A Fag Slave to my Uncle Pt. 01

I laid on the front step, drenched in urine, as I waited for the red car to pull into the driveway ahead of me. I had no clothes on, except for a thin pink skirt that couldn't have been longer than two inches, but still covered my pathetically tiny penis. Tucked into the skirt's elastic band were three $100 bills. I had just finished with my third client for the day, and I was waiting for my Master to pick me up so I could go to my fourth session.

This third client had been particularly sadistic. I suppose I should start at the beginning. My Master had told me that since the client was only a two mile walk from my house he wouldn't waste the gas money, and that I should go on foot. So I had set off thirty minutes early, wearing nothing but the metal collar around my neck, embossed with the word "fag", two-inch stilettos, my two-inch skirt, my huge septum piercing (which was designed to be attachable to a leash), the belly button piercing with an attached inch-wide metal plaque reading "Fairy", and tiny hearts attached to each of the barbells running through my nipples, the right one reading "cum", and the left reading "slut".

As if it wasn't hard enough to walk in stilettos, my Master had secured cuffs in place on each of my ankles, and the chain running between them was no more than a foot. I also was wearing handcuffs that were attached by a foot-long chain to my collar. In another world, my neighbors would all be intensely disgusted to see not only a gay boy but a gay brown boy walking down the street, even more so dressed in this get-up. I lived in a mainly 65+ community, with mainly white neighbors.

The only reason that they didn't pay any mind was because most of them were my clients. Most of the men were closeted and in denial, and loved fucking young boys, and their wives turned as much of a blind eye as they could, even if just to 'keep their man happy'.

The craziest thing was that this neighborhood was unusually large, housing almost 6,000 residents over three different 'sectors' of the neighborhood. Everyone who lived here knew these sectors. The neighborhood was basically the shape of a giant circle, more or less, and the three sectors were the outermost ring, the middle ring, and the innermost ring.

The innermost (where I lived with my Master) was home to about 3,000 residents; almost all of them, save for me and my Master, white and old. Most of them were married couples except a few widows.

The middle ring housed about 1,000 people, and was, for the most part, housing for families with middle-aged parents (late 30s to early 60s) and their kids. These were the typical white families you picture when you think of America, or watch American movies.

More often than not (as I knew from the maybe 30 times a month I would go to a session in this sector) the entire family would be well aware of the typical manner the father carried himself around with; toxically masculine and proud of it, and they would act (shockingly so) as if it was normal for a father to be spending money to fuck a barely legal fag and then returning to a family dinner (as I hobbled out of the house, his cum leaking out of my ass), playing board games with the kids, making love to his wife, going to bed, and then waking up to repeat it.

The outer ring was home to the barely over 18 college students that attended the university nearby. Coincidentally, that was the university I was supposed to attend according to my Master, so I could whore myself out to college kids to rake in more money, but he decided that I would be more profitable if I were to stay at home, and he would be able to maintain control of me more easily.

A car horn's stringy BEEP brought me out of my day dream, as I looked up and saw my Master sitting in the car that had pulled up in the driveway. My Master was looking at me with fiery eyes. It was clear that he was annoyed, as he should be. I was supposed to, in the same way I had come to the client's house, walk back home afterwards (again, save gas). The problem was what had happened during the session.

I had reached the door of the house after hobbling down the streets, shivering in the bristling 30ish degree late-fall Georgia air. The man was already waiting on the doorstep outside. He looked to be around 40; a typical middle-sector resident. I saw what I assumed was his wife walking down the street with their two toddlers. Clearly he had ushered her out of the house as quickly as he could. I walked up the steps to the front door, maintaining eye contact with his shoes the entire time.

My Master had always told me to remember to show obedience and submission to the men I was serving. After all, I was just the whore they were paying to abuse. He grabbed me around the neck as I reached the doorway, his humongous and calloused hands fully around my throat, and yanked me inside.

"Listen to me you fucking pillow-biter. We have two hours, after that my wife and kids will be back, and I wanna nut at least three times, so you better do what I fucking say and make me fucking happy." he spat at me.

With his saliva dripping down my face, I choked out a response "Yes sir."

