verbalBTTM

Chapter 2 Friday, June 25, 1993, 06:07 PM On a perfectly manicured lawn, we find ourselves on our hands and knees, panting with anticipation. My Mentor holds my leash, his grip firm and possessive, treating me like his prized pet. I steal a glance at harry and the others; we're all visibly aroused, our bodies betraying our eagerness. It's a relief to know I'm not alone in this carnal desire. Master emerges from the grand house, and claps His hands, His voice booming with authority, "Omega's drinks, Beta's snacks, Alphas enhance the mood." All the men, each adorned with a collar bearing their rank symbols, enter the house. Moments later, they return with serving platters laden with cocktails and light snacks, their movements graceful and efficient. They start serving, beginning with the Master, then the Mentors, and finally us. A double rye on the rocks is placed before me, the ice cubes clinking against the glass, a stark contrast to the heat building within me. Master raises his glass, His eyes gleaming with mischief, and toasts, "To the faggots." Everyone repeats the toast, our voices a chorus of confirmation and desire. We bow our heads in gratitude before drinking, the liquid burning a path down my throat, fueling the fire within. The Alphas have prepared a roaring fire, and plush cushions are placed on the chairs—26 in total—and four log benches surround the fire pit. My Mentor tugs at my leash, and I follow obediently, my body aching with need, until he takes his seat. I sit by his side like a loyal dog, on my knees, looking up at him with adoring eyes, as instructed in the binder, my body at his command. We enjoy our refreshments, and I appreciate the brief respite for my body, savoring the moment before the night's true purpose is revealed. Suddenly, four men dressed in leather, like the Master, approach from the house, their boots crunching on the gravel path. Master welcomes them with a wicked grin, introducing us individually, starting with me. "This is faggot bindel, and today is his eighteenth birthday," Master says, his voice laced with promise. The four men smile, their eyes roving over my body, appreciating the gift I am. "Welcome, faggot bindel," they greet in unison, as an Omega serves them their drinks, his movements fluid and alluring. As they move on to my next friend, I return to my Mentor's side, my eyes never leaving His, my body humming with anticipation. One by one, each of my friends is introduced to these four men, their fates sealed in the promise of submitting to their dominance. Master claps, His voice firm and demanding, "Faggot worthington, why are you a faggot?" arthur stands up, his body trembling with a mix of fear and excitement, and replies, "I am defined as a faggot because of my behavior, because faggots crave cock, sir." Master smiles, His eyes gleaming with approval, and says, "Good faggot." arthur returns to his place, his body sagging with relief and desire. Master asks this question of all of us, His voice a seductive whisper, promising both pleasure and possibly punishment. He then turns to the four men and says, smiling, "I told you these are worthy candidates; the men smile in approval. The Alpha’s, Beta’s, and Omega’s return to the house, their tasks completed for now. The Master, the four men, and the Mentors walk off together, leaving the four of us, leashes tied to the chairs, alone by the fire. We look at each other, our eyes reflecting the dance of the flames, wondering what the others are thinking, but we all know. I'm excited and a little frightened, and I doubt I am alone in this feeling, my body thrumming with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The Alpha’s return with tables, the Beta’s with meats and vegetables, and they set up a grill over the fire, the sizzling of the night’s meal filling the air with an enticing aroma. The Omega’s bring pitchers of soft drinks and two coolers of beer, their movements efficient and graceful. The Mentor’s return with a couple of large duffle bags, their contents are a tantalizing mystery, and then they unleash us. They tell us to sit wherever we like, our bodies free to move, to explore, to indulge. As the dinner is cooking, the Master returns with the four Leathermen, and our Mentor’s whom are all enjoying a cigar together, their laughter and conversation a low hum in the background. My Mentor returns to his seat, snaps his fingers, and points at his feet. I take my place in front of him, my hands eager to please, and begin to rub them, as the binder had instructed, my touch firm and sensuous. he Master, and the four men observe us performing our service upon our Mentor’s, their eyes roving over our bodies, appreciating the sight of our submission and devotion. Friday, June 25, 1993, 07:00 PM The Beta’s are busy tending to the grill, the sizzling of meat and vegetables filling the air with an enticing aroma, a symphony of scents that tease the senses. The Omega’s refresh drinks, ensuring that every glass is full, every thirst quenched. The Alpha’s supervise, their eyes roving over the scene, ensuring that every detail is perfect, every need met. The men relax, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the camaraderie, their laughter and