The Cockpig

This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2021 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved.

Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction.

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The Cockpig

Chapter 7

Plateaus. Every training regimen has them. It doesn't matter what the program is; if it's a progressive, goal-oriented training program, it's going to have plateaus. They can be deadly to progress.

Whether it's a weight loss regimen, or strength training, or body building, there are two phases which are the most difficult – getting started, which requires both motivation and momentum; and the plateaus, when it appears no progress is being made, even with continued effort. Plateaus kill both motivation and momentum. Anyone that's accomplished significant change can tell you, you have to push through the plateaus to reach your goals. If you don't, you stall, get frustrated, then finally give up due to lack of results.

Plateaus happen when training faggots, too. The important thing is to remember that any faggot can perform better with proper training. So, do not give in to your frustration at its failure to show improvement. You just have to push through the mental barriers your cum dump has encountered with firmness, while applying some new techniques to help shake things up a bit. Otherwise, you'll never get rid of those barriers, the things some people call "limits". Always remember: people, who can make choices, have limits which they themselves set; faggots, who don't get choices, just have barriers which need to be removed. Removal of these mental barriers makes the faggot far more useful, of course. After all, there are only two things which give a faggot value: its utility and its obedience.

The cockpig had been living with me for about four months when it hit its first plateau. Not that it wasn't performing up to par; I wouldn't have tolerated that for a second. No, it still performed as ordered, but its performance wasn't improving. It had become a bit listless and not nearly as responsive as it was before. While it was still very obedient, that look of fear was gone from its eyes. Yes, it did everything it was told to do, but there was no extra effort to please me. It was still giving 100%, but not the 110% I'd expect from a cockpig eager to prove itself to its new owner.

I decided it needed an additional push to get past this plateau, something to motive it further.

So, I planned a party. Invited some guys over to watch the game and see the cockpig in action.

Not a big party, of course. Just a small one, a chance to introduce a few of my friends the cockpig and give them a chance to inspect the new property. I discovered very early on that the pig was really quite shy. Being made to do anything in public which revealed what it was, anything which showed the world what it was good for, was deeply humiliating and degrading to the cockpig, so of course I made such things a high priority. Part of effectively training a subhuman slave is identifying all those psychological barriers to its service, then relentlessly tearing them down.

I decided to alter the pig's appearance some, not just to show off its looks, but to reinforce the idea that I controlled everything in its life. I also wanted to make sure the pig really grasped the fact that its only purpose in life was to serve and please its betters, even if that meant changing its appearance.

The first thing I did was take some clippers to its head. When I'd brought it home to live with me, one of the first acts of stripping away its old life was to shave its head right down to the skin. God, I hated seeing all that pretty ginger hair fall to the floor, but sacrifices must be made. Besides, when I was done and turned the cockpig towards the mirror, it gasped, the reflection showing it the reality of its new life. It cried a little then, but I didn't mind that.

During its training, the hair had grown back, of course. This time, I buzzed its head to a nice short "high and tight", so the red really showed and it was fun to feel, especially when I made the pig rub its head against my balls. I left a longer patch, though, right near the front – its "fuck handle", I told it. Perfect for grabbing and controlling its head when you are fucking its mouth, or when its tongue is buried up your ass. When the pig saw its new hairstyle in the mirror, it whimpered a bit at the strange look.

"Yeah, pig, it looks a little ridiculous, but the fuck handle is functional, and that's what matters. Just another added feature for a man's convenience," I explained. I grabbed its new handle and pulled its face into my crotch, giving it a quick demonstration of how easily it could be controlled that way.

Being a ginger, the cockpig was mostly hairless anyway, but I removed what little there was under its arms and on its legs. Of course, it had been keeping its asshole and crotch shaved since before we met, except for a small decorative patch around its drain, mostly because I love the look of red pubic hair. If anything, that patch emphasized how smooth the rest of it was, and it worked to really set its chastity cage into high relief.

When the day of the party arrived, I could tell the cockpig was nervous. No, not nervous – terrified. This was a big step for it, its "coming out" party, so to speak. Up to this point, the only person that had ever seen it in its newer, more natural state besides me was its former roommate and best friend, Cody, and then only for a few moments. This was the first time it would be presented to others, to strangers, as an owned object, something subhuman. I could tell the idea alone was really fucking with its brain. It had dreamed about this kind of thing for years, and now those wet dreams had come true. This was its daily life, and it was about to be displayed to total strangers as the thing it had willingly become. No - that it had begged to become. Mentally, the entire situation was almost overwhelming for the cockpig. But that's exactly what I was going for. Gotta get past that plateau.

I decided to outfit the faggot with a special little treat for my guests: a pig-tail butt plug. What better way to reinforce for the cockpig that it wasn't a person, but a piece of livestock? The hot-pink curly tail sticking out from between the fag's tight little ass cheeks looked amazing. I made it crawl in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom so it could see itself completely exposed: plugged, shaven, with a pink tail. The only parts of its flesh not fully exposed for everyone to see were the parts covered by its collar and chastity cage. I made sure to put on the clear plastic cage, so my guests would be able to observe its little drain straining against the plastic.

Its instructions were simple: it was only allowed to say two things: "Yes Sir" and "Thank you, Sir," unless it was addressed directly. After all, no one really cared what it thought or had to say, and there was no reason for "no" to be a part of its vocabulary, anyway. It would welcome our guests by opening the door on its knees, kissing their feet, and presenting itself for inspection. I knew this last part would be the hardest for it – letting total strangers see it as it lived: on its knees, drain locked, collared, shaved. A thing, to be inspected by any men whom I allowed to use it. Just before I left it kneeling in the foyer, I added one more decoration to it, as a treat for our guests: I hung a small brass bell from the tip of its chastity cage. I could see the confusion on the faggot's face when I put it there, but I knew it would understand the implications soon enough.

You should have seen the pig. I made it wait by the door on its knees for a good while before the first guests arrived, just sitting there contemplating what was about to happen to it, and how it had no control over any of it. I don't know exactly what was going through its little faggot mind, but soon after I placed it there, its drain was hard and throbbing in the chastity cage. From time to time, some idea would enter its head and it would start blushing all over, that pale skin turning a deep red, throwing its freckles into high relief. After a while, its drain was dripping right through the cage, creating a little puddle of precum on the floor in front of it. It wasn't a problem though – I'd trained the little cunt to lick up any trace of its pig scum to keep my floors nice and clean. Every few minutes, while it waited, it would bend over and lick up the liquid evidence of its need for abuse. Once its drain was as hard at it could get in that tiny cage, filling the plastic prison and throbbing along with the fag's heartbeat, the cage started to bounce, making the tiny bell ring with each throb of its little nub. The best part was the look on its face after about the third little ring of the bell, when it finally figured out what was causing it, when it realized the bell wasn't just a decoration, it was an alarm – a faggot hard-on alarm, designed to make sure everyone nearby knew the cockpig was aroused, as well as to draw attention to its caged nub.

Zack was the first guest to arrive. Ever seen the show "Archer"? The main character, Sterling Archer, the super arrogant, really smug asshole with the great body? That's Zack to a tee. He doesn't look anything like Archer, though, except that he's got a great body from all that CrossFit he does. He's 30, clean-shaven, with a great jawline. About 5'10, with blond hair and broad shoulders, Zack fills out his clothes very well – especially his jeans. He's got a bulge in his pants that you can't miss, no matter what he's wearing. He's straight, but very cruel. Most females aren't hardcore enough to handle Zack, which is how we became friends. I let him work over one of my previous slaves, just to get it out of his system, and we've been friends ever since.

Zack was carrying a long, thin box under his arm when he came in. He said hello to me, momentarily ignoring the cockpig at his feet kissing his Nikes, then handed me the box.

"Found this online and thought of you. Figured it would make a nice party gift. Open it later, though," he said, an evil little smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

Finally, he bent down, grabbed the fuck handle on the pig's head and pulled it to its feet. I was proud to see my training was paying off: the cockpig immediately spread its legs, assuming an inspection position, its head pulled back by Zack's grip on its hair, with its hands locked behind its neck, leaving all parts of it on display and completely exposed for anything Zack decided to do with it. He reached out and grabbed the pig's tits, pinching its delicate little nips and lifting it up on its tiptoes, rolling the very tips of the faggot's nipples between his fingers, until he finally made the pig gasp and then squeal from the pain. As he held it there on its tiptoes, suspended by its tits pulled way out from its chest, he glanced down and laughed, commenting on the fact that the cockpig's drain was hard as a rock and throbbing in its cage, causing the bell to ring urgently with the faggot's need. That caused the pig to blush with shame, knowing that this total stranger was not only casually inflicting pain on it for his own amusement, but that we were both laughing at its depravity, at the fact that such abuse, rather than causing its nub to shrink from the pain, instead made it throb even harder.

Zack finally let go, and we went into the living room to relax, leaving the pig to greet the other guests as they arrived. I set the box Zack brought down in the corner of the living room out of the way.

Scott arrived next. He runs one of those sports bars, so it was a lucky thing for me he had the night off. No party is really complete without him. He's got a great sense of humor, as well as a viciously cruel streak when it comes to faggots. Scott's a body builder, with a massive chest and huge shoulders and arms. He's in his early 30s, and let me tell you, this dude is a beast! Unlike a lot of body builders, he's not just big, he's strong as well. I couldn't wait for him to get ahold of the cockpig and put it through its paces.

