It Takes a Village

Marshall, the rugged Asian American jock, was somehow shyer about his need to dominate than Aiden was about his need to submit. Marshall showed me some of his saved porn which was heavy on bondage, dehumanization, pup, and total power exchange. He admitted that his real life experience with kink, beyond being a strict top, was limited as he had always prioritized his directing career or thought his fantasies were too extreme for most boys. I reassured him that fags like Aiden needed exactly what he wanted to prescribe and that they searched far and wide for men like us who deserved their submission. 

When I first confronted Aiden about his cage and kinks, he confessed he had always fantasized about being used by multiple doms. I often teased him about the roommates discovering his subservience and his reaction was always one of tortured desire. For him, it would be the best and worst thing to ever happen. I was confident that Aiden would take Marshall stumbling upon his midnight escapades as a naked pup in stride, especially as he was currently in the horniest state he had ever been in his life and I was training him to become more used to exhibiting himself. I discussed my plans for Aiden with Marshall. We agreed he was a natural sub who would either flourish with strong guidance from men or flounder if left to navigate the complexities of his needs by himself. 

So, Marshall and I waited for Aiden to arrive back from his Starbucks job. Beside me, I had a chest of goodies I had ordered off various kink websites. I recommended Marshall wear his black tank, fashionable tactical pants, and combat boots – knowing his toned body would further intoxicate the fag. We did not have to worry about Gabe, who had increasingly been spending the night at his new girlfriend’s place. 

Aiden returned, green apron in hand, and I could tell he was not expecting the both of us. Aiden looked at the chest with curiosity. I knew he was on edge, but trying to act casual for Marshall’s sake. “Hey guys,” he said, making his way toward the kitchen for a glass of water. 

“How was your first day, boy?” I asked pointedly. Marshall turned to stare at the fag as we had practiced. Aiden briefly paused as he poured from the pitcher – hoping I only mistakenly called him “boy” out of habit and that Marshall had not noticed. 

“Um, it was good,” he replied. 

“It was good… what?” I asked, Marshall and I both keeping our appraising stares. It was always such fun to see Aiden’s fag brain – equal parts anxiety and arousal – at work. 

“I…,” he said, almost whispering. He swallowed hard. “I dunno?” he said. 

“We forgot about the Nest cam, fag,” I said pointing toward the unassuming shelf below the TV. “Marshall knows what you are.” 

“Oh,” Aiden said in a not-quite-surprised daze. His knees almost buckled. His eyes briefly diverted toward Marshall and then swiftly went toward the ground.

I pushed the coffee table in front of me forward with my feet. “Strip, faggot. Take your position here.” Aiden bit his lip and fidgeted with reluctance. 

“I’ve already seen you naked on the Nest,” Marshall said. “Gabe is gone for the night.” 

It was a foregone conclusion what happened next. The fagboi took off the remainder of his workwear, revealing his reddening and strained caged clit, sunk to his knees, and crawled to his default position in between my and Marshall’s legs: knees spread wide, hands folded high behind back, and eyes facing downward. He took a deep breath. 

“This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it faggot? Getting to be your true self in front of everyone?” I said. 

“Yes, Sir,” he said quietly with a nod. 

“Speak up, faggot,” Marshall said. I tried to hide my smile as Marshall’s narrowing eyes showed me he was starting to get into it.

“Yes, Sir,” Aiden said emphatically. 

“You may have noticed Aiden’s been taking care of a lot of the chores around here,” I remarked to Marshall as I opened up the chest on the couch. 

“He’s been much more useful,” Marshall said, still appraising the contours of Aiden’s toned, nude and humble form. 

“He hasn’t gotten to serve properly for a while though. He should be naked for everyone to see. And it should be obvious he’s a faggot slave.” I pulled out a mass of leather, stainless steel, padlocks, and keys.

First, I encircled a thick leather collar around Aiden’s thin neck, tightened, and secured it with a lock behind him. I could feel him starting to perspire. Tiny tears were forming at the corner of his eyes and he made little noises. Obviously he had thought of living a moment like this thousands of times – mindlessly stroking his clit like it was a pipe dream. Now it was happening. 