conversation a low hum in the background, until an Alpha rings a bell, its clear, resonant tone cutting through the chatter, a signal that the night's true festivities are possibly about to begin. The Master claps, His voice firm and joyful, "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die." His words, spoken with refinement and intellect, clearly come from a well-read man, a man who knows the value of seizing the moment, of indulging in the pleasures of the flesh. A handsome feast is laid out on the larger table, the Beta’s fixing plates with precision and care, while the Omega’s continue to refresh drinks, ensuring everyone's glass is full, their movements a dance of efficiency and grace. We all sit and enjoy our flavorful dinners, a brief respite from the slight tension that hangs in the air. The food is exquisite, a symphony of flavors that dance on the tongue, a prelude to the night's true delights. After some time for digestion, the Master claps again, his voice firm, leaving no room for question or delay. "It is time," he says, his words echoing in my mind, building the anticipation and nervousness within me. What does "it is time" mean? I glance at harry and the others, seeing the same mix of excitement and fear reflected in their eyes, our bodies thrumming with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Friday, June 25, 1993, 08:00 PM With the sounds of cicadas and the crackling of the fire, I notice the Alpha’s grabbing items from the duffel bags. One of them looks at me with lustful eyes, a wicked grin playing on his lips, and I feel a shiver of anticipation run down my spine, my body aching with need. The Alpha’s lay some padding on top of the logs. Master claps, his voice firm and demanding, "FAGGOTS, POSITION 1." Immediately, the four of us sit our butts down on the ground where we are, our heads up and arms extended out to give our torsos support, our bodies offering themselves up for inspection, for use. Master observes us, his gaze intense and scrutinizing, appreciating the sight of our submission and devotion, before clapping again. "FAGGOTS, POSITION 2." We're all sitting doggy style with our heads up, and our backside out on offer, our bodies ready and willing, eager to please. Again, the Master observes us, his expression unreadable, and claps once more. "FAGGOTS, POSITION 3. With our faces down and our asses up." We obey, our bodies moving in sync, a dance of submission and devotion, the binder had instructed us well Master says, "Good faggots, very good." His approval a heady feeling, a rush of endorphins that courses through my veins. He points to the logs and says, "FAGGOTS, pick a log and lay down facing up." We all pick the nearest one, the padding beneath us offering a slight cushion against the hard wood. Master claps, "FAGGOTS, LIFT UP YOUR LEGS AND HOLD THEM UP." Master claps again, "OMEGAS, SERVICE." The Omegas, one for each of us, stand at our feet, their eyes gleaming with anticipation, eager to please, to serve. Mine gets down on his knees, grabs my chest, and starts to eat my ass out, his tongue exploring every inch, his touch both gentle yet firm. I start to gasp in pleasure, my body arching off the log, my hips bucking, seeking more, always more. Then a Beta comes over, his presence deliberate and authoritative, and starts sucking my cock while massaging my left ass cheek and tugging at my balls. Then an Alpha sits right down on my face, facing towards the other two, his balls resting on my throat. I begin to eat him out, extending my tongue as far as I can, right into his hairy hole, my tongue exploring every inch, eagerly probing. He puts his hands on my chest and the Beta's head, guiding the Beta's cock service. Sniff sniff, is that the little brown bottle I smell a slight whiff of? The ass-eating pauses and then returns with longer tongue strokes and nibbles on my side walls, the Omega's tongue exploring every inch. Now the blowjob stops mid-stroke and returns with slower motion and more tongue, the Beta's mouth tantalizing every inch of my shaft, his actions planned and deliberate. The Alpha's ass takes more from my face as I feel drool drip on my chest, a sign of what I’m here for, to be used as a faggot for the pleasure of these men. Master claps and says, "ROTATE, SOUNDS ON." I hear and feel a moan in my hole, then what seems like the Omega's face being slid into my ass, his touch now sloppy and desperate. The Alpha gets up, puts the bottle to my nostril, and then shoves his cock down my throat, his entrance dominating. Plowing my face as I gag in ecstasy, his cock stretching every bit of my esophagus. Whomever is blowing has stopped but is still tugging my balls and massaging my other ass cheek. Then the Omega stops eating my hole and then Oh My GOD! oh fuck, that's a cock slowly going into me. I start to moan over my gagging "uh-uh-uh" with each slide of that greasy cock, his length increasing its probing depth, his insertion unrelenting and firm. The Alpha now letting off a guttural growl tearing from his throat, as his hips give a shuddering crescendo, deliberately sputtering himself off in my throat. choking, I then scramble for a proper breath as I swallow his seed with reverent pride. "Cough cough," I look up