He tightened his grip on my neck, choking me even harder, and pulled me into the bedroom. He threw me down on the beige-brown sheets, and grabbed the nylon cord protruding from my asshole and tied to my collar. He pulled it mercilessly and I felt the easter-egg shaped metal container pop out of my boipussy.

Though I didn't remember him, he was clearly a prior customer, because he knew exactly where my Master put the hand and ankle cuff keys. He unlocked my ankle cuffs, and threw them to the side. Then he moved on to my hands and unlocked them, tossing them aside similarly. He then grabbed my ankles and pulled me down the bed until my feet were both on the floor and my torso was suspended just above the mattress. He spit, presumably on his cock, and I felt the slight tap as he brought the tip of his cock to kiss the puckered ass in front of him.

I glanced back and felt a shiver go down my spine. His cock must have been at least ten inches long. He pushed in and I groaned slightly, feeling my pussy try furiously to grow to accommodate the object it wrapped around.

"That's it faggot; take the whole thing", he said as he proceeded to push the rest in. He slid it in and out for the next ten-ish minutes, increasing his speed as my pussy juice provided lube. Finally, I felt his seed explode in me. One, two, three, four, five, six, then seven strings of it spurting deep into my bowels.

"Come on bitch take my seed get pregnant bitch," he said as he pulled out. Without wasting so much as a minute he whipped me around, and shoved his cock all the way down my throat. I immediately started using the techniques I had been trained on for so long by my Master, sucking on his cock, playing with it with my tongue, and trying my best to swallow, massaging the length of it that sat in my throat. After two minutes of consistently applying these three skills, he came a second time, this time four spurts.

He pulled out abruptly, not like the other guys I usually serviced, with their post-nut high. He dragged me by my hair for a few yards, as I stumbled and struggled to get to my feet. Finally he gave me a moment of sympathy and I scrambled up to my feet, but he resumed dragging me as soon as he had stopped. He led me through their living room and kitchen and down the basement stairs. As soon as we entered the basement I saw what his plan was for me now.

A wooden baseball bat was laid on the floor in the corner of the room, next to a whip. The whip wasn't one that was clearly made for kinky people though. This one was a real whip with nails sticking out of the first few segments. Hanging from the ceiling was a chain with handcuffs attached to them at the end. The chain was hung on a pulley which was visibly wired to a switch on the wall next to the bat and whip. He dragged me to the center of the room and closed the handcuffs on my wrist, securing me in place. He then walked to the corner of the room and picked up the whip.

"It's fucking pansies like you that disgust me. You make our society weak and horrible. Now you'll pay," he said as he unwound the whip.

He drew his arm back, and then let the whip fly. It struck me on the right ass cheek, and I felt the nails rip through my skin. I glanced back, and the wounds were bright red with blood. He drew his arm back once more, and repeated it. Again and again and again until my ass was raw and red. Then he put the whip down and reached for a container sitting on a side table set against the wall. He opened it and I saw the pink crystals inside of it glisten in the electric tube lighting illuminating the basement. Pink salt. He grabbed a handful and walked up to me.

"Now faggot, feel the pain," he said, as he rubbed it into my ass.

The pain was excruciating, but I had been trained to accept even higher levels of it, and my tears rolled down my face silently.

He, clearly unsatisfied that I had not made a sound, dusted off his hands, and went back to the corner. He grabbed the baseball bat and came to stand in front of me. Slowly, he positioned it next to my leg, as if he was queuing up for a golf swing. He raised it above his head and as I realized what he was doing, swung it down. It connected with my leg and my body rattled, wracked with pain.

Over and over he smacked my legs, until they were bruised and swollen in some places. Finally, he put the bat down in the corner, and let me out of the handcuffs. I collapsed to the ground, my legs unable to hold my body up.

"Get the fuck out my house," he said as he threw my handcuffs and ankle cuffs at my feet.

