A Fag Slave to my Uncle Pt. 01

"Maybe after that I'll let your pathetic body have a rest before your chores," he added.

My chores were a task I absolutely hated. My Master had instructed me that I was to spend as much time as possible pleasuring men, and when I had to take time to do other work, it made me feel undisciplined and incorrect. I tried to justify it to myself by telling myself that I was indirectly helping my Master. I had a printed chore sheet pinned up on the wall inside the house. It looked like this:

fag Duties {

Clean the house

Sweep the floors of each room and then mop them.

For bathrooms, lick the floor and toilets clean, then do the above.

Absolutely prohibited from cleaning either your cage or other places of training/punishment.

Do the dishes, dry them, and put them away.

Not permitted to use hot water or gloves.

Take out the garbage, the recycling, and the beer bottles.

Tied recycling and garbage bags must be carried by mouth out to the cans, and once placed in the cans should be closed quietly.

(Only Sundays) Take the garbage and recycling cans down to the curb.

Check mail everyday at five o'clock.

If at an appointment at this time, it is your responsibility to remember to do it when you return; punishment will be given otherwise.

Do the laundry.

You may only wash your skirts with express permission from your Master and;

Your skirts (the pink mesh one, the sheer white one with white lace, the black leather one with garters, and the red silk one with matching stockings) are not allowed to touch, be washed with, or be dried with your Master's clothing.

Do your Cam Work

Each week at least 36 hours need to be spent on camera doing any one of the following activities:

Pussy play

Plugs, Dildos, Balls, other approved items (see your Master)

Cock play

Dilators, Candles/Wax, Ball-Stretchers, other approved items (see your Master)

Nipple play

Clips, Needles, other approved items (see your Master)

Throat play

Dildos, other approved items (see your Master)

At least $21,600 ($600/required hour) should be earned each week; punishment will be given otherwise.

General care for Master

Ensuring his coffee is ready for him when he wakes up.

Ensuring that his breakfast is ready for him when he comes downstairs (same with lunches and dinners).

Ensuring his car is clean.

Outside should be licked clean and inside can be wiped with rags and cleaning solution.

Ensuring BDSM and other torture instruments are put back in position after training or punishment.

Errand-Running

Making sure groceries are stocked (nearest supermarket is only a mile).

Other errands at Master's discretion

Be sure to wear one of your skirts when you exit the house to try to minimize men using you (remember that the task at hand is the most important), but also remember to never deny a real man if he wants to fuck you while you are out.

}

"Yes Master," I replied, my bruised legs still holding my raw and red ass high up in the air. He grabbed my hair, and started pulling me towards the basement doors. We went through the doorway and I strained to look up and I stumbled along, trying to regain my footing as my Master continued to drag me by my hair.

The house was huge, with seven bedrooms and six bathrooms, and a square footage of approximately 10,000. It was valued at about $2 million, which for my Master was a drop in the bucket. By using me, he earned; $300 for every appointment, averaging 3-4 a day, every day, for 52 weeks, plus the cam earnings which usually averaged around $21,600 a week, he was getting a good $27,900 to $30,000 a week in his pocket ($1,450,800 to $1,560,000 a year).

He also sent videos of my training/punishments to individual buyers for the highest price, which averaged about $5000/week ($260,000 more per year). On top of all of that, my Master had what he called "Soirees", twice a month in our house. He would charge $100 a head for men to come in and enjoy a giant orgy, with me as the centerpiece. I would be tied to a rope that ran down from a hook in the 30 ft high ceiling, and while all the men were partying and drinking with each other, they could come over and do whatever they wanted to me.

At the end of each of these 'Soirees', my Master would raise the rope so I was suspended off the ground like a disco ball, and auction me off to the highest bidder (usually anywhere between $1000 and $5000), who would get to take me home for the night (usually for fucking, but sometimes just to torture). All in all, my Master was well taken care of, and I was proud that I could help him to live the life he deserved.

He continued dragging me through the downstairs floor until we reached a door. He went through the door, down the steps behind it. I stumbled along behind him. In the middle of the basement there was a metal plate, maybe 6x6 feet, and it was connected by metal wire to a box-shaped contraption with a lightning bolt image on the side of it.. There was a dumbbell on the shelf next to the plate. It was connected with very little tension to a pulley located on the ceiling.

The pulley was wired (technologically, not by metal wires) to a camera that I noticed sitting 6 feet away from me, angled directly at me. My Master dragged me over to the plate, and attached my ankles to cuffs emerging from the middle of the plate. With my feet flat on the plate, and positioned where my Master had put me, my toes were on a thin strip of plastic, and the rest of each foot rested directly on the metal plate.