a bit and it's my Mentor, his eyes gleaming with approval, his presence dominating and totally in control of me. He says, "You like my cock, faggot?" as he slams it all the way in. I give a gasping moan and say, "Yes, sir. My holes are for your use, sir." I tilt my head up, look right into his eyes, and moan, "PLEASE USE MY HOLES, MAKE ME YOUR FAGGOT, SIR." His vigor increases as my moans deepen in tone. The Omega gives me the brown bottle again and says, "Breathe deeply, faggot. Keep breathing, you worthless faggot." The Omega takes a sniff himself and then starts to kiss me. I hear a slap coming from behind me then he starts to moan, his body arching. Some other cock is fucking him as I grab at him offering him my embrace as a fellow brother reveling in our submission. We're both kissing and squealing, "Fuck me, fuck my hole, I'm nothing but a faggot," our voices a chorus of submission and devotion, our bodies moving in sync. He furiously grabs the back of my thighs, as to help me offer more of my hole as I try to hold his legs apart. We're two faggots helping the other offer the other's ass to the men around us. The Omega puts the bottle to both our nostrils so that we may both share in the scent of willful lust. Our holes fully open now, realized by the sounds of our muffled moans. Finally, my Mentors body a quaking monument to raw desire, arched and trembling under the onslaught of his pleasure, erupts inside me, his head sputtering right on my prostate sending shivers up my spine. I start to convulse a little, but I'm held down by both men as I feel his cock delivering its promise slowly expanding my hole, matching his heartbeat as he pumps his superior load into my birthday boy hole as he says, "Yeah, faggot, happy birthday.” As his cock softens, he slowly withdraws himself. He is then immediately replaced by another cock, this one much thicker, I howl in ecstasy, my body arching, my hips bucking. The Omega feeds me the scent of lust again. The flesh of my hole, beaten like a punching bag, quickly accepts its fate as this cock's playground. The Omega is picked up and thrown down on me, so our cocks impale each other's throats. We both gag with joy as we long ago accepted our fate as faggots, and faggots crave cock. The Omega is a drool factory, leaving me wet at my crotch. I grab his ass cheeks and pull them apart so that he may receive an even greater blessing from the men. The Omega, unable to control himself, creams my throat in pulsing fashion while his top is still going at it, as his moans transform from pleasure to discomfort. His cock softening, my tongue unable to perform its charms, I pull his body forward so that I may taste his hole and the other man's cock, my tongue exploring every inch that I can. "Eureka!" the man says, "Good work, faggot bindel, stiffer FAGGOT, STIFFER.” Ughh, the man begins to blow his load as I feel the base of his cock expand and contract. I feel his cock pulsing, in pumping fashion, inseminating itself into the Omega's hole. My tongue, remaining at its place until he slithers his cock out, scraping every inch over my tongue using me like a cleaner. My greedy self pushes the boy half an inch upwards, so that I may have that glorious nectar of man oozing out of the Omega's hole, my tongue collecting all that it can like the fucking cum slut I now am. Oh My God, the taste, it's so potent, I must offer myself to this man just to have his seed. My top lets out a roar as I say, "YES SIR, CUM IN MY FAGGOT HOLE," my voice a chorus of submission and devotion. As he withdrawals himself, the Omega, greedy as me, holds my legs back and sucks the top's cum right from my hole like a thirsty traveler. The Beta commands, "Turn over, boy," and I snap into action, my body responding to his authoritative tone. The Omega, driven by insatiable desire, returns to my hole, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch with relentless fervor. The Beta grabs my head firmly with his left hand, forcing me to inhale the intoxicating fumes of passion, a heady mix of sweat, lust, and the promise of more. He skull-fucks me with ruthless intensity, as if I owe him every ounce of my submission. With both hands now, he spits in my face while asking me, you like having your hole fucked out faggot? I attempt to answer but the only sounds you can distinguish from me are gagging with an occasional gasp of air as I attempt to say “yes sir”. His breath shatters into desperate, heaving gasps, a feral roar ripping from his chest as an apocalyptic surge of pleasure engulfs him. His eyes clench shut, every muscle seizes to the breaking point under a relentless storm of sensation. Pulling me completely in, choking me to asphyxiation explodes inside me, each throbbing pulse a blinding lightning strike, scorching through his veins delivering me his glorious gift of cum right where it belongs. With teared eyes I stare up at him coaxing the last of his offering from his glorious scepter. Softening now, I savor the taste, as I breathe in the sweet, musky stench of sex that clings to his balls. His plump bush fills my face, marking me as used, a claim of ownership that sends a thrill down my spine. Another man, his identity shrouded in the night, enters my backside with