Then, below the leather collar, I placed a similar steel choker restraint and locked a length of chain through its D-ring. I grabbed Aiden’s hands and placed them in front of him. I could have sworn he was shaking. The chain traveled to another ring with attached wrist cuffs, which I wrapped around Aiden, securing both with a key. 

“Legs out,” I said. Aiden complied and quietly wheezed as he realized what his bondage would be. Another padlock and more chain continued on to yet another ring and ankle cuffs. “Stand.” The result was beautiful: Aiden had a little bit more than a foot of chain between both wrists and ankles and, with a total length slightly below his own height, a bit of pull between his neck, arms, and legs. His smooth, gleaming skin contrasted so nicely with the shiny metal and he wore them well – as if he was meant to be adorned with precious elements and born to be restricted. There would be enough function with a constant reminder of his bondage and inferior status. 

Aiden often seemed overwhelmed by his submission, but his reactions, heartbeat, and straining cock were going off the charts. I massaged his arms, legs, and ass and cooed, “Good, fag. This is how you should be.” Marshall joined in on my groping as I retrieved a jumbo black felt marker from my chest. 

“What are you?” 

“A faggot, Sir.” 

I wrote the letters large in the center of his chest. His eyes looked downward as he descended into subspace. 

“What kind of faggot?” I asked. 

“Um–,” Aiden struggled, always at a loss for words.

“He’s a pathetic little twink is what he is,” Marshall volunteered. I chuckled. 

“Yep,” I said as I wrote ‘TWINK’ above ‘FAGGOT.’ “And how do you feel right now, faggot?”

“I feel…,” Aiden stammered. His eyes went upward as he searched for a thought. “Stupid, Sir.” He blinked rapidly. “I feel stupid.” 

“That’s right my airheaded boi,” I said, completing his label with the marker. “You’re a stupid twink faggot. Chained. Marked. Locked. Serving two men.” Marshall leaned back and shot me a smile as he interlocked his hands behind head and reclined on the couch for a more comfortable view, always looking to capture as good of a scene as he could. I spun Aiden around at the hips. “And still plugged too.” Indeed, the plug I had placed that morning was still lodged in his hole. I grabbed it and pulled the plug almost entirely out his hole before reinvading the fag. 

“Aw–ow,” Aiden moaned. Marshall laughed. 

“He’s been like that all day?” Marshall inquired. 

I nodded. “Of course." I handed Aiden a rather exhaustive task list from my pocket to incorporate a deeper clean: wiping the baseboards, cleaning stove grates and oven racks, dusting. "Here's your fag chores, boi." He studied it. I saw a hint of resentment beneath his exterior, which was a part of his perpetually conflicted state of being. 

“Get going, faggot,” Marshall said, which prompted Aiden to move toward the hallway supply closet.

“Yes, Sir,” he said, almost tripping as he realized the chains would force him to take short, shuffling steps. “Fuck,” Aiden silently mouthed. He struggled to bring both his hands to the closet door knob and retrieve the vacuum cleaner. Similarly, he labored just to pull the vacuum to the outlet. 

Marshall and I kept smiling. My dick hardened and I’m sure Marshall rocked up too. Aiden struggled so beautifully. He looked right that way. And I loved how every step he took gave the chains a little jangle and reminded him and everyone within earshot of how much control I had over him.

I flipped on a movie and put my feet up on the table. I knew that Marshall was eager to put the fag to more direct, personal use, but we had agreed it was also important to ignore Aiden. A lot of the boy’s obedience came from his desire to be less than and almost invisible. He felt most like the center of attention when kept completely in the background. We were giving him what he wanted by letting him toil while we relaxed. And we got what we wanted: knowing that in our own little world, we were the leaders, deserving of service and in control of our space. 

