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 does not exist. Wanna change that? Or just wanna share comments/praise/criticism? Fine: Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com
Copyright Copyright 2011
Whittling a Fucktube, Chapter 2
Hmm? Oh, you want me to talk more about My fucktube? Caught your interest last time, huh? Sure. Lemme call it over to massage your prick with its tongue while I'm talking. Hey, dickwad, get to work on My buddy's cock.
OK, where was I again? Oh yeah, the first visit.
So, I didn't tell the fuckface how any of this was going to pan out. I just let the bitch think it was comin' over to service Me. Which it was, of course. But I wasn't so much evaluating the blowjob. Good thing I didn't, `cuz this asswipe needed serious training. No, man, I was looking for trainability. I was hunting down a faggot that knew its place in the world, knew the weakness of its own ego, and knew (even if it didn't realize it knew) how willing it was to accommodate pleasuring its betters, even if - or especially if - it was an inconvenience or a difficulty.
Heh. I know that look, pal. I lost you on that last one, didn't I? OK. A suckhole like this has an instinctive need to please. To provide pleasure. It gets its validation from the smile on My face or the moan in My throat. And sometimes these fagbitches don't even realize they have this need. They're too stupid to look inside themselves and see what really makes them tick. They go through life doing what society tells them to do, thinking they want what society tells them they want, and they're fuckin' miserable because they're just not wired like the rest of us. Yeah, I hear it moanin' on your cock -- that was just the kinda bitch I had in front of me.
Anyway, fagwhores like that, what they really need is some kinda sense of accomplishment. Not so much by finishing some dumbfuck project at work. No, they need something much more personal. They need to feel like they've done something for a guy. That they've given him some great personal pleasure. Gives them a sense of purpose, some kind of validation. And if they've had to work hard or suffer for that to happen, all the better. That validation's all the stronger. Isn't that right, dickbreath? Yeah, buddy, so you get Me now? Good.
So anyway, I had this faghole walk in the door, totally clueless to all this shit inside its head. All it knew was that it wanted to blow Me and swallow My nut. I told it over the phone that the door would be unlocked and to walk right in. The bitch walks in, all smiling and buddy-like and starts to open its fuckin' mouth to make some small talk, you know? Something about the traffic, or the weather, some stupid shit. I interrupt it after the first couple of words. "You're not here to talk, bud. Get over here and get to work."
It was like a light switch clicked on in its head. I guess nobody ever spoke to it like that before. The fuckwad fell to its knees -- no, seriously -- and fuckin' crawled to My prick. That told Me all I needed to know; I fuckin' had a keeper.
Now, I'd told it over the phone that I don't want any quickies. I expect My prick to be fucking worshipped. For hours if I feel like it. So the faggot starts licking and caressing My meat with its lips and tongue, moaning like a whore . . . yes, just like it is on your pole right now . . . and gets lost in the delirium of dick. Fuckin' fine with Me. I sit back and enjoy the ride.
Now, like I said, it wasn't a stellar suckjob. The fagface had lots to learn in terms of breathing, gagging, shit like that. But it was definitely in the right space. I'd tanked up before the phone call, so while its lips surrounded My crown, I dribbled some piss in its gob. The faggot moaned like it had just touched God. No, man, its just agreeing with me now; that moan wasn't even in the same league. So I slowly emptied myself into its grateful mouth as it fucking shivered from the taste of My rank urine.
The shithead wasn't yet piss-trained, so it had to swallow in gulps instead of just opening its throat so I could piss right into its guts. But it was a start. So I kinda patted it on the head, tossled its hair a little, and praised it. "What a good little cuntboy." The bitch almost shot its load. What's that, bitch? That's not what happened? Oh, it did shoot? In its pants? Huh. Whad'ya know. I guess nobody ever treated it like that before.
So anyway, I just sit back and let the faggot do what it could to make Me feel good. It wasn't a bad job, just not as well-trained as it is now. I decided to be nice and let it feast on My attention. Didn't ignore it or anything. Just responded with quiet moans and gasps when it did something right. It learned pretty quickly what worked and what didn't. That impressed Me.
So I finally decided to let it eat My seed. I tossed a load down its throat. Afterwards, while the bitch is still floating in My pleasure, I pull it down with an evaluation. "Not bad, faggot, but not all that great. Ever wanna come back, suckwhore?" It started to talk but a quick bitchslap put a stop to that. "Again, faggot, you're not here to talk." It shut up and nodded like a nice obedient bitch. "OK then, here's the first rule: I call you; you NEVER call Me. You got caller ID, faggot?" Another nod. "Good. Then you'll know when I'm calling. Pick up the phone and don't say a fucking word. I'll give My instructions and hang up. Your job is to comply. Any problem with that?" An obedient shake of the head. "Excellent, fagboy. We're going to get along just fine. Now get the fuck out of My house." The faggot turned around and fucking crawled back where it came from. Out of curiosity, I got up to look
out the front window. It crawled across the lawn to its car at the curb and climbed in. I was pleased. Fuckin' A.
Now came the fun part. The part where I really got to whittle into its soul. I didn't call it. I could tell I'd eaten into its brain real nice during its little visit. So I knew it would be hungry for My call. I tried other suckbitches in the meantime ... and there were some nice ones out there, but none with the potential I saw here. Some pretty-boy fuckfaces, some big tough guys trying to hide their inner bitchboys, some married guys trying to pretend they weren't faggots. I was curious about the suckbitch, but I knew I had to let My absence eat into it like an acid. Ten days later, I decide it's time to call. The phone is picked up on the 2nd ring. Not a word. Nothing but broken breathing, like it was hanging on for its life, desperate for anything I might have to say. I chuckled into the mouthpiece, ordered "Suck My Cock", and hung up.
Not five minutes later, the bitch crawls in My front door. I'm reading a book, a war novel. I don't even look up. The faggot crawls over to My recliner and starts licking the crotch of My running shorts. I don't say a fucking word. It starts to lift up the hem of My shorts to pull out My cock. I bitchslap its forehead, still reading. "No fucking hands, asswipe. Never." The cuntface pulls itself up higher into the recliner so it can use its tongue and teeth to pull up the hem of My shorts, only to find My sweaty jockstrap pouch still keeping its hungry mouth from My meat. I listen to it whimper as it sucks on My nut through the pouch of the jockstrap.
I pulse My cock. It feels that and gets that validation it so fuckin' craves. It slides its tongue under the pouch and starts awkwardly licking My dickstalk. I softly chuckle and let it get to work while I read. After a while, it finally gets enough tongue under the cloth to pull out My prick and suck on it for real. I sigh softly and let it get to work. A couple of chapters later, I feed the bitch My load. You'd think it was manna from the moaning and sobbing I heard. Yeah, sobbing. I know. After I fed it, it crawled off My recliner and back out the door.
What's that, buddy? Need to get going? Hey, no, I understand. Huh? Nah, I'm gonna put the faggot to use on My meat now, so not unless you can unload your prick in the next minute. Oh, well if you're that close, go right ahead. No problem.
OK, pal. `Til next time.