ease, his cock gliding in as if it were made for me. I willingly accept his embrace, my body yielding to his every movement. He fills me completely, then slowly retreats, only to return with a swirling motion that drives me wild. "FUCK ME, MY BROTHER, USE ME FOR YOUR PLEASURE," I yell, my voice a ragged plea, desperate for his release. I hear a deep, approving "GOOD FAGGOT" from him as he slaps my ass, the sting of his palm only fueling my desire. He continues to use me, his rhythm unrelenting, each thrust a claim of his dominance. The Beta finally withdraws from my mouth, freeing my view of the scene before me. Through the dancing flames of the fire, I see my friends, much like myself, lost in a sea of pleasure of their submission. They are drenched in the sweat, slobber, and cum of many faceless and masked men, their identities unknown or lost in the night. Their voices rise in a chorus of ecstasy and submission, each one desperate to please, to accept the blessings of their new-found brothers' love. The man using me grabs my ass hard, his fingers digging into my flesh, slightly hurting me, but the pain only heightens my pleasure. He releases himself inside me with a final, powerful thrust, and I feel the tip of his blessed cock spurt against my prostate, sending shivers of ecstasy up my spine. I can barely hold myself in the offering position, my elbows shaking with the effort, but I hold steadfast, my resolve unbroken, my body a temple of submission. Holy shit, another man just blew his load into me, and I don't even know what his face looks like, how fucking hot. As the man withdraws himself, I can feel his soft cock plop out of me, leaving a trail of his cum slowly making its way to my taint. Each bit of the fluid's movement confirms my lust and need to dive further into submission just for the cum alone. Master approaches, His presence dominating the space around Him. He leans down and gives me a kiss, a mark of approval and ownership. He then sits me down beside Him, His touch gentle yet firm while embracing me as his boy, and offers me a cup of lemonade, a small respite from the night's debauchery. He nods to the Mentors, a silent command, and things begin to settle down as the Mentors start to pull everyone off as Master disappears back into the night. We form a circle, and I find myself with my back to the fire, the warmth a soothing balm to my aching muscles. Master returns, pushing a cart before Him. On top is a birthday cake, its eighteen candles flickering in the night, a beacon of my eighteenth year. He places a paper birthday boy hat atop my head, a playful touch that sends a thrill through me. "Make a wish, birthday faggot," He says, His voice a low rumble. I lean forward and blow out the candles, the smoke curling around me, a symbol of passage and transformation, for me, my new love of submission, a true gift that I've already begun to unwrap. Master starts slicing the cake, passing the pieces around, reserving the last for me. I take it with a tilt of my head, a silent thank you, my eyes never leaving His. He smiles, a wicked curve of his lips, and refreshes everyone's cup with lemonade, the clink of glass a melody of indulgence. Carrot Cake, my favorite, a surprise that sends a rush of warmth through me. Noticing my delight, He says, "One of the other Dom’s made it for you," Master says, his voice laced with amusement. "He'll be here tomorrow, you can thank him then." We take a moment to recharge, our bodies sated yet eager for more. Then, the Master turns to me, His eyes gleaming with mischief. "What did you wish for faggot?" He asks, His voice a seductive whisper. With a mischievous grin, I reply, "For you to fuck me in front of my brothers," my voice steady, my desire unmistakable. The Master nods to my Mentor, and suddenly, the largest duffel bag is brought near the fire. The Mentors set up a metal contraption, its purpose a tantalizing mystery. Master leans in, his breath hot on my ear, and asks, "Do you know what that is, faggot?" I shake my head, my heart pounding with anticipation. Chuckling, He says, "You'll see in a moment," as He picks me up, spins me upside down, and lifts me by my ankles. His tongue delves into my hole, exploring every inch with intense vigor, while He offers me his cock, truly a blessing, my anticipation growing much like my gagging. I grab His thighs for support, my fingers digging into his flesh, as I relish the plumpness of His member. He pulls me up a bit further, allowing me to use my knees to hold myself in place. His tongue, buried in my fuck hole, is full of flavor, a symphony of taste and texture that leaves Him gasping for more. As I am held up against my choosing, but to my delight, His cock chokes me, His balls resting on my eyes and forehead, a claim of ownership that makes me revel in my submissive state. I push myself back and forth on His cock, tilting my head, pushing myself up from his thighs, purposely gagging myself, a willing participant in my own degradation. A Mentor feeds me the aroma of intentional sleaze, a heady mix of lust and power, and my eyes close as all I can think of is my Master's cock choking me, stretching me to new widths. I am such a piggy faggot, a willing slave to his every desire.