I started laughing out loud at the faggot when it got a look at Scott. He's massive all over. The faggot was licking his dress shoes in greeting when I walked into the foyer. Scott lifted the pig's face with his foot, letting it get a good look at what a mountain of a man he is. I thought the cockpig was going to piss itself in fear right then. It began to tremble and whimper, obviously aware that whatever this man decided to use it for would hurt like hell, and it would be utterly helpless to stop it, even if it had the balls to try. Scott reached down and grabbed the pig's fuck handle, pulled its head into the crotch of his dress slacks, and began grinding his crotch into its face, letting the pussyboy get a face full of the pipe growing down his leg. I told you, Scott is massive all over, including in his pants. By the time Scott was done, there was an even deeper look of fear in the cockpig's eyes as it realized that this huge pole would soon be buried inside it, whether it wanted that to happen or not. As if it even deserved a choice in the matter...

While Scott and I were greeting each other, he casually pulled the pig's head around to his ass and jammed its face between his muscular ass cheeks, grinding the faggot's face into his asshole, letting it get a good whiff of his musky sweat. I'm not even sure the pig could breathe. Scott was cramming its face into his ass hard, with the two mounds of his muscular cheeks pinching its nose firmly in place.

As the cockpig was struggling desperately to breathe, even if to just get a whiff of air flavored by Scott's ass sweat, Josh opened the door and walked in. Josh is an old friend. I've known him since he was a teenager. Rough kid with a rough home life, he learned cruelty from his family at an early age. When I met him, he'd just turned 18, but he was already a pretty mean little shit, constantly getting in trouble with everyone: parents, school, cops. He liked to fight and fuck, and did a lot of both, apparently. I saw the way he treated some of the girls he slept with, and knew he was a kindred spirit. So, I introduced him to a faggot I was training at the time. He was reluctant at first, afraid people would think he was gay. You know how self-conscious teen boys can be. But he quickly took to using faggot slaves like a duck takes to water. Once he learned he could abuse them any way he wanted and they'd not only obey but actively beg him for more, Josh was hooked. He still preferred women, but he started regularly using and training faggots to be his slaves. Before he did something stupid and got sent to prison for a couple of years, Josh had one bitch damn near completely trained. The things he put that fuckhole through were hilarious and downright evil. But those are tales for a different day.

Josh isn't that big, especially standing next to a mountain like Scott. He's only about 5'9, but he's well-built and pretty muscular, not from hours in a gym but from lots of manual labor. Josh has always worked construction and remodeling jobs, so he's got the rough hands and ropey muscles of a worker, someone who does hard labor all day long instead of sitting in an air-conditioned office in front of a computer. His time in prison certainly didn't hurt his build, since he'd had nothing to do but pump iron and abuse some of the other inmates. He keeps his brown hair cut prison-short, in a single length buzz all over. Unlike Scott, who has a full beard and looks more like a business executive than a bar manager, Josh is clean shaven and covered with tattoos, a few of them professionally done, but many a result of his time inside, hand poked in some cell. Josh is only 27, but he's packed some hard living into that time, which has only made him even meaner, it seems. I love having him around just to see how cruel he can be.

Josh and Scott greeted me and high-fived each other. They'd been to my parties before. Scott, ever the gentleman, passed the cockpig's fuck handle to Josh, allowing him to take over using it. Josh looked like he'd just come from a job site. His jeans and work boots were dirty, and he had an odor of sweat that hung on him; not nasty, per se, but you could tell he'd been working. Josh got a mean little grin on his face as soon as he grabbed the faggot's hair, and immediately shoved the pig's face into his ass, rubbing its nose against his faded blue jeans. Suddenly, Josh let out a long, loud fart, right into the pig's face. My little cockpig started to struggle in an effort to pull away from the disgusting smell, but Josh just pulled on its hair tighter, laughing at it being forced to inhale his rancid gas. That's just how an alpha male like Josh greets a subhuman fuckpig.

Once Josh was done feeding the cockpig his farts, Scott grabbed its hair and pulled it to its feet, then bent down and threw the faggot over one of his shoulders, carrying the cumdump like a sack of potatoes. Yeah, he could have just made it crawl behind them into the living room, but Scott liked showing off his strength, and I could tell it made the pig feel small and completely helpless in a way even bondage wouldn't have accomplished. This was a superior man demonstrating his raw power, using his muscles and size to accentuate the vast difference between what he is and what the cockpig is. He carried the fuckhole like it weighed nothing, not even breaking a sweat as he toted it into the living room and deposited it, whimpering and trembling, on the floor where it belonged.

I nudged the cockpig with my foot in order to get it back on its knees where it belonged. "Gentlemen," I said to the guys, "allow me to show off my newest piece of property, my new cockpig. I suppose a quick rundown of its uses is in order before the game begins."

This was an important part of the evening, as well as a crucial part of the cockpig's training. As deeply humiliating as it was for it to be seen by others as a faggot slave, I wanted to push it even further, take its degradation to a deeper level. What was more degrading than being seen and used as a cockpig? Why, having to admit it out loud in front of strangers, of course! Time to hear the faggot recite its catechism for our guests.

"Who am I," I asked.

"My Master," it promptly replied.

"What else? Tell these men," I demanded, grabbing the faggot's chin and pulling its face up so it could see the guys staring at it.

"My...my owner," it stammered, blushing. Admitting it was owned property was hard, but even harder with four sets of alpha male eyes boring into it, judging it.

"Anything else, cunt?" I asked, my grip on its chin tight enough it couldn't turn away.

The faggot was silent for a moment, its mouth hanging open slightly, a pleading look in its eyes. It hated this: having to explain itself to others, to explain its life and its new role to normal people, to real men. Finally, it summoned its courage and replied.

"You are my god, Sir."

"It's god?" Zack sneered at the faggot. "Is it saying it worships him?"

The cockpig looked at me, pleading with its eyes, its bottom lip trembling from the humiliation of being exposed like this. I could tell this was painful for it, that it wanted to just disappear into the floor instead of having these men see it this way. So, of course, I pushed it further.

I released my grip on the cockpig's chin long enough to give it a good, hard slap across the face. "A man asked it a question. Answer, cum dump."

"Yes, sir, it worships its Master and Owner, sir."

"Tell them its name," I ordered.

"Sir, you haven't given it one. You said objects don't have names," it replied, breaking eye contact. I saw it swallow, hard. This was intensely stressful for the bitch.

"Well, what's it good for, at least?" Josh demanded.

The pig hesitated, trying its best to look at the floor. But our scrutiny wasn't going to be escaped so easily. I grabbed the hair on top of its head and pulled its head up until it was staring straight at the Josh.

"Sir, it will do anything you need, Sir," the faggot replied.

"Oh yeah?" Josh asked. "I think it should give us a list of what its good for. Maybe, like, a menu of its services."

"Yes, sir," the faggot responded, swallowing hard. "Sir, you can fuck it if you want."

"Hmmm. What if I don't just need to fuck?" Josh followed up. "Maybe I need to piss, instead. What will it do then I wonder?"

The faggot turned a deep read. I walked around behind it, and repositioned its head, so it was directly facing all three of our guests and held its head there so it was impossible for it to look away. I wanted it to admit what it was, all of what it was good for, while they stared it down. And stare it down they did, their eyes boring into it, like they were looking into its very soul. I wanted it to see the disgust in their eyes, and truly comprehend the deep contempt real men felt for a faggot like it.

"Sir...it...it would drink your piss if you wanted it to sir," the faggot stammered, barely above a whisper.

"What was that? I couldn't hear the little bitch," Zack said

I jerked on its hair. "Louder, fuckhole. Tell these men what it needs."

The fag hesitated, turned a deep red all over, then finally blurted out, just as I'd taught it, a mixture of begging and yelling, "SIR, PLEASE LET IT DRINK YOUR PISS, SIR! IT NEEDS YOUR PISS IN IT, SIR!"

"Just his piss, needy faggot? What about me?" Scott asked.

"SIRS, PLEASE LET IT DRINK ALL OF YOUR PISS!"

I noticed a few tears rolling down the faggot's cheeks as we made it beg to be a urinal for these total strangers. Its first tears of the night, but certainly they wouldn't be the last.

"What is it, some kind of urinal?" Zack asked, a disgusted look on his face.

The fuckpig was silent, its mouth opening and closing without sound. I gave it another painful tug on its hair. "Yes sir," the faggot finally admitted, "it is a urinal for men like you."

"That's fucking disgusting, you know that, faggot? Not only allowing men to piss on you and inside you, but begging them to use you as a urinal. Even guys it just met, like us. Fucking sick faggot!" Zack said, shaking his head is mock disgust.

"What limits does it have, from me or any man?" I asked the faggot from behind.

It swallowed and blushed, another full body blush, as it felt another wave of shame washing over it, forced to admit such a thing in front of these strangers. "None, Master."

"So, I can use it any way I please? My buddies can do anything they want, no matter how twisted, how disgusting, how painful? Is that what it's telling us, cunt?" I demanded.

Another blush, deep red this time, the response almost a whisper, "Yes Master, please Master."

"What if I just want to hurt it? Maybe beat it some, really fuck it up and inflict some pain? What about that, bitch?" Zack inquired.

The pig started trembling, knowing that these men would not only hurt it, but would take great pleasure in seeing it suffer. As much as the little faggot needed cock and craved having me use it, it didn't like pain. Hated it, in fact. But, once again, I'd put it in a position where it had no choice but to beg for something it didn't want.

