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.
WARNING -- some twisted shit in this and the following section. Literally.
Satanic Slave - Part 8
A faggot assumed that the conversation was the end of the meeting, but the Man was merely taking a rest.
"Swallow My Prick, suckboy. And stay there with lips at My pubes."
That was an honor. This Man had the most wonderfully unusual crotch. Most blonds' body hair, especially pubes, are darker than the hair on their head. This Man's Pubes, though, were an amazing platinum. He was well muscled; not the muscles of working out at the gym, but the muscles of real work.
A faggot swallowed Cock and slowly sucked air around the Man's Dick to breathe.
"Alright, faggot. Now, look Me in the eye."
This was a first. Faggots are trained to only focus on a Man's crotch and ass. It seemed best, though, to do whatever it took to make the Man happy. So a faggot looked at the Man's face.
And a faggot choked.
This man was fucking beautiful. His blond body hair exploded over His chest. His short hair and the goatee caressing His square chin created a beautiful blond frame for His steel blue eyes.
"Now pull back and stare back at My Dick. Blow Me properly, faggot, but every time you get to My pubes, look Me in the eye and show Me how fucking lucky you know you are."
That, Sir, will be a faggot's pleasure. As a faggot massaged His Prick with its tongue and throat, each look at His magnificent face developed a greater feeling of intimacy. Something that had not been felt or known in any Man's prior usage.
When He got close, He held a faggot's head against His pubes and stared right down into a faggot's soul as He shot. This was fucking amazing. A faggot almost came from the experience.
He then tethered a faggot into one of the rooms and left. A faggot's head spun for quite a long time after that. What the fuck was that? i knew nothing about the Man, and He knew nothing about me, but that intimacy was undeniable and breathtaking. Anonymous Intimacy. Fuck, what a concept.
Some time later (Days? Weeks? Months? How could a faggot tell?), He returned and once again pulled a faggot into one of the bedrooms. He laid a faggot on the bed, face up, and lowered His Ass onto its face, His back to its crotch so He could stare into a faggot's eyes and soul. "Eat My Butt, asswipe. Shove that faggot tongue as deep as it can go. French kiss My shithole. And don't take those cocksucking eyes away from My face."
Abso-fucking-lutely, SIR! A faggot made tender love to the Man's asshole and never tasted anything more wonderful. This beautiful unknowable intimate stranger. After a long period of tongue-massaging His hole, as it increasingly relaxed from a faggot's insistent tongue, a faggot felt something slowly sliding into its mouth.
A faggot stared deep into those Nordic eyes and smiled. Yes, Sir. Any gift from a Man like You is appreciated. A faggot swallowed and moaned. The Man smiled brightly and continued to feed. "Good little faggot. Make Me proud."
Proud? Proud of a faggot cocksucker? Hell yes, SIR. A faggot deepy sucked out His Hole. If depravity made this Man proud to be with a faggot, then a faggot would be the most depraved bastard the world has ever seen.
When He finished feeding and got up from a faggot's tongue, i prayed for more. Hands folded, kneeling, literally praying for more. "Please, Sir, what other perversities can a faggot perform for You, SIR? Whatever makes You proud, SIR, will be a joy to accomplish."
The Man chuckled softly. "One step at a time, kid." Kid? Wow. There didn't seem to be much of an age difference. A term of affection from this Man. A faggot was shortly thereafter once again leashed in a room wondering what the fuck was going on.
But something else was happening as well, something that had a palpable affect on every Man, and therefore every faggot, within the compound.
There was no dress code for Men here. Some stripped in the changing room and paraded themselves around stark naked, enjoying the hungry stares of every faggot who saw Them. Some stayed fully dressed and only freed Their Cocks after They pulled a faggot into whatever room They were about to use. Some walked around in jockstraps, knowing how faggots drooled to taste the fabric.
But recently Men came to the compound in long satin hooded robes. Deep blood red. The hoods completely covered Their heads. The robes were cut so only Their Crotches and Asses were revealed.
The Initiators had arrived and were respected and feared. Respected by Men because They had the power to bring Men into Their ranks. Feared by faggots because They had the power to pull us into deeper pits of the compound. What were those pits? A faggot could only imagine.
A faggot serviced the Initiators in fear. Well, honestly, in terror. Every Cock was worshiped, every Load was swallowed, praying aloud that They would not be displeased. They pulled a faggot into the family room and enjoyed a game of golf. "Kneel on the floor, cumslut. Now open wide. No, OPEN FUCKING WIDE."
A faggots jaws screamed in compliance. The Initiators took turns spitting into its open mouth, seeing who would be the first to make a "hole-in-one." A faggot was completely covered in spit before the game ended. It remained kneeling, drying and dripping, as all the Initiators simultaneously pissed into its mouth. "Don't lose a fucking drop, pee-brain." Given there were five streams at once, that was a losing battle. "Jesus fucking christ, look at that goddamn piss- and spit-covered floor. Scrub it clean with that cock-loving tongue. NOW."
Another Initiator chimed in. "Hey, piss-breath. This entire room is fucking filthy. Cum, spit and piss all over the place. Get every goddamn inch of this floor clean. If it's not fucking spotless by the time I finish this beer, there's only one conclusion to make: this faggot craves filth. And We know just what to do with such sickos." A faggot sucked as much of the goddamn floor clean as it could, but the Initiator was already half done with His beer when it started. It was no doubt time to suffer yet again.
A faggot was soon pulled out of the family room and down several hallways to a place it had never been before. The toilet.
Here Men (including the Initiators) relieved themselves. There were a few faggots lined up against the wall as urinals. They were completely covered in latex so as to not have any visual or physical connection with whoever was using them. As they recycled the fluids fed to them they had no choice but to piss in their own latex enclosures, living in piss for as long as the Initiators desired.
And then there were the stalls.
Each stall featured two faggots. One was kneeling outside the stall with its head shoved through the wall at waist height. Its forehead displayed its purpose: "TOILET PAPER". The other faggot, including this one, was housed within the toilet itself. Its jaws were propped open with dental gear and it was slid into the base of the john.
There wasn't a constant stream of Men wanting to take a crap, but there were many. Unable to chew because of the gear keeping its faggot jaws open, there was little choice but to use its tongue to manage the flow into swallows. This was awful work, especially since there wasn't even the opportunity to taste a Man's flesh. No intimacy like there was with the Viking (how a faggot described that blond God). No emotional support. A faggot wished it could be promoted to toilet paper. Yeah, how fucking sad is that.
A some point in this disgusting hell of raunch a man sat down and let out a massive fart. "Suck down My gas, you fucking sewer."
Oh my fucking god ... it was The Voice. The Man who seared a faggot's pathetic brain into becoming part of this world. A switch suddenly flicked on in a faggot's psyche and it unquestioningly obeyed, deeply inhaling His gas. He laughed and got up to leave. As He did, a faggot got a chance to look at His crotch.
A faggot gasped. That massive, whiskey-bottle Cock. It was Him. The Founder.