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 © 2012
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The House Fag, Chapter 18
The house fag was called out of its suite by Master Thomas one morning as He prepared Himself for another shift at the station house. "Throw on some clothes, fag." I crawled back to the cell and removed my mask to put on my one change of clothes, still filthy from over a year ago, back at that movie theater. I wondered what was in store for the house fag this time while putting the mask back over my head. "Follow me out to my 'stang in the garage." He popped open the trunk and popped His fag inside.
He drove awhile and parked His car, releasing open the trunk. I was completely disoriented and more than a little scared. Master Thomas dragged His fag inside a building and ordered it to strip, keeping the hood on. He took the clothes away, presumably back to His car, and returned a moment later.
"Now turn around, fag. You're going to greet My co-workers by backing in, displaying that beautiful fagcunt for them. Arch your fucking back and keep those knees spread wide apart . . . . Yes, that's it, fag. Beg for them to fuck you without saying a goddamn word. Now back into the room."
This was a quiet but profound humiliation. To finally meet these Men whom I'd worshipped in thought for months, but as nothing but a hole for fucking. To be seen as nothing but a device to use to get off. Of course, my stupid fag-dick was dripping and semi-hard inside its constant cage. I could feel my hole opening up, exposing itself, aching to grab onto these Men.
"Holy fuck." There was some some movement at the end of the hall as the Firemen apparently got up to see what was happening while I slowly crawled backwards into the room to display myself in the most wanton, humiliating way possible, silently pleading with these strangers to fuck me senseless. Or, perhaps, to fuck some sense into me.
Once we entered the room, Master Thomas spoke to me again. "Listen carefully, fag. After I finish my shift here tomorrow morning, Zach and I are going on vacation for awhile. The guys here at the firehouse have volunteered to fag-sit for us while we're away. I want there to be no misunderstandings: these guys call ALL the shots. Understood, fag?"
"Yes, Sir, Master Thomas, Sir. They will all be obeyed, Sir. Thank You, Sir, for finding such generous Men to look after Your fag, Sir."
"Hey, fag, get over here." An unfamiliar voice. I followed it into the next room. "I need to take a leak and really just don't wanna bother getting up." I found His fragrant dick in front of my face and embraced its head with my cocksucker lips. He emptied His bladder into my stupid faggot mouth. I gulped down His pissload as he continued filling up my gob.
"Yeah, Tom, it's going to be a lot of fun having a degenerate whore here while you're gone. I'm sure the other shifts will enjoy it as well." Shit. It hadn't even occurred to me. Multiple shifts of horny Firemen to please and service day after day. I was the luckiest faggot on earth. I moaned appreciatively. "Yeah, fag," He continued as He pulled out His cock and shook it against my chest, splattering dregs of Fireman Piss on me, "we're going to get along just fine." He slapped the fag across the face for no reason other than He wanted to.
"Thank You for Your attention, Sir."
"Shit, Tom, you think you trained this bitch?" Now the bitch got punched hard in the nuts. While it doubled over in pain, it was corrected by this unknown Fireman. "A true fagbitch, whenever shown attention by a man, not only thanks him, but politely asks him for more. Got it, cuntface?"
Jesus, yes. Holy shit, yes. "Yes, Sir, thank You so much for showing a stupid fag some attention. Please, Sir, if You don't mind, could You give it some more?"
Another slap across the face. A pause, and then another punch in the nuts. "Over and over again, fagbitch. Until I get bored with bitchslapping some smarts into your stupid head."
"Please, Sir, this faggot is so grateful for any attention You wish to show. Would it be too much trouble to show it some more attention, Sir?"
Another slap across the face, burning my cheeks. "Thank You so much, Sir. Please, Sir, could You make sure Your lesson has been learned, Sir?"