He walked up the basement stairs, leaving me sitting in a pile on the floor. His cum slowly leaked out of my red and swollen ass and my face was covered in a mix of saliva and his seed. I gathered up the things he had thrown down and started making myself up. I locked my ankle and handcuffs in place, and pulled my skirt back down. I tried to stand up, but as soon as I attempted to put pressure on my legs, I fell flat on the floor. I reached out my hand to pull myself along, and started crawling towards the steps. I crawled up them and through the house to the front door.

He was standing in the kitchen and sipping a beer, as if everything that had happened was merely an inconvenience to him. I crawled through the doorway and onto the front porch. Suddenly, I felt a kick to my balls. I groaned and fell flat to the floor.

"I'm calling your Master faggot; you're not going crawling away so people can gawk at you and see you were my toy. Embarrassing me? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

I was too exhausted to respond, so I just laid on the porch. Two minutes later, the man came back outside.

"Well if you're going to lay there you need to be punished for not walking home like your Master clearly wanted you to," he said.

I felt a warm stream of liquid on my back as he pissed all over me. The heat of his piss was a welcome feeling in the maybe 30 degree weather (though my ass wounds stung as it flowed over them) and I lay there still. Finally my Master arrived. I picked myself halfway up, and half-crawled half-stumbled to the car where my Master sat.

I opened the passenger seat door.

"What do you think you're doing faggot?!" he screamed. I froze.

"You're filthy with piss and in fucking huge trouble for disobeying me," he gestured to the open bed trailer attached to the back of the car.

"Get on there motherfucker, and sit on the dildo, so the whole neighborhood can see what a slut you are," he said.

I crawled back to the trailer and hauled myself on board. The dildo had been seemingly glued to the bed of the trailer. It was a horse cock, and it must have been at least a foot long. I lifted myself up (quite painfully because of my legs and wrecked boipussy) and sat down on the dildo. It felt as if it was expanding in my gut, and though my fag cunt hurt wrapping around its wide girth, I loved feeling every inch of it inside me.

Suddenly we started moving. My Master was driving slowly through the neighborhood, going maybe 5 miles per hour, ensuring that the men that were outside of their houses mowing the lawn, checking mail, or just enjoying a beer in the sun, could watch me as we drove by, rubbing their cock imprints through their pants. After a humiliating almost half hour, slowly cruising through the neighborhood, we reached home. I pulled myself up off the dildo painfully, and proceeded to go to the back patio; my post-appointment routine.

After every appointment, I would come to the back patio. There was a doorbell-type mechanism that I was to push, that would let my Master know I had arrived home. Once I pushed it, I was to get on my hands and knees, and lower the upper half of my body while pushing my cunt up in the air. He called this 'Presentation'.

He would come outside with the plug he had had custom-made for me; 12 inches long, and with a circumference of 7 1/2 inches. and walk over to me, retrieving the money from my waistband. He would adjudicate on the amount later; first he would remove the container with the keys from my pussy, and then insert the plug. He had always said "A fag's pussy should be filled with the shape of a real man's penis as often as possible".

Once he had stuffed me full, he would come around to the front of me. Then I was supposed to lick his shoes clean, as a thank you to him for letting me work. After his shoes were as shiny as he wanted, he would go back around to my behind. He would pull my cock up as far as he could, crouch down a little, and examine it.

This was the one area that my Master varied from what I had heard of other Masters. Where often they did not allow their slaves to cum, and even resorted to permanent chastity to make it impossible for them to, my Master had always held the opinion that slaves should be not just allowed, but MADE to cum, as often as possible. He said that "Fags are dirty animals, and their cum was even less valuable than dishwater, and as such they should be forced to reconcile with the fact of their filth regularly".

He would usually do some ball-busting first, most likely with a hammer or paddle he had brought with him. Once my balls were red enough for him, he would start pumping my cock. Pumping isn't the most accurate word, since my penis is pretty pathetic (a maximum of 1 inch when soft and maybe 2 1/2 when hard). When I finally came, he would collect it in his hand, and with the other hand pull out my buttplug. He would slather my cum on it, mixing it with my pussy juices, and then slide it back into my cunt.

Another thing to note was that, under my Master's orders, I never ate real food. This ensures that my gut is always empty and ready to use. He would get vitamins and other supplements from the drugstore, so he could keep me relatively strong; at least enough so to do my jobs at home and fulfill my clients, but other than that, the only things to enter my mouth were piss, cum, spit, and dicks.

