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
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The House Fag, Chapter 12
Over time, the isolation was overwhelming. As before, days, perhaps weeks would go by without being called out of my cell for service. I was only allowed out when They were either asleep or away, and only to clean up after Them. As much as I looked forward to the chance to clean up for Them (yes, it's true; it was an opportunity to stretch and be out of my cell), I still had no contact with anyone. Nobody was around to share my stupid fag thoughts (as if anyone would care what a fag was thinking). Nobody was around to acknowledge me as anything but a dumbfuck insignificant speck of fagmeat. And so, over time, that's all I became. A parasite of Men with no purpose or use except as a pleasurer of Their cocks, a cleaner of Their home, and a puppet for Their entertainment.
One afternoon, Lord Zachary called me from my tight, cramped cell. "Fag, get out here."
"Yes, Lord Zachary? Thank You so much, Lord Zachary, Sir, for having a use for Your stupid fag today. Please, what can Your worthless homely fag do to make You happy, Lord Zachary, Sir?"
"Dad says that if I want to keep a pet fag around, I need to take some of the responsibility for it. So it's My job to wash your ugly hide every few weeks. I called My friends over, fag, `cuz they got such a kick out of you last time."
Oh, christ. This wasn’t going to go well. "Yes, Sir, Lord Zachary, Sir."
“Get out in the yard by the hose. On all fours like a good little pet fag."
"Yes, Sir, Lord Zachary, Sir." Out I crawled to the backyard and the hose. Thankfully Their yard was landscaped with high bushes all the way around. I stood there on all 4s and waited for Lord Zachary and His friends.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited some more. This was during the heat of summer. I was hot, wet, and miserable. The sun was blistering my back and ass. Sweat covered my body and was dripping down my arms. My mouth was getting dry. And yet I waited still.
Finally the herd of Them all came out. Lord Zachary was in front, big smirk on His handsome face. "I bet our fag is thirsty, huh?"
I croaked out my reply. "Yes, Sir, Lord Zachary. Please, Lord Zachary, could Your fag have something to drink?"
Lord Zachary turned to His friends. "Any of you guys wanna earn five dollars? Just feed the fag your piss." One of His friends shot to the front. "I'll do it, Zach.”
"Really, Alan? Cool." "Yeah, mom made us eat some asparagus last night. Makes my piss stink godawful. I bet the fag will love it."
"Let's find out. Fag, go scurry into your room, get five bucks, and give it here to My friend Alan. Beg him for his tasty pee."
I obeyed. With the bills in my hand, I looked up at Alan, lips parched and tongue thick with thirst. "Please, Sir, please allow me to swallow Your delicious piss, please?"
Alan apparently learned his lessons well. "Well, fag, since you begged so nice...." He sighed as his body relaxed and his piss-stream hit my throat. As it soured my faggot mouth, it was still a relief to get hydrated. I moaned my appreciation, making him laugh. "What a fucking perv!"
One of Lord Zachary's friends spoke up as Alan's heavy, life-saving flow subsided. "So, we have to scrub down your fag? I don't want to fuckin' touch it!"
“No, we just have to power-spray it. Why waste soap on a stupid fag?" Lord Zachary held the hose and adjusted the nozzle. "Gotta get it to its strongest setting though, and then," He said, aiming and releasing the trigger, “let the water do its stuff."
I yelped. "Ow! Thank You, Lord Zachary. My balls are so sore already, Lord Zachary, and your high-force spray makes them hurt so much. Th. . ."
"Does it look like anybody here cares if you hurt, fag?"
"No, Sir, of course not, Lord Zachary."
"Then keep fucking quiet, fag!"
I bit my lip as the pounding spray racked my cock and balls, my ass, and then the rest of my body. I was not allowed soap, washcloth, or any other amenity. Just the humiliation of being washed like livestock in front of a bunch of cruel fifteen-year-old boys. This was, somehow, even worse than the piss shower of before. That at least felt sexual; now, I was not there for their amusement. I was merely an animal, a chore to be taken care of.
"So what's that thing around its prick, Zach?"
"That's to keep it from getting a hard-on, Cody. It hasn't cum in over eight months now."
"Really? Wow, I don't think I could last eight hours!"
Apparently Lord Zachary was done hosing me down. "OK, guys, lemme take the fag downstairs in the basement to drip dry awhile. Be right back."
I followed Him inside and down the stairs into the basement. "I've been working real hard, fag, on some entertainment down here." I didn't think He meant entertainment for me.
I'd never been in the basement before. It was unfinished, a raw, dirty room. Would have made a great slave quarters, except apparently it was far too spacious for a fag like me. Lord Zachary led me to a corner of the room. There was my companion, “The Pony", mounted on a fuck machine, pointing straight up at the ceiling. Above it was a thick metal bar, cuffs at each end, held up by a heavy chain to a hook from the ceiling. On the floor at the side, up on end, was a footstool.
"Beautiful, ain’t it, fag?"
"I don't understand, Lord Zachary.”
"Don't worry, fag, you will." He led me up to the bar. "Stand between the stools and hold your arms up, fag. There, just like that." He locked my wrists into the thickly lined cuffs. He then slid the head of the Pony up my hole. He looked at me and smiled His inherently evil grin, sending shivers up my spine. He used two lengths of rope, wrapping each one a few times around each of my nuts, tying it off into a knot with about two feet of rope hanging from each of my tender testes. Lord Zachary then pulled my left leg up and tied my big toe to my left nut.
"Oh, fuck, Lord Zachary."
"What's the matter, fag?”
"Um, nothing, Lord Zachary, Sir. Thank You, Lord Zachary, for all this attention, Sir."
He repeated the same ordeal with my right big toe and nut. I was now forced to pull my calves up close to my body or else force my balls to bear their weight. All while hanging from my wrists. I was going to go fucking insane. But he wasn't done yet.
"This will make it fun for everyone, fag." He unlocked my cock-cage, allowing my dick the freedom to get fully hard. Which it would have, I'm sure, if I wasn't already scared to death from the agony I was about to endure.
And then the bastard, Lord Zachary, turned on the fuck machine, forcing the Pony up and down my faggot fuckhole. He adjusted the machine so it thrust deeper and deeper with each stroke. He stood back when it was as far out it it would go, and there was still at least seven inches inside me. The pounding was pulverizing my inner sphincter. I tried pulling myself up with my arms. That made the fuck bearable.
I wondered how long the muscles in my arms and legs could hold me in this state of relative comfort. I guessed it wouldn't be nearly long enough.
Lord Zachary started climbing up the stairs. "I'll leave you to dry off, fag. I'll be back with my My buddies in a bit. Have fun!"