A day or two beforehand, I tell you that I've invited Chris over to watch game four of the World Series; we're all big baseball fans. You practically tremble with excitement-- the thought of being used and abused by two studs at the same time-- and you smile with a combination of arousal and shyness, and say, "Thank you, Sir. I'll be ready, Sir." You won't be ready for what I have in store for you, but I'm not going to tell you that.
We spend the hours before the game getting ready; nothing major, just straightening up the house and throwing some game food together. Of course, I make you wear just your padlock and a jock strap while we're working, and your delicious faggot pussy teases me so much as you walk by or bend over to do something that I have to fuck a hot load up your cunt twice.
About 30 minutes before Chris should be arriving, I say, "Wardrobe, faggot," and point upstairs. I'm wearing everyday clothes-- just a t-shirt that shows off my muscular torso and some old comfortable shorts-- but you'll be in a uniform of sorts... at least you will be when the evening begins. We go upstairs and I say, "You're going to be dressed up tonight, faggot. You can watch the game with us when you're not... busy... but I want you to look sharp because you're our butler tonight. And whatever the hell else we tell you you are, faggot." It's possible, but unlikely, that you'll guess correctly what that means tonight. "You got that, you dirty slut?"
"Sir yes Sir," you say. "Are you thinking suit and tie for me, Sir?" You begin looking through your shirts and ties. Which gives me a minute to think. You do look fucking hot in a suit, and the formality will reinforce your role as our servant... but your collar won't be visible if you wear a tie (it's far too heavy to wear over a buttoned-up shirt). I decide you'll start the evening in suit and tie, and that's what I tell you. I help you pick out a dress shirt that's tight enough to highlight all the planes and curves of your incredible upper body, and the suit whose pants do the same for your lush faggot ass and muscular legs. Even the suit coat is a bit small in all the right ways. You tie the full Windsor knot you know I like-- a thick, broad, tapering triangle that's a metaphor for your torso. When you're dressed, you look like the sort of smoking-hot bartender that everyone would be plotting to take home. It's impressive, and damn hot. I draw you into my arms, and we make out for a while, kissing ardently, hands all over each other's hard bodies. Then, just to reset the mood, I step back, hold your mouth open with my thumb, and hock a thick spit-wad into your mouth. You savor it a moment, then swallow it down and say, "Thank you, Sir. I love you."
"I love you too, faggot. Now listen up," I tell you, giving your broad shoulders one last brush with my hands. "As always when we have... guests..., you will refer to Chris as Sir', and me as Master', so there's no confusion. You will obey any request or command from Sir Chris as if it had come from me. Fuckups will be punished, and not in private." You nod, eyes gleaming in anticipation.
I have an idea. I hunt around in your toy box and pull out one of your vibrators; it can be turned up or down from my phone (and only mine), and it's shaped at the end like a butt plug to keep it inside you. I've had LOTS of fun taking you out with this toy in your cunt. Once when we went food shopping, the cashier was pretty hunky, and he assessed first me, then you, then me again, doing the math and smiling knowingly. I took out my phone as if I was bored, waited until he started talking to you, then cranked your toy up as high as it would go. Your knees practically buckled as your pussy started buzzing like a hive of bees, and I'm sure you must have given him a look of absolute lust. The cashier looked at me and smiled. Your collar was on prominent display, it was pretty obvious what was what. "He's a little tease, isn't he?" he asked me.
I smiled back. "No," I answered, letting the silence dangle for a moment until you looked up at me, worried I was mad or something. "He's a major fucking tease, and a massive slut to boot." You turned absolutely scarlet, a wet spot already visible in your crotch. "Give me your number, man... maybe sometime soon I'll let you take him for a test drive." He gave me his name and number, and I picked up half of our bags, calling, "Come on, boy," over my shoulder. You picked up the rest of our bags and followed me. I realized after a minute I'd never turned your cunt-toy back down. I watched you walk awkwardly back to the car, your pussy sending waves of lightening through your whole body; I only turned the vibrator off when you finally reached me.