Still, after his vacuuming was complete, Aiden, still discovering how to keep himself balanced while plodding along, meekly approached the front of the couch and assumed the standard position as best he could. “Sir, please… the chains. It’s too hard.” Marshall narrowed his eyes, wondering how I would deal with the situation. 

“Should things be easy for faggots, boi?” I asked. 

“No–no Sir, but…”

“But what, fag?”

“It’ll take me too long, Sir. Please, Sir.”

“You’ll get used to them. Soon, you’ll be able to do everything just as easily as before."

“I don’t know about that, Sir,” he pleaded. I started to toy with his ridiculously tiny and red nub with my feet.

“I have never seen you so hard in your cage, fagboi. I think you like the chains. I think you like how they make you feel. And that might scare you a little.”

“I… did like them at first, Sir. But…”

I stood up and forced Aiden to do the same as I put my arms under his shoulders. Then, I pushed his back toward the cushion and dragged his hands to the couch arms. I kicked his feet out as far as the chains would allow. “Marshall, grab that switch please,” I said, glancing toward my goodie chest.  Marshall stood up with excitement and grabbed a nasty leather whip. “After each spank, you’re going to tell me what you are… and count them. Understood?”

Aiden closed his eyes and put his head to the couch. “Yes, Sir,” he whined. I gave Marshall a nod. Marshall aimed and swiftly flicked the switch across the center of the fag’s right ass cheek. 

“Ah. One. I’m a faggot, Sir,” Aiden replied. 

“No, what does it say on your body? Start over.” Marshall lashed Aiden again, this time on the left ass cheek. Aiden yelped. 

“One. I’m a stupid twink faggot, Sir.” I signaled Marshall again, who took his time teasing the leather in circles across the fag’s plugged ass before dealing him another nice surprise. “Two. I’m a stupid twink faggot, Sir,” Aiden repeated in anguish.

Marshall was a natural punisher as Aiden worked his way to ten. By the end, Aiden’s ass was already a pretty shade of red: drool, tears, snot and sweat collected on his face. 

“That’s right boi. You’re a stupid twink faggot. And that’s why you find yourself like this. What are you good for, fag?” 

“Serving, Sir,” he said wiping away tears. 

“Stand,” I said as I reached toward my chest and retrieved another must-have: a leather muzzle with a penis gag attachment. The muzzle covered most of Aiden’s face with straps going up either side of his head and around his nose, joining in the center of his noggin. I ensured the straps were tightened, worked the gag into his mouth, and secured it with a padlock. Aiden coughed, adjusting to the intrusion as I playfully patted his cheeks.

“There you go. You’ll wear the chains. And we don’t need to hear anymore from you. Get back to work.” 

“Yesh, Shirr,” Aiden mumbled through his gag. Marshall gave him a slap on the ass for good measure. I shook my head in amusement as Aiden staggered toward the closet for the Swiffer, his ass still stinging and red.

Marshall and I settled back into the film as Aiden completed his chores. The fagboi was a quick learner. He started taking lighter steps on his toes to increase his speed. He became more adept at letting his hands follow each other rather than let the sensation slow him down.

Marshall and I both had trouble keeping our eyes on the screen when it was time for Aiden to get on all fours to clean the baseboards with a Magic Eraser. His perfectly arched back, dangling caged nub, and visible plug contrasted nicely with his chains and leather. His ass was pink, even still, showing off how he had been corrected. I loved him muzzled; how it pushed his brown locks up and around his face. How it somehow concealed and illuminated his beauty at the same time.

The credits were rolling as Aiden wrapped up the remaining dishes in the sink. On his own accord, he scampered with twinkly chains back into the living room with two beers. I switched the TV to a YouTube music playlist.  

“The fag’s taking the initiative now. I like that,” I said to Marshall as we grabbed the drinks.

“He’s probably craving cock,” Marshall said, clearly in need of some relief himself by the way he was rubbing his crotch. “Say cheese,” Marshall said, holding up his phone, working to frame the shot. Aiden froze like a deer in the headlights as Marshall added to the growing record of his degradation; truly a stupid twink faggot on display.  

