First, the basics. This is, once again, a work of FICTION. Real-life considerations will take a back seat to erotic pleasure and story-telling; this slave, these Masters do not exist. Wanna change that? Or just wanna share comments/praise/criticism? Fine: Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com
Copyright 2011
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The House Fag, Chapter 11
Months came and went and the routine continued. I was only free to leave my cell when neither of my Owners were around or on the rare occasion one of Them called me out. Sometimes this would happen for repeated nights at a time, but more often, I could go days or weeks without either of Them having any sexual use for me. I hungered for Them and I prayed for those events. Although I was always grateful when one of Their cocks slid through the glory hole, I even more missed the chance to just look at Their incredible bodies and handsome faces. It was probably just a product of my ever-growing isolation. My only constant companions were the Pony and the program that kept etching itself into my faggot brain. I craved just being allowed to see my Lord or Master and I would gush my gratitude in no uncertain terms when I was given that opportunity.
"Oh, God, thank You, Master Thomas. Thank You for allowing me to look at Your magnificence. How can I thank you, Master Thomas, Sir?"
The answer to that question would vary. Sometimes He wanted to jerk off using my fag skull. Sometimes He wanted His feet worshipped while He watched TV. Sometimes He wanted to chill as His mouth-watering blond pits were adored. And sometimes He wanted His butthole washed from under the recliner. But mostly were the cruel nights when He merely wanted His fag to hunger, kneeling inches away from His flesh, just out of reach.
Anything He wanted, He got. And Lord Zachary, too, of course.
Sometimes I was used as a perk for Their friends. There were cocks sliding into my cell that I didn't recognize. Didn't matter. I was kept in such a relentless state of arousal that I fervently worshipped any and all cocks that were given to me. And, of course, I paid for the privilege of being allowed to suck them off. I wondered what would happen once my life savings were completely used to pay Men for the honor of swallowing Their cum and piss and sucking on Their assholes.
One evening Master Thomas and His friends were all in the family room. I think they were watching a game on TV. I was surprised to hear my name being called out.
"Hey, fag, come on out here. Bring your cash. All of it." I'd just gotten a check cashed by Him earlier that day, so I had to bring out all ten stacks of singles.
I humbly crawled into the room. The game was still on, but that wasn't the focus of attention. There was a card table and chairs set up. Amongst the chairs circling the table was Master Thomas' recliner. The Men were out on the patio where I couldn't really see more than a glimpse of Them. "Leave the stacks of fag-cash at the side of my recliner and crawl in, fag. Get to work." I crawled into the recliner, face up, and proffered my tongue through the slit. "That's a good fag." Somebody sat on my tongue and I started to make love to His hole. "Yeah, just like that, fag." It was Master Thomas.
He then spoke to His friends, who apparently had re-entered the family room. "Okay guys, so we're all clear on this, right? Texas Hold `Em. But the added bonus is that whoever wins the hand gets to sit here," He paused as He once again squirmed against my faggot tongue, "during the following hand. And gets a dollar for every minute that next hand lasts, paid by the fag. Once you lose your $100, plus any fag income, you're out of the game." I moaned in appreciation of His generosity. A bunch of hot firemen's holes for me to make love to. Even if I never got to see them, it was still a dream come true. "Quiet down, fag. Nobody wants to hear from you."
I went to work licking, sucking, and cleaning the hole wrapped around my tongue. I could hear the rounds of bidding and the reactions as cards were revealed. A hand was won, not by Master Thomas, and soon a new butt was lowering itself onto my hungry faggot tongue. "Somebody note the time, so we know how many minutes and how many dollars Chet gets."
"Jesus, Tom. This feels fucking amazing. I never had somebody actually kiss my ass before."
"Just keep winning, Chet. It doesn't matter, I'll get it all from you at the end. That's the best part of this game. There's only one winner."
"How about we sweeten the pot, Tom?"
"What'cha mean, Brad?"
"Whoever wins at the end of the night gets the fag for their days off next week."
"Nice idea, but what's in it for me? I already own the fagbitch. What are you guys gonna possibly give me that's as good as my own fag?"
That shut everybody up. Nobody had anything to offer. I was relieved.