I snap back to the present, and hold the toy out to you. You start to breathe a little faster, knowing what this means and loving it already. "Shove this in your cunt, faggot. I'll be watching the baseball game, and playing your pussy like a fucking video game at the same time. Unless we shove other things up there, of course." For sake of morale, I lean in and give you one more deep kiss... you look so damn good, you've got me turned on just by standing there. Then I break away, and pat the toy to your chest, giving it to you. "I do love you, faggot. And I love using you however I want, whenever I want. Come downstairs when you're ready. You're going to get SO used tonight, my little fucktoy."
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I will make you and Sir Chris proud tonight, Master." You unbuckle your trousers and slip the vibrator inside you, your pussy providing all the lube that's needed. I go downstairs and let you finish getting dressed again.
Chris arrives, handsome as ever, one of those tall, skinny-but-athletic types who looks like a runner, which he is. He's dressed casually like I am, a polo and skinny jeans showing off his build. He's always wearing a chain of some sort, usually a silver Cuban curb like tonight, but nobody would ever mistake him for an owned boy. He's pretty vers in reality-- I've fucked him a few times and he's a damn good bottom-- but of course tonight, he's all top too. We talked a week ago in preparation for tonight; he was a bit shocked at some of the things I told him we'd be doing, but he was FAR too intrigued to decline the invitation.
He's brought some beer and chips, and your timing is perfect, coming down the stairs looking so sexy in your suit, saying, "Hello Sir Chris, it's my pleasure to serve you tonight. May I take what you've brought off your hands, Sir?" Your eyes side-glance to me; you're always a little nervous serving someone else in addition to me... as if I don't know that your loyalty to me is rock solid.
Chris smiles. "Yes, faggot... you'll be taking what I've brought, and what I'm bringing." I admire the pun, even if it's dopey. "But first you can kiss my fucking shoes hello. On your hands and knees."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." While you're making out with Chris' sneakers, I give him a friendly sort of slap-hug on both shoulders. "Glad you could come, man. This could be it tonight... World Series champs!"
"Right on, brother!" We stand there for an awkward second before realizing that your dirty fucking mouth will be salivating over Chris' shoes until one of us tells you otherwise. "Ok, slut boy, stand up," I tell you. You do. "Take the beer to the fridge, except for the two you bring out to us. If Chris says you can have a beer, bring one for yourself."
Chris looks at you with a devious smile and says, "A buzzed fag is sluttier than a totally sober one, isn't that right bitch?" You blush again, loving the insults.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
A few innings later, you've been doing pretty well, keeping us supplied in food and beer, blushing (and dripping in your pants, I'm sure) when I pull your face towards mine and blast a huge beer belch in your face. When our team scores a run or gets a critical out, I crank up your vibrator, as I do when you've taken one of our cocks in your mouth; hearing you whimper and watching your pussy wag back and forth like an excited dog is priceless, as is the way it makes you dive into your duties, sucking us off or gulping down our piss in earnest. You've swallowed all of our piss all night, and when you aren't busy serving us, you sit in the floor between us, one arm around each of our legs, massaging them gently. The closeness is nice, but it won't help your mental state. I turn your toy down to the lowest setting; not off, but barely on enough to give your greedy cunt any real stimulation.
"Go kneel next to the TV, faggot," I tell you. "It's too warm with you clinging all over us." Plus, you look more like a trophy, my obedient butler bitch, kneeling in your formal clothes, hands respectfully behind your back. "And take that microscopic thing that used to be your dick out of your pants so it's on display, too... let's remind everyone how useless that nub of yours is, faggot." There's an obvious wet spot in the crotch of your pants... your tiny locked-up dicklet is leaking a lot for something compressed into such a small package; when you haul it out of your pants, your bush and your balls basically make the nano cage disappear. As we both know it should be.