"Please sirs," the faggot begged, tears freely flowing down its young face, "please hurt this pig. Please abuse it and make it suffer if you want to."

Zack didn't need to be asked twice. Quick as a snake, he reached out and slapped the shit out of the cockpig, who had no opportunity to avoid the blow, since I was still holding its head in place by its fuck handle. I could tell Zack hit it hard enough to rattle the bitch's teeth. Before it could recover, Josh slapped it on the other cheek just as hard, knocking its head back in the other direction and eliciting a loud grunt from the faggot. It was panting, trying to breathe through the sudden pain. Obviously, the slaps were hard enough it couldn't do basic math, because it obviously wasn't expecting the blow which came next from Scott. The bodybuilder used one huge paw to whack it across the face hard enough to knock it to the ground despite my grip on its hair. I thought for a moment he'd knocked it out cold, but the faggot started crying and writhing in pain, so I knew it was okay.

I snapped my fingers to get the cockpig's attention. "Beers for everyone. Now," I ordered. Slowly, it pulled itself together and stood up, then walked into the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

"Nice looking piece of ass," Josh drawled, "but I don't see why you're letting it walk upright like that."

I smiled. I can always count on Josh to start some shit. "Well, you know where the equipment is. Feel free to correct its behavior," I challenged, knowing he was more than willing to rise to the bait. Josh hopped up and headed for the back room I used for faggot training, with Zack right on his heels, ready to get into the action. I could hardly wait to see what they brought back with them. By the time they both came back downstairs, the faggot was back with the beers and dutifully licking Scott's black dress shoes to a bright gleam. Zack was holding a thin, bamboo cane, a favorite of mine due to the way it whistled through the air just before striking flesh, as well as for the deep, thin, incredibly painful welts it left when wielded correctly. That thing hurt, and I could tell from the grin on Zack's face he knew just exactly how painful it would be.

Josh, however, is always more creative in his tortures. Rather than a whip or a cane, he brought back something far more insidious: a humbler. I hadn't gotten around to using it on the cockpig yet, but it was certainly about time. Josh borrowed the keys to the faggot's chastity cage from me, then unlocked and removed the device while Scott placed his other size 13 shoe on the back of the pig's head, forcing its face into the shoe it was licking and effectively pinning it in place while Josh installed the humbler.

The cockpig let out a loud groan into the top of Scott's shoe when Josh slide that cage off its drain. That was the first time it had been uncaged in months, and the first time its little drain could finally unfold and erect to its full size, such as it was. The other guys all laughed to see the faggot's little drain spring to attention. They started commenting on how small it was.

"Well, it didn't use to be quite so small," I explained. "I mean, it was never man-sized or anything, but that chastity cage is doing a good job of helping to shrink it. I looks a lot smaller than then I started training the faggot. I'm pretty pleased with the results so far."

"What's your plan?" Josh asked. "You gonna let the faggot keep that little nub as-is, or do it like that last one you had?"

"I haven't decided, really," I replied thoughtfully. "I'm sure I'll figure it out soon. Remodeling property is always a tough decision." That made everyone laugh.

Josh reached between the cockpig's spread legs and grabbed its balls, then secured them in the humbler. A humbler isn't complicated – it's two curved pieces of wood that clamp together like a vice to trap a slave's balls. The device has two adjustable bolts to allow you to control how tightly it clamps shut. The wood is curved to fit snugly against the back of a slave's thighs, right below its ass. It's called a humbler for a reason, of course: once it's clamped in place, the faggot can't get up off its knees, not unless it wants to jerk its balls clean off. Once that humbler is on it, the pig can't do anything but crawl, and every inch it crawls tortures its balls, using the movement of its own thighs to jerk, pull and crush those worthless little orbs. The humbler is a great training tool, combining both pain reinforcement and humiliation into one simple device.

I dug around in the table beside my chair and found a piece of string. I handed it to Josh. "Here," I said, "tie that bell around its drain. I was enjoying the music." That got another laugh.

Josh looped the string through the top of the tiny bell, then quickly tied the string around the stumpy shaft of the faggot's nub, right below the head, so that it dangled freely, sounding its chime each time the cockpig moved or its drain throbbed. Now that it was uncaged, the piggy's drain was rigid, despite its pain and humiliation...or more likely because of it.

The cockpig hated the humbler from the moment Josh locked it in place. I could tell, because as soon as he had it on the pig, Zack ordered it to show everyone how much it liked wearing it by crawling around like a good little animal. As soon as the faggot started moving, you could see the pain written across its cute young face. Every movement was torturing its nuts, swollen with months of pent-up cum, the movements of its own thighs providing the pain as it struggled to crawl around the room. Its suffering was compounded by Zack's liberal application of the cane to its ass cheeks, urging it forward, making it crawl faster and faster. At first, the faggot was moving slowly and carefully, trying to minimize the pain it was inflicting on itself with the humbler, but when Zack started bringing that thin bamboo cane down on its ass, the stupid cunt quickly realized the only way to avoid the fiery agony of Zack's strokes against its ass was to pick up its speed, increasing its own torment of its trapped nuts to the accompaniment of the little bell attached to its drain.

"C'mon pig... squeal for us," Zack demanded. "Wiggle that pig tail, fuckhole!" He brought the cane down again, hard, right across both the faggot's ass cheeks, and it squealed at the top of its lungs, sounding just like a real pig, lurching forward and almost falling flat on the floor, until the humbler threatened to rip off its balls as its legs straightened. Remarkably, the faggot learned its lesson quickly – while it might fall forward from a particularly cruel blow from Zack, with its upper body flat on the floor, it remained on its knees, that beautiful, smooth white ass in the air, offered up perfectly for more abuse. Zack drove the pig around the living room like that, making it grunt and squeal like a real pig, its little bell constantly ringing out a shameful tune, while we all laughed and Josh recorded it on his phone to show his friends later.

After a few minutes of this, the pig was near collapse from racing around the room on its hands and knees to avoid Zack's cane, so I directed it into the kitchen to fetch us more beers. Of course, since it needed its hands to crawl, that took it several trips, but we didn't mind. All the guys were enjoying looking at its sweet little ass wiggling the pig tail as it crawled around.

"Fuck, dude, you really did a number on the bitch's ass with that cane!" Scott remarked, impressed at Zack's handiwork and the cross-hatching of deep welts all across the pig's ass cheeks.

"Thanks, man. Been a while since I've had a faggot I could beat like that," Zack replied.

"Well, it's all yours, guys," I said, waving my hand magnanimously toward the fuckhole. "As long as there's no permanent damage, do what you will."

"Well, the first thing I'm gonna do is try out this bitch's holes. Which one should I start with?" Josh asked, unzipping his jeans.

"Hmm...I'd start with its front hole. It's reasonably talented with that one. Still needs training with the back hole, but you won't be disappointed. It's still almost virgin-tight, no matter how many times I core it out. Even keeping it plugged doesn't seem to make it loose," I replied.

Josh walked over to where the faggot was kneeling, trying to catch its breath, and shoved his semi-hard cock in its face. I was pleased to see that, despite the pain it was in, the cockpig's mouth immediately opened when presented with a man's cock, at this point an almost involuntary response to the presence of a penis. My training was clearly working, reshaping its feeble little faggot brain exactly the way I wanted it, turning it into a true slave for any cock presented to it.

Josh was quickly sawing his seven-inch cock into the faggot's throat, holding on to its fuck handle to control the movement of its head, occasionally burying his shaft all the way down its throat and trapping the pig's nose in his pubes, letting it get a good whiff of his crotch, probably still ripe from whatever construction job he'd been working earlier.

It didn't take Josh long to feed the faggot its first load of the evening. He twisted its fuck handle in his hand and shoved in to the hilt, shooting his load right into the back of the pig's throat. Once again, proving that my training of it was working, the faggot sucked out every drop of Josh's cum, then dutifully held his cock in its mouth, gently keeping it warm and wet, not sucking or licking, just holding it there, until Josh withdrew and stepped back.

"Thank you, sir!" it responded as soon as Josh's cock was out of its mouth. Josh slapped it across the face lightly and backed up, as Zack was already moving into place to try out the faggot's mouth for himself.

Zack is straight, so when we first met he was pretty uptight about using faggots. He loved using women, and had a couple of occasions where he went overboard and almost wound up in jail for abuse. Once I'd introduced him to the idea of a willing faggot slave he could use as roughly as he chose, he gradually began to thaw. At first, he was just into beatings and torture, giving his sadistic side a way of safe expression at a level most female bitches couldn't or wouldn't take. Every time I let him abuse one of my slaves, though, I could see that prominent bulge in the front of his pants get even bigger, threatening to rip the crotch right out of his jeans by the time he was done with his abuse. I'd finally convinced him to let one of the faggots suck him off, and that's all it took. He discovered he could not only inflict pain with his hands and feet, but also with his long, fat cock as well.

As soon as Josh moved, Zack grabbed the faggot's hair and roughly pulled its head into his bulging crotch, while at the same time bringing the cane down again, this time right in the crack of the pig's ass. It squealed loudly, right into Zack's denim-covered cock, the warmth of its breath and the keening of its suffering making his dick throb and swell even more. He dragged its face back and forth across the rough denim, making it drool all over the front of his pants, before he finally instructed it to unzip his jeans with its mouth. You should have seen the bitch struggling to get that zipper down, using only its tongue and lips. I couldn't tell if it was more desperate to get Zack's big dick in its mouth, or to avoid more blows from the cane. Either way, it soon managed to get his pants undone and was smacked in the face by Zack's erection as soon as it popped out of his jeans. The faggot obediently swallowed the entire thing, showing my guest exactly what it was good for, which pleased me. Zack is very arrogant, and he loves being worshiped, so he let the faggot impale its throat on his cock for a bit. Zack's cock is uncut, around eight and a half inches, and fat enough to completely fill his fist. He was obviously enjoying watching how the girth of his cock challenged the faggot, which was stretching its jaw as wide open as possible, desperate to avoid scraping his shaft with its teeth.