After making me cum and feeding that cum into my boipussy, he would count how much money I made. If it was enough for him (which it only rarely was) he would hose me down, and usher me inside the house for training (which usually only really consisted of fuckings (face AND pussy), and physical punishment) before sending me back outside to my cage.

The cage was a sphere, maybe three or four feet tall, with a diameter obviously the same. He had attached it to a spare pipe that emerged from the ground in the middle of a huge ditch of mud, so it sat upright. The front half would open and I would sit on the dildo inside. Then I would close the door and try to rest until my next appointment or when he would come to get me for more training, or to do my chores.

In the much more likely event that I had NOT made enough money to satisfy him, he would make me stand up and walk over to the trellis on one side of the pergola. He would order me to raise my arms and spread my legs such that I formed a sort of human 'X'. Using wires that were already attached to the trellis (which would often cut into my wrists, upper arms, thighs, ankles, and neck) he would tie me so that my face was smashed up against the thick and splintery wood latticework and my ass was exposed to the air behind me.

He would then remove my plug, and insert a hose into my cunt, and start filling me up with 'The Potion'. I had never been able to ascertain its exact contents, but I believe it consisted of some mixture of his piss, his spit, water, and coconut oil. That last one I knew was in it for sure, because of the smell. He would fill me up until my stomach (which as you can imagine was almost concave in its natural state as a result of my non-food diet) was distended to almost three inches at its farthest point, and pushed painfully against the wood in front of it.

Taking the hose out, he would place a bucket under me; if, when he came to get me for my next appointment, I had prematurely spilled any of the solution, he would devise his own punishment for me. Usually he would call and tell the client I would be an hour late (which would serve to heighten their already high straight male anger levels; ensuring that I would receive a much angrier fucking at their house) and then do one of two things. If it was cold out, he would pour two piles of rice on the patio.

He would untie me, and still full of however much liquid was inside of me, he would have me kneel on the rice. Then he would dump the liquid on my head, letting it cascade down and coat the rest of my body. If it wasn't enough, he would piss on me, or if it was easier, go inside and get some honey, and then come out and pour some on me. This way, I would be suffering through the cold while wet, suffering through the pain of kneeling on the rice, and potentially be agonized by the numerous flies or other insects landing on me.

Before going to an appointment after this, he would hose me down with ice-cold water, and then pour more coconut oil on me to make sure I was nice and slippery. If it was warm or hot outside, then the punishment would be much worse. The patio was made of concrete, which was not only uncomfortable like rice, it also retained heat from the sun.

He would untie me similarly, then have me kneel on the ground, my knees hurting and being burned by the patio. Instead of pouring the liquid however, he would do something quite different. If I spilled a substantial amount of liquid into the bucket, he would still tip the contents into my mouth first (he was never one to waste a punishment method). He would then go into the house and return with clothespins.

These were not normal clothespins though; they had been rubbed against some hard surface to make their tips much less smooth, and more splintered, and then been coated with icy-hot. He would stick as many as he had time to, onto my various erogenous zones; often it resulted in about twenty shoved onto my cock and balls, ten on each ass cheek, five on my taint, three around each areola and one directly on the nipple, and seven 'stapling' my mouth closed.

While these each 'burned' and 'froze' my skin or other body part, he would put on gloves and use nettle leaves from the numerous nettle plants he had growing directly to the left of the patio. He would surround my knees with them, and they would sting the areas around where I was kneeling.

Today I knew I would receive a unique punishment though; not only had I disobeyed my Master's orders, I had made him drive four miles and waste gas (almost $3 worth of it). Once I had presented myself (as my legs burned with pain), and he had counted how much money I had made, he spoke.

"I'm very disappointed in you. You are akin to an object in the eyes of people, yes, but you are also my nephew. We are related by blood, and still you insist on making me feel an intense hatred for you. I have pushed your fourth appointment to tomorrow, so I can spend the rest of the-" he checked his watch; "-nearly 7 hours we have left until midnight punishing you," he looked back at me.