It's an inning or so later that you accidentally miss a bit of my piss stream; it sprays across your cheek and splatters onto the floor behind you. In an instant you're back sucking on my pissing cock, but I take it as an opening. "What the fuck was that, faggot? Are you a fucking amateur? I've blasted enough gallons of piss down that throat of yours that I should tattoo "URINAL" across your face, but now you embarrass me in front of my friend?"
You pull off of my cock, looking down at the floor as you say quietly, "I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry, Sir Chris. I will do better." Chris looks at me, waiting.
"Take off your tie and unbutton your shirt enough so that we can see what you're wearing underneath, faggot." You loosen your tie enough to pull it over your head and place it on the coffee table, then open three buttons of your shirt to reveal your collar. "Pull down your pants, faggot, and get your sorry ass over my knee."
Once you're in place, I begin spanking that sexy firm butt of yours. I am not gentle, but you know you deserve it. "Chris, would you do me a favor and grab a hold of his padlock?"
"Sure thing, man." Chris holds the heavy lock so it rests more or less in his palm. It's hard to keep it there with your sorry body beginning to squirm as I set your bottom on fire.
"Faggot, what is Chris holding?" I ask you. SMACK
"Master, Sir Chris is holding my padlock. Thank--" SMACK "-- thank you, Master." I nod at Chris that he can let it fall back, so it swings in and out of your shirt and strikes your chest while I continue to spank you.
"And what does it mean that you wear my collar, faggot?" SMACK SMACK SMACK
"Thank you, Master! It means I'm your faggot slave." SMACK
"Does that collar ever come off?"
SMACK "No, Master. I have worn it 24/7 for years. Thank you, Master!" SMACK You are bucking on my legs, and I can feel a big wet spot where your dicklet makes it obvious that you get off on this (such as a faggot like you can), punished like a dirty boy over my knee, with Chris witnessing your shame, and undeniable arousal.
I tell you, "That's because you obey me 24/7. Always, everywhere, whatever I say." I increase the pace on your poor butt cheeks a bit. "Tell Chris what I just told you, you dirty cunt." SMACK SMACK
"I obey my Master 24/7, Sir Chris. Always, everywhere, whatever he says. Thank you for correcting me, Master. I love being your faggot slave. Please... OWWW!... Please spank my faggot ass for fucking up, Master." Both of sides your ass are a deep red now; I'm so hard I want to just shove my cock in your hole and plow you in two. You must be on fire from the spanking, but you're also trying to rub the head of my dick with your stomach to get me off. Cock-obsessed slut.
"That's fucking right you do, faggot. Now stop wasting our time-- look, Chris, we missed a single and an RBI. Stand up, faggot." You climb off my knee, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye; as always after a spanking, you kiss my hand (or whatever I used to tan your hide) and say once more, "Thank you, Sir, for spanking my faggot ass like I deserve."
"Look at his locked up little dink, Chris. Bitch doesn't have a cock anymore-- I'VE got the only cock in this household, because I'M the only man in this household. My faggot has a useless dicklet because he knows he was MADE to serve a man like me. And he's such a dirty little faggot that he gets off on it... look how his little nub is STILL leaking! Faggot, touch your cage gently and show Chris the little trail of juice you've made." When you touch the flat plate and pull your finger away an inch or so, a thin line of fluid connects them. You are going crazy with all this trash talk, I know.
"Look at my pathetic boy. Piss drying on his face, pants around his ankles, freshly spanked like a bad schoolboy. Turn around and show us that cherry red pussy, faggot." You do. "Pussy's probably wet and dripping because my dirty boy CRAVES this kind of abuse. His faggot pussy gets all wet for me, and his leaking little dicklet, and what will he say when I prompt him, do you think?"
You respond immediately, "Thank you, Master. Let me please you and Sir Chris, Sir, however you say."