Ever the sadist, Zack began to fuck the faggot's mouth, deliberately bumping his crotch into the faggot with each thrust, forcing the pig backwards, which caused the humbler to torture its trapped nuts with every thrust of Zack's cock into its throat. Not content with that, Zack started using the cane again, enjoying the vibrations on his cock as the cockpig screamed from each blow. Zack showed the little pussyboy no mercy, ramming his meat down its throat while beating it with the bamboo cane, two very different rods torturing both ends of the faggot. It was pretty cruel, even by my standards. When Zack finally shot his load down the pig's throat and pulled out, the bitch collapsed to the floor face first, thumping his head against the hardwood. The face rape was so brutal, we all started clapping spontaneously at Zack's performance. The arrogant bastard grinned at us with his 10,000-watt smile, then took several bows, gloating both in his abuse of the cunt and our admiration, beaming with pleasure, his thick cock on display, shiny with the faggot's spit and still stiff as a board, ready to go again at any moment.

"You're up, Scott. Give this pig a good workout before the game starts," Zack said.

"Nah, not yet. I've got some other uses for it first," Scott replied, grinning. He ordered the faggot over to him, then put it to work licking the soles of his dress shoes clean, then licking his big feet and sucking on his toes, while we discussed the game about to start. Just as well, since the faggot probably needed a short break from the abuse to regain its strength. The thing I love most about these young fuckholes is that they recuperate quickly and have the stamina to take a lot of abuse. We were going to test those limits today, that was for sure.

After Scott's feet were clean, he shoved the cockpig over to Josh. I could see it recoil from the nasty work boots Josh was wearing, which were covered in dirt and grime. I'm not sure how long he'd had those boots, but they'd definitely seen better days. The cumdump was licking them, gently, trying to satisfy Josh without getting too much grime in its mouth, but Josh wasn't going to allow any slacking. He was savvy enough to spot a slacking slave.

"Hey Zack, hand me that cane, will ya?" he asked. Once Zack passed it over, Josh used it to encourage the faggot's tongue, whacking it on the ass and sides of its thighs, even its back, if it appeared to be doing less than its utmost best to clean his boots. The effect was immediate and remarkable. The cockpig started crying from the pain and humiliation, its tears aiding its tongue to clean Josh's boots of all that dirt, and no doubt also helping to wash some of that grime down its throat once its tongue was coated with construction dust. With the humbler locked on its nuts, the faggot couldn't even move its ass out of the way to avoid the blows without inflicting further pain on its swollen balls. Submit its ass for a beating, or flinch away and damn near tear its own balls off? A fitting dilemma for a cockpig if there ever was one.

It made me smile to just to watch.

I think I was right about Josh working before he came over, because when he finally allowed the faggot to remove his boots and socks, his feet smelled to high heaven. To its credit, the cockpig didn't try and slack off from cleaning his stinking feet, but immediately began licking all the sweat off his feet and from between his toes while we concentrated on the game. As bad as Josh's feet reeked, it must have been a disgusting job, but after all, that's what pigs are for. Yet, as the pig buried its face in Josh's stinking feet and licked the sweat from between his toes, the bell on the end of its drain rang constantly as its little nub throbbed with need.

During the first commercial break, Scott got up and excused himself, walking up to the back bedroom. When he returned, he was carrying a large dildo and the training box, which he slid onto the bolts I have mounted on the wall. I put them there when I first got the box, near the TV, so I could watch a faggot training its holes with the box during commercial breaks in whatever show I was enjoying. Scott loves that box, and even asked Ryan (my engineer buddy) to make one like it for him. Once it was attached to the wall, Scott mounted the dildo on the box and ordered the faggot to get the big rubber cock in its mouth. Once the faggot was sucking on the dildo, Scott set the timer. He must have set it for only a second or two, because the pig immediately squealed when it received its first jolt from not pressing its nose and lips to the box. While we all laughed, the faggot got busy trying to deep throat the huge dildo Scott had chosen. The cockpig finally managed to take it all, but not before several more painful shocks. Finally, the pig managed to set up a rhythm, taking it all then withdrawing, almost like a sword swallower, making the full length of the dildo disappear on each downstroke. Twin pools, one of saliva, one of precum, collected on the floor beneath the cockpig, its vigorous sucking driven as much by its need to avoid the shocks as its innate need to obey alpha males and worship cock.

Scott returned to the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table, watching the cockpig's efforts as if supervising an employee inclined to slack off.

"Dude, why you got it sucking on that dildo instead of your dick?" Zack asked. "Trust me, the faggot knows how to worship a cock!" He laughed, then high-fived Josh.

"Because I want to make sure it can swallow all of mine," Scott drawled, watching the cockpig take the dildo to the base. "I hate a faggot that can't take it all. The last bitch that tried and failed actually scraped a red mark on the top of my cock with its teeth."

"Oooh, fuck, man! What did you do?" Zack asked, cringing at the thought.

One corner of Scott's mouth turned up, a hint of a smile. "Let's just say that faggot won't have to worry about its front teeth getting in the way of cock sucking ever again."

"Good for you, Scott. I'm sure that was a lesson well learned for that bitch," I remarked.

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer not to have to repeat the lesson. Especially not on someone else's property. But from the looks of it, I don't think that's going to be an issue," Scott replied, taking careful note of the way the cockpig was desperately swallowing the entire length of the dildo.

A visible sheen of sweat had appeared all over the cockpig, the result of its constant effort to keep up with the timer on the devilish training box. I loved the box – it was like an extension of me, demanding grueling, precise performance and punishing even slight failure with pain. I love the fact that, instead of having to do the work of training the little cunt myself, it was simply automated for me, another way to make life easier through technology. Well...easier for me and other men, but far more unpleasant for faggots. Just as it should be, of course.

Finally, Scott rose from the couch and walked over to where the fag was urgently and repeatedly impaling its throat on the big dildo. He switched the box off just as the faggot reached the bottom of the dildo, the entire length buried inside it. He held its head there for a moment, waiting to see how long it took before the cockpig started to choke. I'd taught the little cocksucker well, though, and it managed almost a full minute with the big rubber cock deep in its throat before it began to gag. Even then, as it struggled for air and its guts started to heave, the cockpig knew better than to try and pull off the dildo, even if it had been able to overcome Scott holding its head in place. Finally, he let go, allowing the cockpig to slide about half the dildo out of its throat. It kept the rest of the dildo in its mouth, gasping around it, trying to catch its breath.

Scott grabbed the hair on the front of the fag's head, using it to pull the bitch completely off the dildo, then dragged its face into the crotch of his khaki slacks. The cockpig immediately began using its already-bruised lips to massage his cock through the fabric, moving further down Scott's leg as his bulge continued to grow. After letting the cockpig slobber on his slacks for a few minutes, Scott unzipped and hauled out his cock, then used it to slap the pussyboy across the face with an audible smack.

Some people will tell you bodybuilders tend to have small dicks, either because all the muscle development is a way to compensate for being underendowed, or as a result of too much steroid use. Either of these may be true in some cases, but not with Scott. His cock is as impressive as the rest of his muscles. It's a big, uncut club; thick, with a foreskin that completely covers the head, even when he's hard. I've had the pleasure of watching Scott using fuckholes before, and it's always an impressive sight. To see a man that big, simply stacked with muscle, pull something that formidable out of his pants and then effortlessly control the faggot he's using is not just hot as hell, its awe-inspiring.

The size difference between Scott and the cockpig was stark: the huge, muscular alpha male with the pale, small-framed, hairless faggot kneeling at his feet, worshiping the half-hard shaft hanging out of the man's pants. I caught a glimpse of the faggot's eyes, just for a second, and I could see both wonder at the size of the cock in its mouth, and fear – fear of how much bigger the growing pole would get; fear of what this man would do with it once it was fully erect.

Now that Josh and Zack had stretched out the cockpig's throat and it had spent some time fucking its face on the oversized dildo, Scott apparently decided it was ready to worship his cock properly. He was fully hard now, a nine-inch pillar of flesh he was rubbing all over the faggot's upturned face, occasionally beating the little cunt in the face with it, each blow leaving a shiny wet red mark.

The cockpig's knelt there with its mouth hanging open like some idiot, drool trickling down its chin as Scott beat its face with his cock, each blow reinforcing the differences between them: a real man with man-sized cock, and a worthless cockpig with a tiny little drain, on its knees, craving whatever abuse the man cared to give it. Scott finally pulled back his foreskin and laid the head of his cock on the pig's tongue, then pulled his foreskin over its tongue, enveloping it, forcing the bitch to clean underneath it, to massage his cock head with its tongue even as the faggot was swabbing it clean.

The cockpig had never looked as good as it did in that moment, kneeling there, sucking on a huge cock. I noticed the pig tail was moving almost in time with its tongue, the result of the faggot unconsciously clinching and relaxing its sphincter, trying to get whatever tiny bit of pleasure it could from the plug up its ass. This was the cockpig in its true natural element for the first time in its pitiful young life: naked, plugged, collared, totally exposed in front of a group of men that knew what it was and what it was good for. This was its purpose, its entire reason for existence. We knew it, and the cockpig was finally beginning to grasp the reality of what it was.

