Jason was a young faggot who had read one of my stories and wrote to me

that he wanted to be my slave. Well, men, my experiences with faggots

writing to me based on my stories have not been very satisfying. Most of

these queers seem to end up being flakes or frauds of one sort or another.

Maybe it's just the kind of person who reads authoritarian stories, or

maybe it's in the nature of faggots to be flakey. In any case, I've

learned to take such e-mails with a grain of salt and not waste much time

on them.

I'm much more confident of finding a slave with real potential through

face-to-face encounters. Before the faggot-shit Jason, I had met my two

bottoms through casual encounters. One faggot was a handsome young man I

knew from the office and the other one had done some gardening for me when

the shithead needed to earn some extra money.

It's funny how submissive faggots think they can hide what they really are

from the world. A real man like me, though, can smell from a mile away the

unique combination of FEAR and SEXUAL YEARNING a faggot naturally gives off

-- just like a wolf uses its heightened sense of smell to track, and then

devour, a vulnerable sheep. It's just classic predator-prey behavior,


Yep, I can smell the fearful yearning even of young faggots who think of

themselves as 'straight.' My gardening kid already knew he was a faggot,

although it took me a single, several-hour private session employing

alcohol and a light application of my thick, black leather belt for the

queer to understand and accept that her real purpose in life was to serve


The kid from the office, however, was another story. The handsome young

man had a girlfriend who I knew for a fact he was fucking. (I knew because

the girl's dad and I were friends and he wasn't happy about it.) Even with

that boybitch, though, it didn't take me very long to harshly drain all of

the 'straight' right out of the motherfucker, exposing the soft, weak,

faggoty woman that the asshole really was on the inside. Yeah, man, it was

a real revelation to that shithead to learn that her one and true purpose

of Earth was to serve a real man in any way he demanded. Once I forced the

cunt to say out loud what she was, though, there was no turning back. She

became a bitch devoted to my twisted needs and desires from that moment on.

('His' girlfriend never got the boy's oversized clit inside her again.

They broke up angrily two weeks later. The boy could no longer get it up

with her, and she accused him of having found himself a new cunt to fuck.

Stupid bitch. Far from finding himself a new cunt to fuck, I TRANSFORMED

THE BOY INTO A NEW CUNT TO BE FUCKED. And with my firm, relentless and

expert training, quite an eager, submissive and devoted cunt she has

become, dudes. That young whore does not feel complete unless my thick,

hard cock is roughly forcing open one of her tight, but eager, girl holes.)

Anyway, dudes, the specific stories about how I enslaved those two other

bitches is for another time. The point I want to emphasize here is that I

can SMELL the fear and sexual yearning these sick, twisted bastards give

off. The ones that already know they're faggots are the easiest. They are

naturally quiet and respectful around me. At the office, they are the ones

who immediately, eagerly and fully comply with my requests and demands,

whether it's for another cup of coffee, getting me my lunch or running

personal errands for me. Yeah, these motherfuckers ooze submissiveness

from their queer pores, whether or not they themselves can fully recognize

it. Sometimes it's all I can do to keep from laughing out loud when I see

how eagerly these faggots fall over themselves to please me. Bending weak

faggots like these to my will is like picking soft, low-hanging fruit from

the tree -- or maybe I should say like picking 'fruits,' which is what

these queers are, dudes!

My real talent is in ferreting out the submissive queerness in the guys who

think of themselves as straight and who to everyone else appear completely

straight. I've encountered many such guys over the years, including at the

gym, at the office and on the sports teams I coach. Even someone as

articulate as me (yeah, you whoreboys out there, I'm smart AND hot, so just

deal with it, bitches) can't explain fully how I can spot the 'inner queer'

in these otherwise masculine, straight-acting boys. I guess it's just the

instinct of a real man -- like how I can tell from looking at one of these

boys' cars whether he's trying just a little too hard to come off as macho.

I have developed a standard test for these guys. I wait until the two of

us are alone somewhere (dugout, wrestling mat, lockerroom, my office, etc.)

and the kid starts boasting to me (as they inevitably do) about some macho

thing the asshole claims he has done (usually involving drinking, driving,

girls or some combination thereof). Once the excited asshole really gets

going with his stupid-ass story, I adopt a stern, disapproving look on my

face and just stare coldly down at the motherfucker. Jeez, man, the ones

with the inner queerness always SHUT THE FUCK UP -- sometimes right in the

middle of a boastful sentence! The confirmation comes when their faces

flush red in embarrassment and they turn their gaze to the fuckin' floor.

It is so very fuckin' sweet, dudes, I can almost taste it right now.

Seeing this submissive response from a hot young jock to my very presence

invariably makes my demanding monster of a dick expand and harden in my

jockstrap until it's like some fuckin' dangerous sex criminal trying madly

to break out of its cotton prison in order to force itself inside some

tight bitch.

Dudes, I've trained enough of these straight-acting motherfuckers to find

out from them later that they themselves did not understand at the time

what was happening to them. They always describe a sudden rush of intense

embarrassment coursing through their heads and bodies. I like to describe

this phenomenon as the 'deer in the headlights' syndrome, since that seems

to best capture it. At some deep level of their being, these closeted

queers realize that a life-changing event has been thrust upon them, but

they can neither understand it nor get their minds or bodies to fight it.

They are fuckin' immobilized, just like a deer in the headlights of a car.

In these instances, I like to seal the deal by savoring the kid's

embarrassment for several seconds before giving the newly confirmed bitch a

very simple instruction, like fetching me my gym bag or a sports drink.

These kids tell me later those several seconds of waiting feel like an

eternity to them. Even if their minds are racing with thoughts of getting

the fuck away from me, their bodies refuse to comply with the instruction.

An important part of my training of these boywhores is to force them later

to re-live the crushing embarrassment of these early, formative

experiences. Getting them to describe exactly how they felt -- even if

doing so requires a determined application or two of my leather belt to

their tender asses -- fully engrains in their weak, inferior minds what

pathetic bitches they are and that their salvation can come only through

total and selfless devotion to the demands and whims of a real man like me.

It's fuckin' beautiful, dudes!

Anyway, to get back to the faggot Jason, another problem with him was that

he was too young and he claimed to be a virgin. In my experience, young

faggots who think they want to be a slave to a real man don't really

understand what it entails. They have some fuckin' stupid queer fantasy

about being broken and enslaved to a real man, but aren't actually ready

for the real thing. Young queers usually need to go through a variety of

sexual and psychological stages before they are ready for true training as

a boybitch. I don't really like to waste my time before then. Dudes, have

ever tried to administer a whipping on a young queer of this type? Jeez,

man, all it takes is two or three hard slaps of my leather belt on the soft

asses of one of these young, inexperienced faggots for the bitch to be

crying for mercy and saying how she never understood what true enslavement

entails. (Like all good Masters, dudes, I never bind and gag one of my new

bitches until I know she can take the pain I intend to dish out to her.)

Yet, although this boy Jason claimed to be young and inexperienced, I

picked up on something different in him. Something that made me think that

maybe -- just maybe -- this eager-sounding young faggot might be suitable

for the kind of intense and live-changing bitch training that was my

specialty. The fuckin' cunt didn't disappoint, dudes.

To Be Continued...


Pete Smith

[email protected]


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