“On your knees, boi,” I said. Aiden, still recovering from his flash of embarrassment, sunk down to the floor. I beckoned him toward me, produced my key, and cuffed his wrists behind his back. 

“Show Marshall what you’re good for,” I said while I unbuckled and removed the muzzle and penis gag. Marshall manspread and Aiden crawled toward him as he flexed his worn out jaw and swallowed his drool. Aiden waited for more instruction. 

“Well?” Marshall said. “Get my pants off.” I smirked to myself. Marshall was a natural. Aiden craned his neck and spent more than a minute dragging Marshall’s pants and briefs toward his ankles with just his teeth, revealing a rather thick six-inch cock. Aiden worked his fag magic all over Marshall’s dick – applying all the lessons I taught him. Marshall leaned his head back and looked toward the ceiling as I took a hit of my vape. “Good boy,” Marshall said in pleasure, grabbing Aiden’s head. “Tongue out.” Marshall slammed his cock down on Aiden’s tongue before going balls deep. “You’re such a fucking faggot, Aiden.”

“Yethirr,” Aiden lisped with a mouthful of cock. 

“You going to stay locked and desperate for us? Keep being our little chore boi?”

“Yesha, mmm.”

“Tell me you’re a cocksucking chore boi.” 

“Macock shucking thorboi, thir.” 

Marshall slapped the faggot across the cheek and spit in his face. “Again.”

“Im, uggh,” Aiden said as he tried to catch a breath. “-Ock-seeing chobo.”

Marshall turned to me and we shared a snicker. I undid my belt and slid down my own pants and briefs. I snapped my fingers and pointed at my dick. 

Aiden, rocked his chained body toward me, and immediately took me the whole way down his throat. He was becoming molded to my cock's shape and he was adept at knowing just how to fit it in all the way.

“You like that daddy is letting you serve his hot friend?”

“Ehh-sa.”

“Are we your friends faggot?” I asked. He frantically shook his head and said, “No,” and I saw Marshall quickening the strokes of his cock out of the corner of my eye. 

“What are we then, boi?”

“My.. matherrs, thir.” 

“Your Masters?” 

“Mhmm,” Aiden moaned. I took two fingers and fed them to his uvula. 

“That’s right, fagboi, I bet you can’t wait until Gabe finds out you’re our little bitch, can’t you?”

“Mhmmm,” Aiden said, his moans raised an octave.  

For whatever reason, the idea of further revealing my ownership of the twink caused me to erupt all over his face. Marshall quickly grabbed the fag by his shoulders and pulled him toward his waiting cock and phone lens. His cum splattered in the fag’s hair and dribbled down his nose. You could practically feel the heat emanating from Aiden’s body as his total debasement took hold in his mind. He was a handsome boy and could have had almost anyone he wanted. But here was, on his knees being treated and recorded like a whore. Emasculated. Labeled. Denied any pleasure except that which he derived from pleasing others. 

I grabbed a chain-link leash from my naughty chest and clipped it to Aiden’s collar and briskly started walking up the stairs as the fag scrambled to keep up on just his knees, arms still secure behind him and pulling on all his chains. I knew the boy liked to feel used, discarded, and kept. And I’d give him the experience. Once in my room, I grabbed a bath towel and cleaned the fag’s face off. I wrapped the leash around the leg of my bedframe and secured it with another padlock. 

“Goodnight, fag,” I said. I produced the key for the rest of his chains. “You earned a little relief boi.” Aiden tensed up. 

“Sir, can I… keep them on actually?” he asked with a hint of shame. 

My heart warmed and I petted my hand through his hair. “Yeees, boi. Of course. Good fag.” I blindfolded the boy, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and left him alone as I shut the door behind me.

Downstairs, Marshall was pulling a frozen pizza out the oven. He giggled when he saw me. "Dude, that was--" 

"Yeah," I replied. There was not much to say. I was keeping a hot twink chained to my bed. He gave my bro a night to remember. The oven was remarkably cleaner than before. This was how it was supposed to be.