"One more, fag-hole." Another burning, hate-infused slap across my worthless face. "Now I'm done. Just kiss My fucking toes in gratitude and shut up." His wish was granted feverishly. I worshipped this unseen, unknowable Fireman's dirty smelly toes, dragging my worthless tongue between them to suck up any grime, listening to the Men chuckle above me. Was I doing this out of fear or out of perverted lust? Honest answer: they were one and the same. My fear inflamed my sick desires, and my desires, validating what kind of worthless whore I was, inflamed My fear that these Men would rip apart such an inferior fagbitch. I knew I was nothing in comparison to Them. A worthless fuckup, the kind of kid they beat up back in grade school.
On top of all this, after over a year of nearly complete isolation, I was now about to be in the constant company of my Superiors. I felt this heavy pull inside me to show my gratitude to Them for merely being allowed in Their presence. I hadn't realized just how lonely I had been until now. I just wanted to curl up against one of these Gods and cry in happiness that I could have somebody to be with. I knew better than to think I could talk to one of Them or have anything in common with one of Them. It wasn't about companionship, merely company. Merely being allowed in the same room, even if only as an ignorant fuckhole.
Another unknown, unknowable voice from a Superior. "Fag, get over here and prove you're worth the trouble we're taking in watching over you."
I quickly crawled, bumping into unseen furniture, causing the Men of the firehouse to crack up. "Yes, Sir, how do I prove myself worthy of Your trouble, Sir?"
"Climb on top of that coffee table you just introduced yourself to," He said, making the others chuckle. "That's it, now on your knees. Arms straight down, fists on the table like a nice fag-dog. Hang your tongue out and wait for one of us to wipe his ass with your buttwashing tongue, or to drain his piss down your thirsty faggot throat. Stay there until told otherwise, fag." With that, the Men went about Their day. Once in a while, one might stop by to put the fag to use to drink his delicious piss or tongue his muscular ass. One fingered its fuckhole for awhile, making its hole dance and grab His finger in hunger. He shoved His finger down its throat to "suck away that disgusting fagslime." As it moaned in gratitude while sucking His finger like a cock, He snickered at its depravity and hawked up some gunk to spit on its chin before joining the other Firemen in the first room.
Remaining in this position for hours was agony. Muscles and joints were getting sore and cramped. But I was more agonized at being unable to see any of these fine-looking Men. I couldn't see a damn thing in the hood. I had no idea what these Men looked like, Who was Who, or anything else. But I was merely a fag to use; there was no need for me to know these things.
Some time later, another Fireman spoke up. "Lie down on the table on your stomach, fag. Now put those cocksucker knees on the floor where they belong, arms over the sides of the coffee table, and be ready for mounting."
"Yes, Sir. Anything You wish, Sir. Thank You, Sir. I'm so fucking ready to be mounted, Sir. Please mount the fag, Sir." He guffawed his disbelief that there existed such a submissive fuckup fagwhore, and walked away, leaving it as He instructed. The hunger was all-encompassing: this insatiable craving to be used and validated in any way by such awesome Men. The emptiness inside was terrifying.
Hours later. "Open up, fag. I gotta piss."
"Mmmmmm... Oh, God, thank You so much for Your piss, Sir. It's so fucking delicious, Sir."
Unknown hours later, the fag was bitchslapped hard across the face. "Thank You, Sir, for such wonderful attention. It means so much to a fag like me. Please, Sir, would You be kind enough to do it again, Sir, Please?"
This depravity, this non-stop sucking-up to Superiors, continued endlessly. I was on pins and needles, on an incredible high of fear and twisted perversion. There was no end to my worship of these incredible Men, my joy in being acknowledged in any way by these Gods.
"Roll over, fag, and put your stupid head against the corner of the coffee table, facing up. There. That's a good little asswipe." A Fireman's ripe asshole was atop my ugly face. I used my fagbitch tongue to worshipfully massage the crack of His ass and clean inside His delicious hole.
"Back in the mounting position, fag. Some of us want to try out those fag-holes."
"YES, SIR. Thank You so much for putting these worthless holes to use, SIR. Mmmm. . . ."
