Every faggot needs a Man to serve

I’ll never get tired of mentioning it, ‘cause is the truth; I’m perfect. And I’m pretty fucking sure everyone knows it. Every silly dumb chick that I bang after a party, every man that falls for me… Well, they’re not men. You can’t call that way those little submissives faggots that are born to give everything they own to a real man. To someone like me.

Deep inside of me, I’ve always known that. But it wasn’t after I started to took away everything from the first fag [just as he deserved] that I started searching for that kind of so called men. Unfulfilled and sad faggots that craved to serve. And you would be surprised of how many of them are waiting around for a REAL man to show up and make them realize where they belong: serving Me.

Don’t misunderstand me; I love woman. A fat, juicy pussy is always welcome. But there was something about taking everything away from those fags and making them realize that they are nothing, that they need to worship and be humiliated in order to be happy… Something about that gave me a boner. I can’t help it.

That’s how I met Jamie. Searching.

JAMIE. He even has a faggot name.

I met him at the gym [you would be surprised to know how many submissives little boys go there just to admire studs and have material to jerk off later]. He looked like an average rich and “handsome” fuckboy, but I knew he wasn’t. But not just because of the way he looked at me. Jamie… He just had that special thing in his eyes that BEGGED to be treated like the scum he was.

“You’re doing it wrong. Stick out your butt  in order to get the results you want.” I told him one day, out of the blue. We were lifting weights, and he wasn’t doing it wrong at all, but I wanted to see his reaction… What I said could have an… Interesting meaning to a fag, and I was sure he was going to get it.

He didn’t disappoint me; his pretty face turned red, and he did what I told him to do. He didn’t even look at me in the eye, but I know he could tell that I was pleased.

“Good job, boy.” Again, he didn’t answer, but his body did.

Jamie looked ridiculous, but he kept the position. He was, in a way, humiliating himself in front of the whole gym, and I’m sure he could tell by the way everyone was looking at him… But he probably liked it. I’m sure the poor fag was too busy trying to keep his dick from showing after receiving an order from such a hot stud like me.

“Hey, boy.” I called him after a while. He immediately looked at me, just as a good trained puppy would. “Be good and buy for me a new towel. This one is filthy.”  

By the expression his face adopted, I’m sure he was trying very hard not to cum in his pants as I spoke to him. I didn’t give him money to buy what I wanted, and he didn’t ask. He just dropped the weights and he almost run to do what I ordered.

When he came back, he didn’t look me in the eyes when he offered me my fresh towel. I took my time before accepting it; put the weights away, drank some water… And he just waited for me. Again, like a little well trained puppy.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Jamie.” He spoke with a very soft voice, way different that how I’ve heard him talk before.

“Well, Jamie. You should do something about what’s growing in your pants just now. Not all real man are so considerate with boys that get a boner while watching them work out.” I told him as I clapped his shoulder. His little faggot face went full red, and I’m sure his little faggot cock went even harder. “For you.” I threw him my used towel, the one that was wet with my sweat, and his eyes glanced as he catched it. “Tomorrow, boy.”

And I just walked away.

I knew he would be back tomorrow at the same hour. I knew he loved the little taste I gave him of how It feels serving a real man, and that probably his dick would end up sore after reliving the moment in the comfort of his bed. I knew mine would.

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