"That's damn right, faggot. Now get us two more fucking beers and the rest of those snacks. But before you go, shove Chris' empty bottle into your cunt, so just the neck sticks out. It will be your dirty little faggot pig tail. You can leave your pants off for now." And of course, you take out your vibrator and obey, walking as best you can with the bottle neck peeking out between your cheeks.
When you come back, I can tell Chris is seriously hard and needs some attention. "You want to fuck his dirty faggot mouth or his slutty faggot pussy, man?" I ask him.
"Mouth. Poor little bitch just got my beer bottle into his pussy; let's let them get acquainted. Instead, I want to paint the fag with my sperm and watch it dry on his face along with your piss." You're already down on your knees, mouth open for yet more cock. For such a skinny guy, Chris has a big dick; not very thick but surprisingly long. Of course he shoves it all down your throat, trying to choke and gag you, but I've trained you too well, and you don't miss a beat. "Damn, this faggot's throat is MADE to be fucked, man!" you tell me. It doesn't take long before you're wearing his massive cum load all over your face; some of it plasters your hair, some of it drips from your chin, but a fucking ton of it frosts your face in big white blobs.
"Thank you, Sir," you tell Chris. "I love being a cock-sucking faggot."
I decide it's time... Chris knows what's coming, but you don't. First I tell you, "Bottle out and toy back in, bitch." As you start to comply, I ask "What else do you love being, faggot?" I ask you.
"I love being your bitch, Master, I love it when you whore me out to other men, I love all the nasty objects you shove in my pussy, I love it when you make me ask a man in a restroom if I may suck his cock or swallow his piss, I love it when..."
"Yes, faggot," I interrupt you. "We know you're a fucking slut when I want you to be. But Chris doesn't know some of your... other talents, does he?"
A microsecond of hesitation. "No, Master?"
"Tell Chris what I've recently taught you to do." This is going to be SO HOT to watch.
Your face turns absolutely crimson and you squirm a bit on your knees, but your still-stinging ass reminds you that you have to answer immediately, so you say quietly, "Master has taught me to be a full-service toilet, Sir." After you've said it, I crank your vibrator up to about 3/4. Your eyes roll back in your head a bit and your knees buckle briefly; it will help you admit the truth.
Chris laughs, pretending not to believe it. I've showed him the pics, so he knows it's true (and practically came in his pants when he saw). But he's playing the part we worked out together. "No way, no fucking way, man... are you fucking serious?!"
"Faggot, look Chris in the eye and tell him what you do for me."
"Yes Master." You barely manage to look at Chris, and your nub is leaking so hard it drips all the way to the floor. I surreptitiously turn your vibrator up a little. "Sir, I am Master's toilet. Master shits in my mouth and I swallow it, Sir."
Chris whistles as he gives my arm a soft, admiring punch. "Fucking-A... and you like eating his shit, faggot?"
"Sir, yes Sir. Master has made me his shit-eating toilet and I love it. I love swallowing all the shit he gives me, whenever he tells me to." I wonder if you fully realize what you just said, because we're about to see how right those words are.
Chris and I have planned what he'd say next. "Then show me, faggot. Show me how you eat your Master's fucking dump." I crank your vibrator up the rest of the way, knowing the stimulation will make you over-the-top horny with lust. You sort of bounce up and down on your knees, the waves of intense pleasure in your cunt making you want something fucking in and out of it, even though it's just the toy seated deep inside you. A few soft moans escape your lips before you get control-- partial control-- of yourself.
You look at me, nervous but VERY turned on. Being my toilet has always been a very private part of your service. I've never mentioned it to any of the guys I've made you service since then, none of the guys at the bar who I make you tell the kinds of things you do for me. "Master?" you ask me, feeling like you need permission. It's cute the way you defer to me. I nod my head decisively.
"Master, may I please eat your shit, Sir?" I ignore the amusing confusion of titles... you are, after all, about to chew and swallow the waste from my ass in front of my friend. I'm sure there's a lot on your mind.