Two cocks, one at each end. A ripe, cut, thick cock was sliding down the fag's throat while another cock, a giant, massive slab of meat was pushing deep inside my guts.
"Thank You, Master Thomas, Sir, for fucking Your fag, SIR," I mouthed around the prick in my throat, sounding like some complete idiot. That earned some laughter and some applause.
"Impressive, Tom. Your fag knows your cock just by feeling it up its cunt. Nice."
Master Thomas didn't say a fucking word. All He did was fuck. Hard. Fast. Wanting nothing more than to empty His beautiful, massive balls up my faggot ass.
"There. You. Go. Fag." He caught his breath. "All lubed up for My friends. See you when we get back, fag. Have fun!" He left and the Men of the firehouse cheered.
"He ended His shift early, fag. We got a few hours left before the next shift comes in for their day of work. Be sure to show them just as much respect as you’ve shown us."
"Yes, Sir," I mouthed around His dick. I then concentrated on tightening and loosening my fag throat around His meat, jacking Him off with my throat.
"Fuck, yeah, bitch. Keep it going." He shot within a few minutes. I was once again abandoned by the Firemen, They having more important things to deal with.
It was impossible to get any sense of time. After a while, I heard new voices, and then some goodbyes. I figured it was the new day's shift change. I was commanded on my back, holes exposed for anyone's use. My faggot heart throbbed just being allowed in the general presence of these Men. I wanted so fucking desperately to do anything to please them, anything to hear their voices, to be acknowledged by Them in any way, even as just a hole to fuck. I'd never felt anything like this before.
"So here's the fagfuck we've been hearing so much about. I guess somebody's gotta try it out." Somebody unzipped His fly and grabbed my hips, pushing His cock into me all the way in one thrust. I moaned appreciatively and He fucked me full and hard for a good long time before dumping His load inside me.
"Thank You, Sir, so much, for fucking a stupid fag, Sir." That earned me a hard bitchslap across my ugly face. "Thank You, Sir, for showing so much attention to a worthless cocksucker, Sir. Would it be too much trouble to do it again, Sir?" The answer was another whack across the face. "Oh, Yes, Sir, thank You so much, Sir. Please, Sir, is it possible to get another, Sir?" Whacked yet again. "Oh, Sir, that is so kind of You, Sir. Sir, would You mind slapping this perverted fag again, Sir?"
It went on and on for countless burning slaps across my dumb faggot face. I was begging through tears before He finally just pushed me onto the floor. "Fuckin' insatiable fagwhore," He muttered as He tromped all over the inferior trash that had just been nourished by His abuse.
Hours later, another Fireman stood in front of the stupid fag. It heard the unmistakable sound of piss hitting the floor in front of it. "Suck up my urine from the floor, bitch. Lick up every fucking drop." I don't think He expected such a powerful response; I practically dove on to the floor, mouth open, to slurp up His deliciously bitter piss.
Later still, another anonymous voice. "Hey, didn't I hear that fags love cleaning boots? I mean, like, really LOVE it?"
"Beats the shit out of Me, Aaron. But we might as well have it doing something for all the trouble we have go through to feed it." That brought forth a couple of chuckles, and it did comfort me to realize that these guys knew I hadn't been fed since I got there.
I suddenly got twelve pairs of firemen boots tossed at me. "Clean these, faggot. And don't take off the hood. Just use your faggot tongue to find and suck off any shit that's on them. If your little faggot mouth gets dry, the bathroom's over to your left. Just drink from the john like a good little fag. When you finish those boots, and have them lined them up pair by pair, let us know. If we're satisfied, we'll give you another set of boots. But if there's any dirt on any boot, you're going to be one extremely sorry faggot. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir. Thank You, Sir, for Your instruction, Sir. It feels so good to be of use to You generous Men, Sir."
"Shut up, fag. Nobody wants to hear your moronic wailing. Just get to fucking work. Earn your room and board, shithead."