My legs were, uncomfortably so, partially criss-crossed as I stood. He pulled my arms behind me and zipped them into an arm binder. It must have been attached to a hook or something up high, because I heard a chain moving as my arms were pulled upward behind me. This forced me to arch my back and pitch my upper body forward as my arms continued to be pulled until they felt as if they might snap out of their sockets.

Additionally, I was forced to go up on my tip-toes, meaning the only part of my foot touching the ground was touching the plastic strips. From my ass, my Master pulled my plug out roughly, and I felt some of my cunt juices leak out. He then inserted a cool (metal probably) and smooth plug into my boipussy. I could just barely see around my intertwined legs to notice there was a metal wire running out of the plug too. It moved as my Master came around me and attached it to the dumbbell. He took from off the shelf a tiny cock ring made of metal, with two strings of metal wire running off of either side of it. He shoved the ring around my sissy penis and balls, and attached one string to the dumbbell, and the other to my collar. He then took two, foot-long wires, and attached them to each of my nipple piercings, and then to my collar. Next, he attached a wire connecting my belly button piercing to the cock ring, and then one connecting my septum piercing to my collar.

"Listen up faggot because I'm only explaining this once. This dumbbell weighs 5 pounds. I wanted it originally to be 10, but after seeing your injuries on your legs, I decided to have mercy on you. Thank me for that."

"Thank you Master, I am eternally grateful to you," I said.

He nodded slightly, and then continued.

"The dumbbell will be placed in your mouth for you to hold. The wires connect it to your sissy cunt, your pussy plug, your collar, your disgusting sissy breasts, your septum, and your belly button. If you drop the dumbbell, each of those parts of your filthy body will be shocked,"

I felt a chill run down my spine as he recited these directives to me.

"This camera is live streaming right now, with about 100 viewers already. This is not allowed to count towards your hours of cam work by the way cunt. The camera is programmed to send a signal to the dumbbell every five minutes. If you make $50 within those five minutes, nothing will happen. If you make less than that, the temperature of the bar in the middle will be raised 5 degrees fahrenheit. If you drop the dumbbell, the only way to raise it back to mouth level is by the pulley up there," he said as he gestured.

"The only way to do that is to get more than 50% of your viewers to click the 'raise dumbbell' button on their screen. As in, you have to beg," He chuckled.

"The live stream is programmed to end at midnight, and the arm binder will unlock. You will then unlock your ankle cuffs, and disconnect the wires. Then take care of any of your daily chores you haven't yet, and go to your cage. Are we clear?" he asked.

I responded "Yes my Master, Thank you Master".

He shoved the dumbbell in my mouth. The weight of the contraption sat heavy in my jaw as my teeth furiously bit down on it. My Master walked towards the stairs, ascended them, and exited the room. Two or so minutes passed quietly, with me concentrating on maintaining a hold on the dumbbell. Then I started to feel it slip. At first I thought it was ok, but then I was sure it was moving. It slowly fell until it slipped out of my jaw and fell with a clang to the floor.

The electricity flew into my body, excruciating and arousing, and I felt each of the places where the wires had been attached vibrating with current. Through the pain (which was excruciating) I remembered my Master's directive to beg the audience to raise the dumbbell.

"Please Sirs! I humbly beg of you please to take pity on a sissy fag! Please raise the dumbbell," I went on groveling for a minute or two, with my parts still buzzing with electricity, and finally I heard the gears move and saw the dumbbell begin to ascend.

The electricity stopped and I heaved, the effort having stripped me of any resolve I had left. This went on for hours upon hours, with me dropping the dumbbell no less than 20 times, and the viewers 'picking it up' after anywhere from 1 minute of begging, to 10. Finally, the red light on the camera shut off, and my arm binder suddenly unlocked, sending me crashing to the floor.

I landed on the still-electrified metal plate, in what was clearly meant by my Master as a final moment of pain and suffering, and I scrambled to my feet, unlocked my ankle cuffs, and collapsed onto the floor beside it. I hurriedly took off all the wires, straightened my skirt, and went up the basement stairs to take care of my chores and then try to rest. I saw a note scrawled in my Master's handwriting stuck to the door.

"Appt moved from today to 7 am tomorrow. Be ready or face the consequences."

I went through the doorway and hurried over to the list of chores, getting ready to work on those until 7.