Welcome to the club man, keep exploring

I know a thing or two, I'll be posting chapter 2 next week.

Love watching that boy get fucked, he was very expressive and pliable.

The story you’re about to read is woven from the threads of my own experiences, though I’ve taken some creative liberties. It unfolds through the eyes of a young man seeking something deeper than fleeting moments of physical connection—a journey that echoes my own from years past under the tutelage of my Dom. As I navigated the crowded space, I was struck by the diversity of the crowd. There were those who exuded confidence, their presence commanding respect, and others who, like me, were newcomers, seeking guidance and understanding. It was a world where vulnerability was not a weakness but a strength, a badge of honor worn with pride. Here, i found not just a community, but a family. We are bound by trust, respect, and a shared understanding of the path we walk." Under his tutelage, I began to understand the nuances of the lifestyle. It was not just about the physical acts, but about the mental and emotional connection that made those acts meaningful. He taught me that dominance and submission were not about power, but about trust and surrender. It was a dance, a delicate balance where both partners were equal, their roles defined by mutual consent and understanding. As I delved deeper into the world, I realized that the BDSM lifestyle was a journey of self-discovery. It was a place where I could explore my desires, my fears, and my strengths. The community embraced me, offering support and guidance, their experiences a beacon in the dark. Through the lens of my journey, I hope to capture the essence of this world—a world where intimacy is not just physical, but a profound connection of the mind and soul. It is a place where vulnerability is celebrated, and trust is the foundation upon which everything is built. To those who are curious, I invite you to explore this world with an open mind and heart. It is a journey that can lead to profound self-discovery and connection. And to those who are already a part of this community, I hope my words resonate with your experiences and serve as a reminder of the beautiful bond we share. With gratitude and respect, I dedicate this story to Sir Evans, the Dom who guided me into this world. His mentorship was a gift, a beacon that illuminated my path and taught me the true meaning of discipline and community. Thank you, Sir Evans, for showing me the way. My Genesis, The Brotherhood Chapter 1 Tuesday, May 18, 1993, 7:17 PM They say curiosity killed the cat. For me, it didn’t kill—it reshaped me, pulling me into a world I never imagined. I was seventeen, trapped in the haze of a trigonometry final, my textbook a lifeless slab of numbers mocking me from the desk. I needed an escape, something to jolt me awake. So, like any restless, hormone-drunk suburban kid with a dial-up modem and a head full of dirty secrets, I slunk into AOL’s alt.binaries.m4m.personals.NY.LI—a gritty, pre-Craigslist underworld of raw desire. Most ads were the usual filth: blurry nudes, pathetic begging, or shady offers for quick cash. Then one hit me like a slap across the face. CONTROL — Want to take it, or have it taken from you? My heart pounded, my jeans tightening before my brain could catch up. I clicked, already half-lost. The ad was bold, unapologetic: >Do you know how to take control—or crave having it stripped away? Ever wonder why kink ignites something in you that you’re too afraid to name? You already know the answer. You just haven’t dared to speak it. >Verbal Dom Master seeks pledges for a brotherhood of men. You’ll be trained in bondage, dominance, sadism, masochism, and more. Confront the lies you tell yourself—the ones holding you back. Our mirror will show you your most raw truths, and by facing them, you’ll grow. You were meant to command your world, not shrink from it. >Let go. Trust yourself and your brothers. What awaits is beyond what you can grasp now. Once you begin, you won’t turn back—the truth you find will pull you forward. >This isn’t a fantasy. It’s a lifestyle for men ready to leave boyhood behind and embrace the responsibilities of manhood. >Reply with a paragraph about why this speaks to you—and a photo. I shared it with my friends. We were stunned, drawn in, our curiosity burning. This wasn’t just intriguing; it felt like a door to something deeper. Together, we sent a reply with a group photo and a short note about ourselves. The next day, a response arrived: Hello, young gentlemen. Congratulations on taking the first step. As you’re not yet of age for deeper discussion, I can only offer an outline for now. If you’d like, we can meet for coffee in a public place. After a few messages, we set a date. Sunday, May 23, 1993, 3:00 PM I arrived at the Bel-Aire Diner in Astoria, Queens NY, a lively, neutral spot. We met in the parking lot, as