Scott pulled his cock out of the faggot's mouth. He took a step back, a long strand of its saliva still connecting its tongue to his cock. The pig was mesmerized, totally focused on the massive cock in front of it, as if that rope of spit was connected to its very soul, tying it completely to the alpha in front of it as surely as if it was any other beast of burden harnessed to its task. Scott backed up another step, the string of pig spit still not breaking the connection between them, making the faggot crawl forward, desperate for another taste of Scott's cock, desperate to display its need for dick.

When the fag crawled forward, Scott grabbed its fuck handle and twisted the hair in his hand, pulling its head forward onto his cock, burying his considerable length down the faggot's throat, holding its head in place as it quickly learned to accommodate the invader. Just as he'd done with the dildo moments before, Scott held the cunt's head all the way down on his cock, spearing its throat, just to see how long it would take before it started to gag. The cockpig was struggling to breathe around the mass of flesh, trying to get air into its lungs, its entire throat firmly plugged with Scott's big dick. We all watched as its face turned redder and redder, as it began to squirm and struggle futilely against the big man's grip, desperate not to choke to death on the cock buried inside it. Really, though, what more fitting end could there be for a cockpig, choking to death on a big alpha cock, knowing that its last, pathetic struggles and death spasms were simply adding enjoyment for a real man as he plugged its throat one last time? A fitting end, indeed.

But not tonight. Maybe someday, when the faggot was no longer of any other use, but definitely not tonight. The cockpig had many, many years of hard, brutal use ahead of it, with tonight merely being its coming out party, like a naked, collared debutante being introduced to a world of men who will find endless new ways to abuse and degrade it.

The cockpig was sputtering and spasming, genuinely choking on Scott's cock when he finally released his grip on its head and allowed it to slide back and gulp down some air. Once he was certain the little faggot wasn't about to pass out, he plunged his cock back down its throat and began slowly pistoning the entire length of his shaft down the faggot's throat, pulling out on each stroke until only the tip of his cock head was in its mouth, then ramming the entire thing inside it until the fuckpig's nose was buried in his pubic hair, its lips stretched thin about the base of his cock, his big balls banging forward on each downstroke to smack it in the chin. With each of Scott's thrusts, we could see the faggot's throat bulge as it was stretched by Scott's massive shaft, then contract as he slowly withdrew.

The sight of the cockpig's throat stretching each time Scott rammed his dick inside it was enough for me. I got up and moved behind the faggot and grabbed the pig tail sticking out of its asshole. I ripped out the attached butt plug, forcing a muffled squeal from the pig's plugged throat, which must have been a nice vibration on Scott's cock, as he let out a pleased groan. I pulled out my own cock and took aim at the fag's ass, the shoved in until my balls were slapping against the faggot's ass cheeks. With Josh and Zack calling out encouragement to us, Scott and I pounded both ends of the faggot, setting up a rhythm with each other. Most of the time we were opposite, so that I was shoving my cock up its ass as he was withdrawing from its throat, ensuring that the pig was continuously impaled in one end or the other. Several times I deliberately paused so that we both rammed our cocks home at the same time. From the way the faggot tensed and groaned, it must have felt like our dicks were going to touch deep inside it. It was filled with cock, just as it was born to be, and it totally surrendered to the penetration, concentrating only on providing maximum pleasure with both its holes, just as I'd taught it.

It didn't take long before I filled the faggot's ass with its first load of cum for the day. Shortly thereafter, Scott buried his cock down its throat and shot his load right into the pig's belly. As I pulled out of its ass, Scott withdrew about half of his cock from its mouth, then let out a long sigh as he started filling its mouth with his piss. He looked at me and grinned. "I figured it was thirsty after all that hard work," he laughed.

After Scott finished using my urinal, I walked around and had it clean my cock of any traces of its ass, then sat back down. Zack and Josh were apparently inspired by the show we put on, because they took our places, with Josh using the faggot's front hole, and Zack behind it, using his fat cock to stretch its rear hole.

Zack is such a fucking sadist. The double rape of the faggot's holes wasn't enough for him. He positioned himself so that with each thrust into the pussyboy's ass, he was also banging into its vulnerable balls trapped by the humbler. The first time he did it, the pig screamed into Josh's cock.

"Whoo hoo! Fuck yeah, man, that felt awesome! Do that shit again, Zack," Josh exclaimed.

Zack was more than happy to oblige. Each of his thrusts pounded the pig's guts on the inside, and its trapped balls on the outside. The pain was only half the problem the pig had, though. It also had to resist any inclination to close its teeth on Josh's cock as a result of the pain. Hospitality and respect for me aside, if the cockpig had bitten or scraped Josh's cock, I doubt even I could have saved its teeth. Josh would have surely knocked them out in a heartbeat. Not that it would have been a huge loss, of course. At that point, I'd already considered having some of its front teeth removed to better accommodate big cocks, though I'd rather they be removed by a dentist instead of an ex-con's fist.

My fuckhole was learning. The months of training I'd put it through up to this point were being tested, and I was pleased to see my hard work was paying off. The pig endured Zack's repeated bashing of its nuts just as it endured the double violation front and rear, eventually milking a load from each of them men with its respective orifices. Zack finished first, but remained buried in the faggot's asshole while Josh finished fucking its throat. I glanced at Zack, and saw he had his eyes closed with a look of concentration on his face which could only mean one thing: he was pissing up the faggot's ass.

As soon as he was done, Zack reached down and grabbed the plug off the floor, then slowly withdrew his cock from the faggot's ass, replacing it quickly with the butt plug. Josh was shooting his load just as Zack was sliding the plug into the faggot's cunt. Once Josh sat back down on the couch, Zack made the little ginger cunt clean his cock off, then plopped back down on the couch next to Josh and ordered the pig to lick his feet clean. I could see the fag was exhausted from the use so far, and chuckled to myself. It still had a long night ahead of it.

It was a good game. Obviously, we didn't spend the entire night abusing the cockpig. The guys came over to spend time together and watch the game, which was the focal point of the evening, of course. The faggot...well, it was just a passing amusement, a convenient hole to unload some cum into, a portable urinal, and a good object for relieving a bit of stress. It spent most of the game licking my guest's feet, or kneeling in front of them so they could rest their feet on its back until we needed more beers. All the guys enjoyed watching it crawl with the humbler on, its abused balls now swollen and angry-red, its pigtail wiggling back and forth as it crawled around to the sound of the little bell hanging from its drain.

We all know what happens when you drink beer, and the guys drank a lot of it. The cockpig drank a lot of piss that night from everyone except Zack. Zack loves beer, and he was putting some away, let me tell you. But he never made the faggot drink his piss like the other guys. Instead, each time he had to relieve himself, he'd feed the faggot his cock just long enough to get hard, then make it place its head on the ground with its ass up high. He'd carefully pull the plug from its asshole and shove the head of his cock in, adding a new bladderful of his piss to the load the faggot was already carrying in its guts. Eventually, there was enough you could actually hear Zack's piss sloshing around inside the cockpig's guts every time it moved. After a while, its belly began to look swollen, though whether that was from the amount of piss the other guys made it drink or what Zack put in its ass, I couldn't tell. Either way, I could see it becoming more and more uncomfortable as the cramps from Zack's repeated urine enemas racked its young body. The faggot was also contending with another problem as it knelt there with three sets of feet resting on its back: all that piss it had been fed was rapidly being processed through its body. Its bladder must have been about to burst from all that recycled beer. Between the cramps in its guts and the overwhelming need to piss, the faggot was beginning to squirm and gasp from the increasingly intense discomfort, not to mention wiggle around under the guy's feet.

Zack picked up the cane and brought it down hard against the side of the faggot's thigh. "Shut the fuck up with your stupid whimpering, bitch," he causally ordered it, his eyes on the game.

I suppose the sudden pain broke the ginger cunt's concentration. Holding all that piss inside it must have required a lot of effort. As soon as Zack hit it, the fag gasped from the pain and a shot of piss came out of its drain all over the floor.

"Fuck, dude, you made a mess!" Josh said to Zack.

"Aw, man, sorry about that," Zack said looking at me sheepishly, as if he'd committed some party foul and spilled his beer.

"No, no, relax, Zack. Totally not your fault," I reassured him. "It's this stupid faggot's fault for not being able to control itself better. If anything, I owe you guys an apology for its poor conduct. Apparently, its not even suitable to be a toilet. Obviously, it's going to need further training. But since we are coming up on halftime, I think that we should probably drain the bitch to avoid any more spillage. Zack, can you do me a favor and make sure that mess gets cleaned up, and teach it a lesson about keeping my floors clean?"

Zack's face lit up with that big grin of his, the one that made girls melt. "Hell yeah, man, happy to help," he beamed. "Faggot, clean that piss up."

As the bitch was licking its own piss off the floor under the supervision of Zack and the others, I excused myself and went down to the basement to the cockpig's cage. I often stored it in the cage when I needed it out of the way, or when it needed a good reminder that it was just subhuman property. Can't have it getting to comfortable or mistakenly thinking it was a person, or anything like that. Since this cage was used for more long-term storage (sometimes for a few days at a time), I'd supplied it with a large water bowl, the kind they use for big dogs. The bowl has a wide, flat base and a rubber bottom, so it's hard for dogs to overturn. Because it was a nice deep bowl, it was also suitable for caged cockpigs. I thought I was very generous to keep it supplied with plenty of liquid while it was caged. Sometimes, when I'm feeling especially nice, I even put actual water in the bowl.