"You'd better get every fucking inch in your stomach, faggot. Impress my buddy with what a shit-eating whore you've become, or your last trip over my knee will seem like a fucking massage. Go get your rim seat from upstairs, toilet boy. And get dressed again--do up your shirt and put your tie back on, faggot. You're going to be my shit-eating butler slave tonight. Just leave your useless dicklet out where us real men can see it and laugh." I set the vibrations down quite a bit so it's easier for you to perform these tasks.
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." You're back in record time and quickly get re-dressed, looking like a dirty little slut of a butler, super-handsome looks made only hotter by the cum and piss dried on your face. You've pulled your balls out of the fly of your pants, because that's the only way your tiny nub won't disappear back inside. Then you get under the rim seat and say, "Your toilet is ready for you, Master."
Chris sits down on the floor next to us; he's whipped his cock out again and is hard as a rock, ready to watch. You go to town as always on my shitter, making an impressive (and impressively loud... what an adorable ham you are in front of company) show of sucking on my asshole. "Faggot. When it comes, hold it in your mouth until I'm done. I'm going to get up so we can see how much I've given you, and then Chris can watch how much you love chewing and swallowing your man's turd."
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." A few seconds later, a nice, warm, firm log slithers out of my hole and into your waiting mouth. It must be over foot long-- it's certainly filling your mouth, and at least 6 inches stick out past that-- but that should be no big deal for you these days. When I'm done, I get up and kneel next to Chris, who also kneels so he can jack off easier. I also put your vibrator back up to high. I can tell it's actually hard for you to just hold my turd in your mouth without swallowing, I've trained you so well. When I dial your toy back up, it's even harder for you to keep from chomping down, driven to swallow mouthfuls of shit by the lust coursing through you from your cunt.
"Fucking hell, man... he's got your fucking SHIT in his mouth! That is so fucking NASTY... and SO FUCKING HOT!" We planned this part, too; Chris is honestly super turned on and means every word, but still not quite believing what he's seeing. And he's going to town on his pole; I lay a hand briefly on his arm so he doesn't drop another load-- not yet.
"Eat all my shit up, faggot. Show my buddy what a toilet slut you are." You're hamming this up to, moaning and making a show so it's obvious you're eating my dump and loving it. Your pussy must be like a lightening storm of desire, because you're sort of bouncing your ass up off the floor a bit, even though it must still sting when it slaps back down on the floor. You are so taken by the hunger that you briefly touch your nub; I know it's accidental but I slap your balls hard once for consistency's sake. You react by swallowing an especially large mouthful, looking deep into Chris' eyes as you eat. "No touching, faggot. You know that. Just do your fucking job-- you were MADE to eat my shit, toilet." You look fucking amazing-- sharply dressed, handsomely built, making a meal of my giant shit log while my friend watches.
When you've almost gotten it all down, you begin opening your mouth wide to show us what's left, swallowing the last bits and ostentatiously licking your teeth, opening wide to prove your mouth is empty-- as if we didn't just watch a 14" turd, surely over a pound of man shit, disappear into your guts. "Thank you Master. I am your obedient shit-eating faggot." You smile at us both.
I keep my tone very casual, but firm. "Good. Because now you're going to eat Chris' shit, too."
Your eyes go wide with apprehension, but I give you no time. I turn the toy off completely, the sudden lack of stimulation like a massive withdrawal, something you'll do anything to get back. You actually whimper, almost a sob. Waves of shit-smelling breath come to us as you pant in a sweaty heap on the floor. "Faggot, after you swallow my buddy's dump, we will double-fuck your pussy. You want both of our cocks plowing your cunt wide open and seeding you, don't you?"
That you can answer with no hesitation. "Yes please, Master!"
"And you love being my shit-eating faggot... you just said that, didn't you?"