planned. He was tall, well-built, handsome, commanding, his presence heavy with quiet authority. “You may call me Sir,” he said, his voice steady. “Understand, boy?” “Yes, Sir,” I replied, my throat tight. Inside, the host greeted us with, “As requested, Sir,” and led us to a private booth in a quiet corner. Sir spoke first, cutting through the diner’s hum. “Let me outline things before you ask questions.” He described the initial training: obeying commands, standing at attention, speaking only when addressed, and understanding our place. We’d learn grooming, domestic skills—cleaning, bar tending, massaging, ironing, light cooking—and a code of honor, conduct, and behavior. “You’re not training to be a maid,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine. “You’re training to be a respectable, independent man who relies on no one.” Initiation would have to wait until my eighteenth birthday, for legal reasons. He handed me four binders, each divided into chapters with assignments. I couldn’t help asking, “What about fucking and that sort of stuff, sir?” He smiled, patiently. “I understand you're eager to fulfill your fantasies. But without this foundation, you’ll only chase fleeting moments. You contacted me because you want more—and this is the groundwork, boy.” We finished our coffees and parted. Afterwards, I met with the boys, showing them the binders. The tasks seemed manageable—some we already knew. We agreed to commit and start the lessons. Friday, June 25, 1993, 12:00 PM (My 18th Birthday) After a small family party—chocolate cake, presents, and my mom’s worried lecture about ticks at Mohonk State Park, where I said we were camping—my dad slipped me forty bucks with a look that said, “I know you're story is complete BS, go have fun.” They had no idea what we were really chasing. After a small birthday party with the family, accompanied by chocolate cake and some gifts. I start to pack up for the weekend. I told my parents that the guys and I were going camping at the Mohonk state park preserve. My mom, overly concerned about ticks, gives me a loving lecture and some deet. I promise her that we will check each other's bodies for ticks every night before bed. My dad quietly slipped me forty bucks and gave me that look that says, I know you're story is complete BS, go have fun. Little did they know what hijinks we were actually up to. By 2:45 PM, we reached the address. I knocked at the door, and Master greeted us, leading us inside to a mudroom. His voice was calm but firm. “Tonight is a big weekend for you boys. Tonight, you will begin to confront your fears and admit your desires. This will be done in the presence of others and you will be held to our standards. You will be tested and broken down in front of each other, and many other men.” He explained the hierarchy: everyone will be masked except him and us four. Only Master could speak to us at first, though four mentoring Dom's would later share equal authority, followed by other ranks outlined in the binders. “All orders will be obeyed,” he said. “When you're ready, simply take your shoes off and wait inside the living room, until someone comes for you.” We sat on the couch, nerves buzzing. A young man, masked and wearing only a collar with an Alpha symbol, gestured for us to follow. He led us to a large room, dark and smoky, lit by dim red lights, like a massive converted garage. Naked men stood in a semicircle, their masked faces unreadable. A spotlight in the center of the room snapped on. “Faggots, stand in the light,” Master commanded. We stepped into the glare, exposed. “Faggots, take off all of your clothing and put them into the marked bags. The bags are labeled 'faggot' and our last names.” Master addressed me first. “Faggot bindel, announce your name and why you are here.” My voice unsteady. “My name is dietrich bindel and I am a faggot. I came here seeking, discipline, training, mentoring, and respect Sir.” danny, harry, and arthur followed, their voices echoing mine. Master approached me. “Faggot bindel, are you ready to submit yourself to my authority?” “Sir, yes, Sir,” I replied. “Kneel and repeat after me.” I knelt, reciting: “I, dieterich bindel, fully offer myself to you without hesitation, reservation, or limit for your personal use and/or entertainment. I will obey every command from you without refusal until you release me of my pledge of obligation.” A collar tightened around my neck, slightly restrictive, a constant reminder of my choice, and my place. He repeated the ritual with the others. (What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?) Master ordered, “Faggot bindel, you will slowly parade yourself around the circle of your brothers on all fours like a dog three times. Properly display yourself for us to see.” I crawled, voice nervous, but clear: “My name is Faggot bindel, and I am a worthless faggot. I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect.” I