I took the dog bowl upstairs in time to see Zack wielding the cane like a surgeon with a scalpel. The cockpig's entire ass was covered in welts, as well as the tops of its thighs. Tears were streaming down its face, both from the pain Zack was inflicting on it and the intense effort it was exerting to keep from pissing on the floor any further.

Zack stopped beating the bitch long enough to catch his breath, so I took the opportunity to slide its water bowl under the fag's drain. I snapped my fingers once to focus its attention.

"Drain," was all I said. The cockpig immediately began to piss into its water bowl while the guys laughed and commented on the fact that it least it could obey a few commands properly. It pissed for a long time, crying the entire time, though whether from pain, relief, or the humiliation of the men watching, I don't know. Doesn't matter really. Faggot tears are nothing but another form of lube. If the bitch is crying, you must be using it right.

"Zack, I think it's about done draining. Do you think you could help keep things neat by shaking its drain to get those last drops off?" I asked.

Zack grinned. "No problem, dude," he smirked, then adjusted his angle on the faggot's ass. Targeting the center of the humbler, he brought the bamboo cane down right on the fuckhole's nuts. It was hilarious! I swear that bitch levitated at least a foot off the ground, and let out a howl like you wouldn't believe, only to be drowned out by our laughter. It almost collapsed to the floor, but the humbler prevented it from doing so, with the cockpig managing to catch itself and keep its knees under it and its ass in the air just in the nick of time to keep the humbler from ripping its swollen balls off.

I looked at Zack, proud of the skill he'd displayed, and pointed at the pig tail. "Zack, you want to uncork the urinal and finish draining it?"

He didn't need to be asked twice. Zack loves being the center of attention, and I could tell he was enjoying showing off for the other guys. He used his foot to move the fag's water bowl until it was positioned near its ass, then grabbed the plug and pulled it out with one swift motion, causing a popping sound as he uncorked the pig.

I snapped my fingers again. "Squat and drain," I ordered. The bitch struggled to position itself above the bowl, straining not to leak any of Zack's piss on to the floor, then finally released its guts into the bowl, letting out a loud groan of relief as it filled the bowl, which provoked us to another round of laughter. By the time it was done, I had to admit, I was shocked at how much piss we'd poured into both ends of the cunt. That's a big water bowl, and it was filled almost to the top with recycled beer; some of it was double-piss, urine the faggot drank then filtered through its body and pissed again. The contents of the bowl were dark yellow, and I could see plenty of cum from the bitch's ass floating in it as well.

"Well, cunt?" I asked. "I know it isn't planning on leaving that in the middle of my floor. And it's definitely not going to waste the precious piss these men were nice enough to give it." I mean, really, I shouldn't have had to say even that. But the cockpig was still young and not fully trained at that point, so I was giving it some slack and being nice by directing it. With time, of course, it learned.

The little fuckhole was still crying when it lowered its head into dog bowl and starting slurping up all that filthy, disgusting piss and cum. I sure hope it savored the combined flavor of alpha male piss, cum, and its own ass, not to mention whatever flavor its own waste imparted. Of course, it didn't drink fast enough for Zack or Josh. Young guys can be so damn sadistic. I laughed as they made the cunt drink faster, not just lapping up the piss with its tongue like an animal, but actively slurping big mouthfuls of urine from the bowl. Zack wielded the cane against the bitch's ass, concentrating his blows on its ass crack and hole, now that the absence of the plug left them fully exposed. Josh was less creative; he just used his foot to occasionally kick the pig's trapped nuts. But I mean, who could blame him, really? The humbler made them such a perfect target, and after all, that's what they are put there for – to amuse men.

After the faggot emptied the bowl full of piss and cleaned up any remaining mess on the floor, Scott decided he wanted to try out its ass. The faggot was panting; the combination of pain and exhaustion were beginning to show on its face, but I had no intention of letting it rest, and neither did the guys. Scott used the pig's mouth to lube up his huge cock, then unceremoniously shoved into its ass. The faggot's face was priceless. I'm sure it felt like Scott was going to split it in two, and it even started to struggle a little, trying to escape the huge invader working its way up its ass. There was no chance of that, though. Scott clamped his big hands down on the fag's hips and simply held it in place as easily as he holds dumbbells in the gym. This bitch wasn't going anywhere until he was done using it, that was for sure. As he fucked it, Scott alternated his hands, using one to hold the cunt in place and the other to slap the pig's ass cheeks, already blistered and sore from Zack's cane. I can only image how that must have felt, having an arm that muscular and powerful coming down on top of those welts. Each time he hit the pig, it let out a strange, full-throated grunt, a sound I'd never heard it make before, accompanied by the tinkling of the bell tied around its nub. I'm quite sure it was a sound the faggot never thought it could make, until it had a big-dicked bodybuilder raping its asshole and beating it at the same time. We all found its grunting hilarious! Josh even pulled out his phone and recorded Scott fucking it, just so he could have the sound the pig was making.

"That grunt's gonna be my new text notification sound," he grinned. He and Zack high-fived.

Scott was brutal. He rammed the cockpig mercilessly, giving it every inch of his huge cock, using the full power of his arms to beat its ass. I could see its cheeks beginning to bruise from his blows. After a long while, Scott finally pulled the fuckhole all the way back on to his dick and shot his load deep inside it, giving a satisfied grunt as he did so.

"Good timing Scott," I remarked. "The game is back on."

Scott pulled out of the fag's ass and presented his cock for cleaning, then returned to his chair. I figured this was a good time to give the pig a little respite, so I reattached the dildo to the training box and installed the pig with the dildo down its throat. In order to let it rest at least a little bit, I set the timer to a generous 45 seconds, so that it could practice long, slow sucking strokes.

I know some people at this point probably think I should have shown mercy; removed the humbler, perhaps let the faggot have a nice long rest in its cage for a while. I mean, after all, it had experienced a lot of abuse already for one day. Surely, at this point I should let it rest and recuperate? No. That may be the natural inclination, but trust me, that's not what faggots, and especially cockpigs, need. What it needed wasn't rest – it needed more use, more training, more abuse at the hands of me and my buds, all focused on making it better at its one purpose in life: serving real men. To give it mercy at this point would simply undo months of training, not to mention create a false impression in its feeble brain that it deserved mercy from men, and that men were likely to give it mercy, to coddle it. No. It had to learn. And there is only one way faggots learn, and that's the hard way.

So, I let it "rest" on the training box, slowly deep throating the dildo while we watched the rest of the game, except for whenever one of us needed to piss, or needed more beer. Eventually, of course, the game was over, and we turned our attention back to the cockpig. I had something special in store as a surprise for the guys. A little "motivator" to ensure the faggot moved past the training plateau where it was stuck.

One thing I learned very early on with this particular cockpig: it was deeply shy. Shy about being seen naked, shy about being exposed as a faggot, shy about anyone knowing the depths of its twisted desires, especially its need to serve and obey at any price. So, of course, I made it my mission to exploit that weakness every chance I got. I'd have been hard pressed to guess which was more painful for the faggot – being seen and recognized by these men as the depraved little fuckhole it was, or the cane Zack wielded so cruelly. The thing that made it even worse, of course, was the fact that its tiny, useless drain was hard as a rock throughout; not in spite of the pain and humiliation, but as a direct result of it, causing the hateful little bell tied to it to tinkle repeatedly, drawing attention over and over again to its shame.

So, my special little show for tonight was going to degrade the pig even further, not to mention fuck with its head in ways it couldn't begin to imagine. Now that the game was done, I ordered the fag off the dildo and instructed it to clear off the coffee table while I retrieved a surprise from upstairs.

When I came back down, all eyes were on me expect the pig's. It knew better, of course. I produced my surprise for my guests: a small carved box. I opened it to reveal two dice, large ones. They were antiques, made of ivory and hand carved. I'd picked them up years ago on a trip to India, and kept them for special occasions. I walked over and stood behind the faggot where it knelt on the floor.

"Gentlemen, this is a special night for the cockpig. You asked earlier, Josh, if I planned to let it keep its little drain or not. Like I said, I haven't decided yet. One thing is for certain, though: it won't be allowed to cum like it has in the past. The chastity cage has done a good job of getting it used to living with full balls, but I think at some point I'll want a more...permanent...solution of some sort. What that is remains to be seen, of course. But I'm mindful of the old saying, `You don't know what you've got until it's gone,' so I though you guys might enjoy being a part of a very special moment in the cockpig's life." I lifted my foot and extended it between the bitch's legs, pulling its rigid little nub backwards, the releasing it to slap forward, ringing the bell and provoking laughter from the guys, and a deep shameful blush from the pig.

I set the box with the dice down on the coffee table, and snapped my fingers in front of the cunt.

"How long since it was last allowed to cum?" I asked. This was an important part of its training, keeping count of the days since it was allowed an orgasm. It really fucked with the faggot's head, since it reinforced its total lack of control over its own body, its complete subjugation to my will. I'd warned it early on: if I ever asked how long it had been and it couldn't immediately give me a precise answer, it would never cum again. If emptying its balls wasn't important to the faggot, why should such a thing matter to anyone else?

"One hundred sixty-three days, Sir," it replied immediately. Did I see a small glint of hope in its eyes? Hope that, perhaps, just maybe, it might finally be allowed to shoot its load, to experience some tiny bit of pleasure for a change?