You know you're trapped. "Yes, Master. I am your shit-eating faggot and I fucking love it."
"Then prove it." The words come down like iron, allowing no alternative. I know you'll do it. "Look at how hard I am, how hard Chris is. Two fucking stud jocks who are going to use you like the dirty little bitch you know you are. And don't pretend your little dicklet isn't oozing like mad. You. WILL. Eat. His. Shit. Faggot. Because I fucking told you to."
"Ye... yes, Master. I will eat... Sir Chris, may I please be your toilet faggot too, and eat your shit Sir?"
"Fuck yes you can, you dirty fucking slut!" Chris climbs onto the rim seat. "This bitch is amazing, man. There's nothing he won't do!"
In no time you're making love to Chris' hole, coaxing your second shit meal out of him. He's nervous, I can tell, not sure if he can relax enough, but your expert mouth soothes his sphincter, and eventually he too is pushing out a slick toilet snake into your mouth. His isn't as big as mine was, but still big, and softer. You begin eating this too, and I know you'll get it all down, but it will be harder for you. That's a LOT of shit to take in, even for a greedy fuck like you. When you start flagging, I give your cunt some mid-level vibration and you return to chewing and swallowing, struggling but knowing you NEED to accomplish it. Soon Chris is back kneeling next to me, one arm around my shoulder as his other hand pulls on his cock, watching you struggle to get it all down. We kiss a little bit, but neither of us wants to look away from you. I tell you to watch us make out while you're swallowing, so you can see how turned on and pleased we are with our toilet slave.
Eventually I tell you that I'm going to loosen your tie and unbutton your shirt. It'll still be obvious you're dressed formally, but your chest and stomach will be exposed. It'll look hot in the pics I'll soon be taking.
Then I tell you, "Faggot, I'm going take some of that shit on my fingers. I'm going to write "SHIT EATING" across your face, and "FAGGOT" across your pecs. Because that's what you fucking are, aren't you bitch?" You nod your head, and soon enough I've got your graffiti done. For good measure, I take another blob and smear it down the center of your abs to your belly button. You'll thank me later for making it a tiny bit easier to finish your second meal by making you wear some of the shit. Truth is, it'll look hot as fucking hell when we've mounted you on both our cocks, too. I rush into the kitchen to clean off my hand, then return.
As predicted, the rare treat of not one but TWO man-cocks in your pussy is what gets you to finish your difficult toilet task. We clear the rim seat away, take off your pants, spread your willing legs, and maneuver into a sort of a Y-shape, both of us under you at angles so we can watch the rest of your show while plowing you. Chris has the idea to move over so you can lean your torso against the wall, propping yourself up for better visibility and giving us better access. In no time you've got our two big cocks-- one super thick and one super long-- stuffed into your greedy cunt, and you're fucking yourself up and down on us as you ravenously eat the rest of that shit. You're like the nastiest, sluttiest businessman ever-- rock-hard physique revealed under your shirt and tie, collared and padlocked, shit graffiti advertising your true identity, being double-fucked by two studs as you chew and swallow a man's shit load-- your second in an hour. One of your hands is rubbing up and down in that shit trail on your belly, smearing those washboard abs in your lust and degradation. I notice you are careful never to smear the writing on your chest, though. It makes me smile. That hot bartender everyone was creaming themselves over? He sure has some dirty fucking needs when you get him in the back room, I think to myself.
With another cock in you beside mine, I can't tell if your pussy cums or not-- I don't give a fuck if you don't, but I do like to keep track-- but soon enough Chris and I are both dumping our cum into you; now you're filled with double loads at both ends. I pull out in time to blow the last wad onto your face, joining the shit, piss, and cum that's already there, the hottest trifecta ever.
Also, our team won it in 10 innings, clinching the World Series in four straight games. So we're all champions tonight.
Except you. You're my dirty faggot toilet slave, with a bottomless cunt for cock and a bottomless hunger for shit.