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Related article: Date: Thu, 9 Dec 2010 07:18:19 -0800 (PST)
From: Vincent Vincent
Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 25First, the disclaimers. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, Copyright 2010. The
narrative that follows did not happen to me or to anyone else I know. The
characters in the story, like myself, are all of legal age. Don't contact
Me to meet these slaves. DO contact Me if you want to become one of these
slaves. Also contact me with any praise, criticism, or suggestions. All
feedback is good.Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 25The fagdad would never have guessed that waiting was the hardest part.Master and the fagboy were at the mechanic's. Once they left the table,
the fagdad had spent the remainder of breakfast worshiping the Sirs'
assholes while They ate the rest of Their quiche. They were pretty quiet,
not out of any sense of secrecy; it just seemed like they didn't have much
to say. And certainly nothing to say to an ass-worshiping fagslave.Once They left, it cleaned up the kitchen and ate its breakfast of piss and
cereal. It was learning to love the flavor of their rank morning piss.
While eating, it fantasized about using all three Men's piss as an
ingredient in meals made specifically for the fagslaves. Cooking rice in
piss, for instance. The thought made its fagdick start to throb against
its new cage.Once the holes in their fagdicks and properly healed, Master purchased more
effective devices to prevent hard-ons and ensure chastity for His faggots.
It was a complicated device to describe, but essentially the ring in the
head of its fagdick was attached to a maxwells free forum lolita cockring at the base of its crotch.
This meant that for both fagslaves, their fagdicks were stuck wrapping down
between and separating their nuts. Any attempt at an erection became
incredibly painful, much moreso than the pinpricks by stretching their
piercing holes against stationary metal. It also caused any swelling of
their dickheads to push against the hard metal edges caressing against
them. Very brutal, very cruel, very effective.After licking its dog bowl clean, the fagdad moved today's laundry into the
dryer and crawled into the bathroom to clean out its hole. Once cleaned
out, it made the beds of the Men of the house and by then the dryer
announced that the Men's clothes were ready to be folded and put away.It took care of that. It then dusted and cleaned around the house,
stopping whenever either of the Sirs called it for urinal duty, to pick up
something They dropped, or for any other purpose They might have for it.But now Their home was clean and there were no more chores for it to do.
So it knelt in a corner just outside the Sirs' room and waited to be of
use.And that was the hardest part of being a slave in this wonderful home.
Sitting and waiting to be of use. To have no immediate purpose, no
immediate reason to be alive. To be empty and hungry, aching to be able to
serve some function for its Superiors. Boring? Sure, that too, but more
than that was this unendurable void inside it. Unendurable, but the
fagslaves endured it because there was no other option.The fagdad would sometimes cry in this corner if too much time went by. It
was doing so now, adding to its misery the shame of not being able to
handle the simple curse of idle time. If it were a Man, it could watch TV
or read a book. Fagslaves, however, had no need for such things, unless it
was to better themselves for their Owners. To read, for example, a
cookbook. Or something on how to iron Their clothing. Or how to better
service Their cocks. No such book was currently offered. So it knelt,
idle, empty, unfulfilled, with quiet tears running down its pathetic euro lolita model galleries face.Quiet. That was something else that was unexpected.The faggots were never told they couldn't speak. But somehow they both
independently understood that the less said, the better. That a fagslave
is seen and not heard. That it was disrespectful to call attention to
itself. That nobody fucking cared what a fagslave thought or had to euro lolita model galleries say.
They could tell because the Men of the house just acted as if the fagslaves
weren't even there, or only there as servants. It's like when a busboy
comes to your dinner table to refill your water glasses while you were in
the middle of conversation. You continue and not acknowledge him. Except
it was like that every hour of every day. Only spoken to when given an
order or to explain how that order had been fucked up.The fagdad had even begun to notice a change in how they were spoken to.
Sure, the faggots were often referred to by their labels: the fagboy, the
fagdad, or collectively as the fagslaves. But increasingly, they weren't
referenced at all. "I want a blowjob." "I want to wear my new blue
t-shirt." The Men simply expressed Their desires and it was assumed that
one of the fagslaves would take care of it. maxwells free forum lolita
The Men were equally quiet in
their praise. It was getting to the point that the fagdad was craving even
the slightest smile or sign of pleasure with its service more than it
desired orgasm. And the Men knew it. The smallest indication of Their
pleasure, a subtle touch, smile, or wink, would be enough to make the
fagdad tremble inside.This was by no means a complaint. In fact, the fagdad enjoyed the
ever-widening separation between itself and its Superiors. This provided a
place where it belonged. A place where no Man would ever be.The fagdad's ears lit upon hearing Sir Mitchell's voice. "I'm going to take
a shower." The fagdad quickly cantered into lolitas preteens underground pictures
Their bathroom and turned on
the water, getting it nice and warm. "Stay in there and lather me up."