"Faggots, slaves, cockpigs...they don't need sexual pleasure. They don't deserve it. Those are things for men to enjoy. I could just lock that cage on its drain and leave it there forever. But I'm nicer than that, cockpig. I'm going to give it a reward, since it has come so far in its training in such a short period of time. I'm going to allow it to cum, not just now, but in the future, of course. Now, obviously, that can't be unrestricted or even unsupervised. That would be inappropriate. And I think faggots function best with clearly defined boundaries and rules. So, here's the deal, pissbreath: I'm going to let it roll these dice. Whatever number it gets, that's the number of orgasms it has left for the rest of its life. Once they are gone, they're gone. Forever. Understand, cumdump?"

The fear in its eyes was profound. It opened its mouth to speak, stunned at the cruelty of my order, but all that came out was a barely audible whisper. It was shaking as the full impact of my decree began working its way through the faggot's little brain.

"Speak up, bitch. Does it understand what I'm saying and what it's rolling for?"

"Ye...Yes, Master," it finally stammered, tears beginning to roll down its cheeks, a sign it was fully grasping the import of what was about to happen. Good.

"Pick up the dice, then, fuckhole. Pray for sixes," I smirked. The other guys laughed at that.

The pig took the dice out of the box carefully, rolling them around in its hand, its eyes closed as if it couldn't stand to see the results of its throw. Summoning its courage, the bitch rolled the dice across the coffee table, then slowly opened its eyes as they came to rest.

A one and a two. The guys let out a collective "Ooooh" when they saw the results.

Three. Three orgasms were all the faggot had left for the rest of its life. It knew my will didn't bend, and it had learned not to expect any mercy from me. I looked it in the eye to let it know that yes, this was absolutely for real, and that, somehow, after it came a third time, I'd ensure it never did again.

Its tears flowed harder. The pending loss, the crushing weight of such a fate hanging over its head like the sword of Damocles, having no control over when, where, or how its last three orgasms occurred, was like a knife in its gut. And at the same time, as its tears were rolling down its cheeks, the bell attached to its drain was ringing nonstop from its throbbing little erection.

I turned to my guests. "So, guys, that's my special entertainment for you this evening: the cockpigs first orgasm in six months, as well as one of its last. And I leave it to you gentlemen to decide how that will happen. What would amuse you the most?"

Zack spoke up first, grinning, "Oh man, I've got just the thing. Time for you to open your little `slave-warming' gift." He retrieved the box he'd brought from the corner where I'd placed it, and handed to me. I had no idea what might be in the box, but, knowing Zack, it was going to be something delightfully evil.

I popped open the end of the box and immediately recognized what was inside, something I'd never bought but which fascinated me. Rather than removing it myself, I placed the box on the coffee table in front of the cockpig, which was just managing to get its tears under control.

"Open that and pull out the nice gift Zack brought it," I ordered.

The faggot finished opening the box with trembling hands, scared of whatever "gift" it might contain. It stared dumbly at the contents once the box was open, as if its mind couldn't comprehend what it was seeing. Scott and Josh started to hoot and gasp at what was displayed before them.

"I found it on one of those specialty sites," Zack explained. "They make all kind of bizarre shit, but they specialize in wild and exotic dildos. I know how much you enjoyed that dog dildo you told me about, so I knew you'd love this. Supposedly, they cast a real horse cock in plastic or something, then made dildos from that mold. So, this is totally authentic - size, shape, everything. Gonna be just like the faggot is getting fucked by a real horse, minus the smell of horseshit, of course."

The device on the coffee table was a silicone nightmare, enough to take away the breath of anyone who looked at it. It was 24 inches long, according to the box insert, with a 15-inch shaft, and a bulbous head that was 8 inches in circumference. It was at least as long as the faggot's arm, and the shape, while definitely phallic, was strange enough to immediately register as non-human, a real stallion's cock. It was enough to inspire awe in all of us except the cockpig, where it merely inspired terror. Its pale skin grew even whiter as it gazed at the mottled black and tan monstrosity laying in front of it, knowing that it was impossible that such a thing would fit inside it; while, at the same time, fully cognizant of the fact that the impossible was going to happen somehow. It would soon not just be impaled on this silicone horse's cock, but worse, it would be impaled in front of an audience.

I leaned over and picked up the giant dildo, amazed by the weight of the thing. The shaft near the base was too thick for my hand to completely close around it, and the molded balls at the base were heavy, adding stability to the long shaft. It had a large suction cup attached to the bottom, which I used to affix it to the middle of the coffee table where it stuck up like an angry arm.

"Well, cunt? Don't just sit there in awe. Get that ass on the coffee table and start getting acquainted with its new gift. I'd start getting it wet unless it wants to take that monster dry," I told the faggot.

It started struggling to climb onto the coffee table, but the humbler prevented it from maneuvering properly. I reached over and unscrewed the bolts and removed it, allowing its nuts to finally swing free, eliciting a gasp of relief from the cockpig. Its relief was short-lived though, as I swatted it on its blistered ass in order to get it moving. Slowly, the cockpig climbed up on the coffee table, fully aware it was now truly on stage, displayed as the center of attention to all in the room as it began licking up and down the giant horse's cock. I find there is no better way to throw fear into a cunt than making it lick a huge dildo or butt plug. Sure, it can see how big the thing is, even feel its size and weight, but nothing brings home the real size of the thing about to get shoved up its tight little ass quite like having to lick and suck it, knowing that anything it can't comfortably fit in its mouth is going to be an even greater agony sliding inside its asshole.

The bitch was desperately licking the huge molded head of the dildo, hoping to at least ease the passage of it into its brutalized ass, already stretched from its earlier use. No doubt both Scott and Zack had thoroughly stretched its hole with their cocks earlier, as well as beaten its guts up pretty good. As much as I love to fuck a faggot's hole after its nice and sore inside, there was nothing quite like the fun of aggravating those deep internal bruises with a huge plug or dildo. The torment for a cockpig is almost unearthly, a deep ache that lasts long after whatever device you use is removed. This beast cock in front of us would multiply that effect by at least a factor of ten.

There was no way, of course, the cockpig would be able to take something that size with just spit to lubricate it, but I let it think that was its fate for a while, just because it was hilarious to watch it frantically slobbering all over that giant pole, desperate to lube it enough to ease the dildo's passage into its ass. Of course, the guys were having a great time watching and catcalling the pig as it crawled around in the table, trying to lick every inch of the dildo.

"Over here, pussyboy, it missed a spot," Josh ordered, pointing to a place on the opposite side of the dildo, forcing the pig to crawl and twist its already sore body in order to lick the spot he was pointing to.

Zack, on the other hand, chose to stand behind the bitch with the cane, urging it to lick faster with well-placed swats against its ass, aggravating the welts he'd already raised and creating new ones at the same time. Each time he struck, the faggot's tongue went into overdrive until it had to stop and work up some more spit, at which time Zack would bring the cane down again with sharp crack.

"I can't wait to see it take the head of that thing. That's going to hurt like hell," Scott remarked. A horse's cock is shaped differently from a human penis. The dildo had a large head sticking out of a sheath, just like a real horse. But this sheath wasn't made of soft, movable horseflesh, but instead of semi-firm silicone, meaning that the sheath formed a ring around the base of the head, a thick ring that would be a nightmare for the faggot to get into its ass, and a true horror once it was in there.

I went upstairs and grabbed a container of lube I reserve for heavy ass play, and brought it down to the living room. I placed it on the coffee table next to the pig, which showed relief on its face for just a moment, thankful I wasn't going to make it take this pole with just spit. Then, however, it dawned on the dumb bitch what that container of lube meant: this was not only really happening, it was going to start in just a few seconds, as soon as it got the dildo slicked up and ready.

On my command, the faggot began smearing the lube all over the dildo, looking just like it was jacking off a horse as its small hands tried to encircle the shaft. That's when the tears started again, its bottom lip quivering as the image in its mind of what was about to happen began to solidify, the feel of the thick shaft in its hands causing panic to set in as it visualized what it was stroking buried inside its fundament, spreading it and impaling it. I made the fag crawl around on the table as it slicked up the dildo, so that everyone had a good view of both its face and its ass at different times. When its ass was pointed at me, I reach out and spread its ass cheeks, making sure to roughly massage the welts Zack's cane had left, causing the faggot to gasp and sob. Sure enough, just as I'd suspected, its asshole was spasming as it stroked the dildo, the hole gaping open both from the brutal fucking it had received from Scott, Zack and me, and from its mental conditioning, which caused its hole to dilate any time it was presented with a cock of any type, real of artificial. I knew the faggot was trying to will its hole closed, its fear and shame making it want to withdraw into itself, but its innate need to serve men and my training were both too much, and so, despite its efforts, its hole stayed open, ready for more penetration, just as it should be.

"Enough, pig. Time to get that horse cock inside it before we get bored," I said.

The pig stood up on the coffee table, wiggling around until it finally got the massive head positioned against its hole, then began to ease itself onto the dildo as slowly as possible, with lots of gasps and sobs as its already-tender hole was raped by the silicone monstrosity. It had to wiggle its pretty, bruised ass a lot in an effort to get the head and ring inside its sphincter. It looked like it was trying to shove a baseball up its ass, though instead of being nice and round, the ring of the sheath was actually curved up slightly, like a real foreskin, which meant it was scraping the walls of the faggot's ass with each movement. For the first time, the faggot's drain was completely limp and practically retracted into its body from the pain in its hole.

