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PART 11
Master Rob mentioning the game was close during the fourth quarter gave me the temporary notion that they would actually watch the game and give me a few minutes of a break. Silly me. But then again, when Master Rob is around, I don't need to think anyway.
"Anyone need anything? Because my fag's cunt is going to be busy, so if you need him, now's the time," Master Rob said.
"I could use another beer," Garrett said.
"I need to get rid of my last one," Eric said with a smirk.
Without being told, I crawled over to Eric, kneeled up and opened my mouth. The piss stream started almost immediately, but a few beers makes piss drinking almost too easy. Basically just warm water by this time, his piss sailed easily over my tongue and down my throat. Of course, to men, degrading a faggot with piss has nothing to do with the taste -- although I know damn well Master Rob does especially enjoy the look on my face when he makes me drink his morning piss. Some fags might crave that, but this one has taste buds. It's horrible, but I do what I need to do and Master Rob is always pleased.
As soon as Eric is done emptying his bladder into my guts, he pulls up his shorts and pats me on the head. "I've got to get myself a faggot, too," he says to Master Rob.
When Eric walks back to his seat on the sofa, I crawl into the kitchen to get Garrett's beer. "Thanks, fagboy," he says, twisting off the cap and handing it to me to throw away. Back to the kitchen I crawl. When I am back in faggot service position, Danny speaks up. "You know, I think I'd like another beer, too." I crawl back to the kitchen, get the beer and crawl back to him. Not one second after I'm back in faggot service position, it's Nick's turn. Did they plan this, or did each of them on his own think it would be fun to make me crawl back and forth a few times? If it was the latter, they're all obviously enjoying the slave aspect of my faggotry. I crawl back and get Nick another beer, then crawl back to him. As I'm handing it to him, he looks me in the eye and says, "Open." I open wide and get rewarded by some of Nick's saliva, drooled into my waiting mouth as if I was a baby bird waiting to be fed.
"Ooooh, I forgot about that," Eric says. "Come here, bitch." I shift over to Eric and kneel straight up with my mouth open wide. I take his wad -- not just saliva this time -- and swirl it around in my mouth, savoring it before I swallow. Eric leans down, gets right in my face and says, "Nice touch, faggot." "Thank you, Mr. Eric," I say.
Then I crawl back to Master Rob's side and get in faggot service position. Nothing should surprise me at this point, but I confess I was a little surprised by what came next.
"You know boys, my faggot hasn't really been able to watch any of the game," Master Rob said. "I think he should be at least able to watch the ending, and I think he deserves the best seat in the house." Master Rob stands up, drops his shorts to the floor, kicks them closer to me (I instinctively pick them up and sniff the crotch, drawing chuckles from the guests) and sits back down, taking off his shirt. The man is gorgeous, and I can feel my body start to tingle as the man I worship is now sitting naked in front of me -- and four other guys.
"You know where it is. Lube me up, pussyboy," Master Rob says. Where it is? It's all over my place. There's a bottle in the nightstand, another one in a drawer in the coffee table, another in the kitchen and another in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Master Rob never knows when the mood to rape his faggot might strike him, and he doesn't want to have to wait. But the one he's talking about this time is in the pocket on the side of the recliner, and I dutifully reach for it. Seconds later I am lubing up my awesome master's magnificent dick in front of four other guys, and suddenly the game becomes unimportant. They are all staring at me.
"That's enough, cunt," Master Rob says. "You always want to put on too much."
"Do you blame him, Rob?" responded Nick, drawing chuckles.
"Seriously, Rob, letting him lube you up seems like a small concession," Garrett said. Of course, Garrett has been the most cautious one of the group the entire time.
"Dude, do I tell you how to treat your dog?" Master Rob said to Nick. "Then don't tell me how to use my faggot."
That comparison makes me hot. It always does. When I tried to "train" straight guys to get them to be a little more aggressive with me, I used the hunting dog analogy. You would never do anything to hurt a good hunting dog, and he's valuable to you, but in the end he's a dog and exists to do what you want. The fact that most of them were a bit shy about shifting from getting blow jobs to faggot ownership is why I am so lucky to have found Master Rob.
"OK, faggot, let's get that pussy up here and take a seat and watch the end of the game," Master Rob said to me,
If you ever tried to ride dick in a recliner, you know that it's not easy getting on and off but not hard to actually ride. I awkwardly get in position and lower my faghole onto Master Rob's somewhat-lubed dick. As usual, it hurts just a bit on the way in but settles in nicely, and soon he's all the way inside, or I am all the way down, depending on your perspective.
"That's it faggot. Just sit there and watch the game. Don't move, I'm not interested in getting off yet, but I didn't have to waste time after the game opening you up for the festivities."
So four other guys watch me watch the game while impaled on their friend's dick in my apartment. Same as hundreds of other Super Bowl parties all over America, right?
The really interesting part, and what his friend's can't see from their angle, is that Master Rob's left hand, the one on the far side of the guests, is gently rubbing a small area on my back and side. Is it affectionate? A place to put his hand? Or is he lulling me into a peaceful state before all hell breaks loose? Once again, I remind myself that I'm not here to think, and just by sitting on Master Rob's beautiful equipment I am fulfilling my obligation to serve him.
Have you ever had a dick all the way inside you and felt this strange sense of calm, almost like a spiritual moment? Usually with Master Rob he's too busy showing off his strength and dominance when he fucks me (he never says he's fucking me, it's always "rape," not because I'm unwilling but because it doesn't matter if I'm in the mood, want to do anything or don't feel up to it. I'm not sure how he would react if I actually resisted him, but I can't imagine doing that anyway) for that feeling but now, sitting quietly with his manhood completely inside me, that feeling comes over me. Pure bliss. And the fact that four other hot guys, gay and straight, are there to witness it makes it even better.
Master Rob owns me. I am his faggot. And everyone in the room knows it. What could be better?
END OF PART 11