repeat this over and over until my three laps are completed, my words steadied with each recital. I then returned to my spot, and watched the others follow my example. A light flashed, illuminating an area, and two curtains are drawn revealing four dildos attached to the wall, each labeled with our last names. “Go to your individual station, and show us how you suck cock faggots,” Master said. Still on our knees, we obeyed, making our way over to our designated spots and begin to suck on the dildos. Moments later, I hear a clap and four men approached, and force us to go down further. I gagged, throat burning, phlegm pooling. I try to push back, but the man controlling my head pushes me even harder. Master’s voice cut through: “Resistance is cowardice. What did you come here for, faggots?” Choking, we tried: “I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect, sir.” The words were muffled, strained. Master claps again and I can hear four other men approach us. Then a small brown bottle was held to my nostril, the other pinched. “Breathe deeply, faggots,” Master said. I inhaled, my head spinning, a warm rush flooding me. Somehow, the dildo became easier, the force diminishes to a gentle suggestion. Another inhale, and I leaned into it, craving the sensation. Clap. “Faggots, turn around one hundred and eighty degrees.” As we begin another light snaps on, and I can see a camera on a tripod gleaming under new light. “What do all faggots crave?” Master asked. I froze, dizzy. A whip stung my ass, and all the men shouted, “Faggots crave cock, sir.” Instinctively, I moved my ass against the dildo and began to fuck myself. The bottle is then applied to me again, and pleasure surged. “Who are you and what are you looking for?” Holy shit this feels amazing as the rhythm of my lust is taking over. “My name is Faggot bindel, and I am a worthless faggot. I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect, sir,” Master says louder faggots as you fuck your faggot holes. I said, voice rising. “MY NAME IS FAGGOT BINDEL, AND I AM A WORTHLESS FAGGOT. I SEEK DISCIPLINE, TRAINING, MENTORING, AND RESPECT, SIR!” I moved faster, lost in the act, my body alive with need. With that bottle being reapplied to my nose and me repeating the words. My ass completely opens up and I really begin to fuck myself like some cheap whore. Back and forth, over and over again. I feel mindless, cheap and degraded. God my cock is rock fucking hard. Clap. Four more men approach and place another dildo in front of each of us. “What do faggots crave?” The boys and I all shout out “FAGGOTS CRAVE COCK SIR” and we all instinctively suck those dildos as we fuck ourselves. My God I feel like such a slut. Caught in the rhythm the room joined a unified chant: “FAGGOTS CRAVE COCK, SIR.” We kept going until Master roared, “ENOUGH!” Silence fell, but we four were too caught up to stop. A sharp slap stilled me. “Mentors, collect your faggots,” Master said. A masked Mentor clipped a leash to my collar, walking me outside to a fire pit surrounded by an expansive lawn. The cool night air brushed my sweat-soaked skin, the fire’s glow casting shadows on the masked men around us. Cicadas hummed, mixing with the crackle of flames. My Mentor, his presence firm, placed his hand on my shoulder. danny, harry, and arthur were placed nearby, each with their own Mentor, leashes taut. The fire warmed our bare skin, whip marks faintly visible. The men chanted, “Faggots crave cock, sir,” the words weaving through the night, stirring my nerves. The chant swelled, then stopped, leaving silence. Master’s voice rang out. “Faggots, you’re here to face your deepest desires and confront your fears. This weekend, you’ll be pushed to your limits, tested in ways you never imagined. You’ll embrace your true self and find strength in your submission.” His gaze held us. “This weekend, you’ll be initiated into our brotherhood—marked, claimed, forever changed. Are you ready to accept this path, to embrace the faggot you are destined to be?” The question settled over us. I looked at my friends, their eyes reflecting my own mix of fear and anticipation. We nodded, committing to whatever lay ahead. Master smiled, calm and knowing. He clapped. “Then let the initiation begin.” He turned, heading back to the house, leaving us by the fire, our anticipation growing in the flickering light. End of chapter 1

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It's been really something beautiful to be a part of. Last night before I left, he said something to the effort of "hey I finally have a friend, someone who watches out for me". I'm glad the elevator door closed, I didn't want him to see me tear up. It's truly a blessing to be there for him. You should of seen his face when he told me about his first time. The devilish smile he had when he told me, how he held that man's load in his ass. He is free now and so dam happy.