Almost ten minutes after it had started, the faggot had managed to just get the head of the dildo inside it. Clearly, this wasn't acceptable, so I decided we needed to hurry things along a bit. I opened the drawer of the table next to my chair, where I keep a number of faggot training devices handy. I pulled out a pair of tit clamps, heavy ones with a thick chain on them which gives them weight. The clamps are very cruel, basically large alligator clips with teeth.

"Here, Josh," I said, handing the tit clamps to him, "do the honors and decorate the faggot, will you please?"

Josh loved those clamps, which is exactly why I gave them to him. He took them and reached up to where the faggot was precariously balanced on the head of the dildo, trying to force itself past the pain to take more before I got irritated. Josh grabbed first one of its tender little tits, then the other, and began twisting and pinching them. As much as my pig has always hated having its ass used, its tits were a different matter, connected directly to its tiny little drain. It didn't take long before Josh's efforts resulted in it sliding slightly further down the shaft of the dildo, as well as its drain expanding back to its full length, looking like a pale, miniature version of a cock, the humiliating little bell ringing with each excited throb. Finally, Josh placed the clamps on its tits, making sure they were secure, each clamp causing the faggot to actually squeal as Josh let it snap closed on the faggot's tender nipple. The teeth and pressure of those particular clamps are bad, but what makes them really evil is the chain that connects them. Its weight drags the clamps (and the fag's tits) down, and every movement causes the chain to swing, creating a constant torment as the chain continually moves the clamps, making them bite harder into the faggot's delicate flesh.

"Time to really see what this bitch can do," I declared. "Josh, Zack, if you guys don't mind, how about helping this pathetic cunt out some. Otherwise, we are likely to be here all day, and I'm sure we all have better things to do that watch some disgusting cockpig pleasure itself on a horse cock."

Zack and Josh, of course, were more than happy to oblige, the little sadists. The stood on each side of the faggot and grabbed its ankles. I could see the faggot was about to resist, its weight on the balls of its feet, trying to prevent further impalement on the dildo. That wasn't about to stop the boys. Josh simply reached up and slapped its sore, swollen nuts long enough to distract it, then he and Zack lifted its feet off the table, placing all its weight on the dildo.

Let me tell you, it's a good thing I have a bit of land and the neighbors aren't right on top of me. You could have heard that fag scream for miles as its own weight caused it to slide down that dildo, the massive shaft burying itself inch after inch inside the cockpig's guts. By the time that cruel, bulbous head and ring entered its second sphincter and lodged there deep inside it, the faggot was beyond begging, beyond making sounds even. It hung there, like a bug pinned to a card, helplessly impaled on about a foot of horse cock. I knew there was no way it would be able to take the entire length. As much as I'd like to see that, I didn't want to rupture my property before it was fully trained, so I motioned for the guys to release its legs. They placed its feet beneath it, so that the cunt was now crouching on the coffee table, almost half of the huge pole inside it, the clamps bumping around with each squirm or wiggle.

I allowed it a moment or two to catch its breath, while I explained what it was going to do. I had to slap its face a few times to get it to focus on me. "Listen, cunt. It has exactly three orgasms left for the rest of its life. I'm going to be generous and allow it to have one of them tonight, right now, as entertainment for our guests. I expect it to ride that horse cock and fuck the cum out of itself, since that's the only way it will be allowed to get off in the near future. Of course, it's going to be painful as hell, but it needs to get used to that. It will never again get to cum pain-free, faggot. Its last three orgasms will be painful, the way faggots deserve. Of course, there's the possibility, I suppose, that the pain will be too much and it won't be able to cum, but that's not a big concern. If it can't empty its pathetic little nuts in the next five minutes, I'll just consider that a forfeit, and it will lose one of those three remaining orgasms forever. And who knows when it will get this opportunity again," I said, starting deep into the bitch's eyes. "I might let it try again tomorrow with some other torture, or it might not get another chance to cum for a year or more. Now, get busy, faggot. These men want to be entertained," I smiled cruelly.

It was quite a sight, let me tell you: the little ginger faggot, its face twisted with a combination of pain, fear, and undisguised need, sliding its body up and down that huge dildo, the head of it scraping its delicate anal walls with each motion, the tit clamps acting as a constant separate torment.

"It'll never make it," Scott remarked. "It's going to suffer for nothing, and lose an orgasm. Just watch." He sounded like he was not only confident in his prediction, but as if that would ultimately be the most satisfying outcome from his viewpoint.

Zack shook his head. "Nah, it'll cum. Bet ya."

"Ok, twenty bucks," Scott said, pulling a bill out of his wallet. "Twenty says the cunt doesn't cum before the time limit."

Zack grinned, and told Josh to keep time as he threw a twenty down on top of Scott's money. He picked up the cane and stood up, walking around behind the faggot, which was struggling to fuck itself on the dildo.

"C'mon pig, I've got money on the line. Take that dick like a good little fuckhole!" Zack said. Before the faggot could react, the cane was whistling as it cut through the air, landing across both of its stretched ass cheeks. The pig made a high, keening wail of pain as the blow caused it to lose its balance and slide further down the pole. Zack began calling encouragement to the faggot the way you would urge on a racehorse you'd placed a bet on at the track, using the cane to force the faggot to fuck itself faster and faster, to rape its own hole deeper and more completely as entertainment for us.

"Two minutes left," Josh called out, a grin on his face. Regardless of how this show ended, he was enjoying watching it. Zack continued to whack the pussyboy, forcing it to slide up and down on the rubber cock faster and faster, the little bell tied to the head of its drain ringing shamefully in time with its movements. I could see from the pig's face it was almost there, right on the edge of the orgasm it had been needing, craving, begging for during the last six months, only to be repeatedly denied. Its need was written there for all of us to see; raw, desperate need, which could only be satisfied by torturing and degrading itself in front of us, making us laugh at its predicament. And laugh we all did at its pathetic attempts to reach the height of pleasure despite its torment, or perhaps because of it.

"One minute," Josh intoned.

"Fuck this," Zack sighed, exasperated. "I'm not losing this damn bet!" He jumped up on to the coffee table next to the faggot, and grabbed its fuck handle in his hand. With his other hand, he fished out his erection. He shoved the faggot's head down on his fat, uncut cock, and quickly fed the bitch the entire length, so that the fuckboy was completely plugged in both ends.

Zack began pounding his cock into the faggot's mouth while he pulled on the chain connected to the tit clamps, tugging on the fag's nipples, twisting the chain between his fingers until the bitch's tits were pulled well away from its chest.

"Ten seconds!" Josh called. He began a countdown. "Nine, eight..."

At five seconds, Zack was panting from fucking the fag's mouth. He grabbed the chain attached to the clamps in his fist and jerked hard, snatching the cruel clamps off the faggot's tits in one motion, causing the pig to scream as best it could with his cock deep in its throat. Zack let out a loud groan and dumped his final load of the night right into the faggot's throat. The combined pain from its tits and the throbbing of Zack's ejaculation was more than the cockpig could handle. Just as Josh was finishing his countdown, it let out another scream muffled by Zack's cock, and six months' worth of disgusting fag scum shot out of its little drain. Rope after rope of cum flew out, some even hitting the far wall. All of us started laughing and hooting at the sight. Zack, with a smug grin, pull his cock out of the pig's mouth and picked up the money he'd won.

"Told ya," he said, tucking his dick back in his pants.

I looked at the cockpig. It was spent, utterly exhausted, still impaled on the horse cock but almost passed out from the power of its orgasm. The boys had used the faggot hard. It was covered with welts and bruises, and reeked of cum, sweat, and piss.

I snapped my fingers to bring it back from where ever its cum-soaked little mind was wandering. "Don't just sit there resting, faggot. Clean this mess up. Now!"

Slowly, painfully, the cockpig started to extricate itself from the giant dildo buried deep inside it. After all it had been through, its legs were rubbery as it pushed itself up and inch after impossible inch of the horse cock slid out of its ass. As impressive and humorous as it had been to watch it going inside the faggot, seeing the length of it coming out was even more unbelievable. Finally, with a loud groan, the bitch pulled itself off the last inch, the ring along the head of the dildo making one last, painful scrape of its guts as it popped out of the fag's sphincter. The faggot collapsed onto the coffee table while the massive, inhuman phallus remained standing, forever erect, forever ready to turn a pig inside out just to amuse some bored guys.

Painfully, the faggot crawled down off the coffee table and began licking up the copious amounts of its cum, including crawling over to the wall and licking the wall clean, removing any trace of its shameful, disgusting orgasm so as not to offend the men in the room. I was pleased to see I'd trained it well – without being told, it even licked the giant dildo clean, leaving it spotless and slick with its spit.

I picked up the faggot's chastity cage and quickly reinstalled it on the pig's drain. It whimpered a little bit, but clearly accepted this as a part of its new life now.

"Cage," I said with a wave of my hand, dismissing it. It would be nearly useless the rest of the night after what it had been through. The faggot gratefully crawled out of the room and downstairs, where it obediently locked itself in its cage just as the guys were saying their goodbyes.

After the guys left, I walked downstairs to take a look at the cockpig. It was already passed out from exhaustion, curled up in its cage like a good little beast. As I surveyed the marks covering its back, ass, and legs, I began to contemplate how far it had come in such a short time, and knew, right then, it was time for some more serious "remodeling and customization" of my new property.

Thank you to all who have written to me with feedback about this story! Your interest inspires me.

Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com