Hands were won, hands were lost. Assholes were worshipped. And worshipped. And worshipped. Hot, tangy, musky, masculine Fireman holes repeatedly opened themselves up for my eager faggot tongue. I was in fucking heaven. It was rare to be used by Men besides Master Thomas and Lord Zachary. Even more rare to be allowed to tongue Their asses. And now I was paying only a dollar a minute to feast on a buffet of hot Fireman ass. I was such a lucky little faggot.
And then it occurred to me. Just how fucking thorough Their training and programming had been. I never liked eating ass. Never. I did it for Master Thomas because I was so fucking horny for Him.
And now, I'm eating ass for hours. And loving every second of it. I can't get deep enough inside them. So desperate. So hungry. So eager to serve.
I WORSHIP ASSHOLES
I NEED TO OBEY
I EXIST TO SERVE
MY JOB IS TO GIVE MEN PLEASURE
I NEED TO EAT RIPE ASS
Yes, Master Thomas. Yes, indeed. My eyes were watering from the discomfort but there was no fucking way I was tearing my tongue out from Their deeply flavorful holes. I suffered hours of physical stress just to show these Men how grateful I was for Their use. How glad I was to pay Them to kiss Their magnificent asses. And They were counting the minutes with a timer, demanding payment for each minute of rapture I was allowed to enjoy.
I have no idea who won that night. Such things don't concern a fag like me. Only the pleasure of Men concerned me at that point. Just the way I was being re-programmed.
"Alright, fag. Take the rest of your money and crawl back into your suite. Game's over. I'm sure some of my buddies here want to get blown. But none of them want to look at some pitiful fag while it's happening."
I silently crawled out from the recliner, my body shivering in relief, and back into my cell with the remaining cash. The game must have lasted just two or three hours, because I'd only spent about three of the ten stacks of fifty. I closed the door and sat on the Pony, staring at the program.
I NEED COCK TO SURVIVE
I NEED DELICIOUS CUM
I NEED NUTRITIOUS PISS
I NEED TASTY ASSHOLES
Fuck. The program was, as always, digging my submission even deeper. I would no longer just want cock. I would need it. And then I thought about that first day on the patio. No, I already did need it. They're just reinforcing what's already there. Fucking geniuses. Perfect hypnosis. Find the need and bring it out.
I NEED MY MASTER
I NEED MY LORD
And there were Their faces, looking down at me. Master Thomas' friendly smile. Lord Zachary's cruel, seductive smirk. Lightning flashes on the screen before They were gone.
I ached to slide back a fraction of a second of time and bring those images back. I sighed, wondering when I would next be allowed to see Them. Then the glory hole cover slid back and a hard, dripping Fireman Cock was insisting It be sucked. I slid ten singles on top of It through the hole as payment.
I obediently, enthusiastically, desperately, adoringly worshipped the Meat. I slid my tongue around Its foreskin, pulling up any grime that had been there. I sucked in my cheeks, maximizing Its contact with my flesh and I pulled forward and back, fucking It with my mouth. I needed to convince this Man, all Men, that there was no place on earth that could provide as much pleasure as I could right here.
"Fuck."
That word was all the validation I needed. I worked even harder to tickle His pleasures with my mouth, tongue, and throat. Silently coaxing this Stranger to feed me His seed and His pleasure.
"Oh, FUCK!"
That was His vocal confirmation of what my throat already knew, feeling the spasming of His Prick as my gut received His gift. Moments later, He pulled out. Soon after, another Fireman Dick, another ten bucks, and another chance to be validated as the cockwhore I had been trained to become.
I later realized that either Master Thomas had invited more friends, or maybe even complete strangers, as I gratefully worshipped Prick after Prick after Prick. Cut. Uncut. Black. White. Latin. Asian. Thick. Thin. Large. Small. There seemed to be no end to the Cocks I was being allowed to pay to make love to that night. Each made me hungrier than the last. I became His insatiable fagsuck. The drool from my own fagdick was puddling at my faggot feet. My fagnuts were unbearably swollen with pent up fagjizz.
I AM FAGSCUM
MY MASTERS DESERVE BETTER THAN ME
I AM LUCKY TO SERVE SUCH MEN
I CRAVE COCK
I AM A FACELESS BRAINLESS SLAVE
I AM A FACELESS BRAINLESS WHORE
I AM NOTHING
I couldn't have been happier.