beyond belief. Impossible to accommodate.
And it was going to be fucking the Viking.
"See, faggots. This is why My pets were needed to stretch out those fuckholes. They were merely appetizers of the feast of Cock you will be servicing for the rest of your lives.
"Yes, Erickson, I said that if you trained to serve Me, you two could be together forever after the Ceremony. But you were too stupidly pining for My sewerfaced cuntboy to ask for any details. Yes, together forever ... but only if you join the asswipe in eternal enslavement to My Prick. I don't want to hear a fucking word out of you now. After the Consecration, you can announce your decision to the entire room." He bent down to retrieve His robe, covered His flesh and left the room. A faggot's eyes, hell, its very soul, began some bizarre detox at no longer being able to see His majesty.
His fucking majesty. Yes. He was our King.