The fagdad's dick pulsed softly; this was a welcome treat.Sir Mitchell, still naked from breakfast, walked into the shower while the
fagdad knelt in the corner. Once He was under the water spray, it stood up
to massage the shampoo into His hair and then to softly scrub soap over
every inch of His flesh, reverently cleaning His skin. It acted out of
worship as it lathered up Sir Mitchell's arms and armpits and His muscular
chest and torso. It knelt to wash His strong legs, His previously
tongue-cleaned ass, and His magnificent crotch; its mouth watered at the
thought of tongue-washing His beautiful balls and foreskin, but it knew
better than to even ask. It gently but thoroughly lavished His feet with
tender worship using the washcloth to gently scrub His ankles, soles and
between His toes. It then rose to rinse His hair clean and apply
conditioner, then slid back down His body to be sure all the body soap was
rinsed off. It finally rinsed out the conditioner and turned off the
water.Sir Mitchell remained in the shower as it reached out for a towel and dried
Him off in complete servitude. It took its time, making sure His flesh was
completely dry, its mouth aching with hunger to taste His flesh. Anything
He might want worshiped more intimately.Once He was satisfied with the dry-off, He walked out without acknowledging
the fagdad or the service. The fagdad quietly carried the dirty towel
through the closet and into the hamper, its cell before returning to the
corner, drip-drying, awaiting any desire either of the Sirs might have.
Waiting. Always waiting. It bided its time by staring at the words
forever imprinted on its arms. Servitude. Obedience. The words that
defined its life.Eventually Master and the fagboy returned. "I want My feet worshiped,"
Master simply declared as He entered nude lolita preteen pics
His home. As soon as He sat at His
desk, both faggots slid under the desk to unclothe His feet using only
their mouths. They stripped off His socks and began sniffing, sucking, and
licking the grime out between His toes as they had been taught. Silent,
respectful worship of the Man who owned them. They remained there for
hours in constant adoration of their Master. Were they bored? The fagdad
would say that the work was boring and tedious, but there was nowhere it
would rather be than in service to Master.The clock chimed six and the fagdad slid out from under Master's feet and
looked at His feet quietly. Master looked down at it and agreed. "Start
dinner." The fagboy crawled out maxwells free forum lolita and the two of them left into the kitchen
to prepare a meal for the Men. Sweet and sour meatballs. White rice.
Green tea.The two faggots allowed themselves the opportunity to quietly talk to each
other while preparing meals. Not only did it offer them a daily chance to
bond, but it added to the structure of the day. Besides, they'd have to
talk anyway to coordinate preparations for the meal. The fagboy told it
about servicing Men at the garage. The fagdad wished it could have been
there as well.The fagboy also spoke of this compound it kept hearing about. They agreed
that it sounded fascinating, but there was no desire to be there.
Everything they needed was right here.There was no dinner bell. The faggots simply had the responsibility to
have the food ready at the time they were instructed. At eight o'clock,
the Men's plates were served as They walked into the room. The next hour
or so was spent in a constant vigil, ensuring that plates and cups were
kept full and that no Man had to reach beyond His plate for anything. The
Men discussed Their plans for the evening. Sir Mitchell and a biker buddy
were going out to a bar. He asked if either Sir Duncan or Master had any
plans for the faggots. They both said no. As each Man left, He pissed
into the dogbowl and the faggots scraped His plate into the marinade.Once the last Man young loli ilegal pregnant
finished and His plate was scraped, the faggots split the
clean-up duties. The fagdad started cleaning up the kitchen while the
fagboy went to the bedrooms and turned down the corners of each of the
Men's beds. It also picked up any clothes They left lying around and
tossed them into the hamper. The fagboy returned to the kitchen as the
fagdad was loading the dishwasher. Once it was loaded and started, they
ate their marinated leftovers before crawling to the bathroom to once again
clean each other out for use if one of the Men should so choose. Sir
Mitchell called into the room. "Both faggots should relatos orgias gothic lolitas be done and dressed in
10 minutes. Wear what whores wear."The fagdad got a little nervous. Sir Mitchell and a biker buddy. A bar.
A fagboy in tight leather shorts and a fagdad in stilettos, nylons, and an
apron. The permutations sounded interesting, but also scary.
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# by iterociat | 2012-06-22 03:49