first-time My Genesis, The Brotherhood

[verbalBTTM]

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

Edited October 23, 2025 by verbalBTTM
Forgot to write a portion of the title

[hntnhole]

SOMEBODY knows is way around what Dominance/submission is all about; what that life truly is.   

I'm hoping that the reference to "Chapter One" means there will be more chapters to this magnificent prelude !!! 

 

 

[verbalBTTM]

44 minutes ago, hntnhole said:

SOMEBODY knows is way around what Dominance/submission is all about; what that life truly is.   

I'm hoping that the reference to "Chapter One" means there will be more chapters to this magnificent prelude !!! 

 

 

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

[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.

[onlyraw]

Great story …. How lucky these boys are to have found their family…. their tribe.

looking forward to the next chapter(s) !!

[hntnhole]

verbalBTTM, this story is simply fantastic. 

It won't be for every guy, and that's 100% ok - it's not written for every guy. 

For those men whose sexual explorations/fantasies/desires have included the rarified world of Leathersex, Bd/sm, it's manna for a satisfaction-hungry mind.  I'd guess that there are quite a number of guys that have fantasized about a life of service, but haven't found the courage to actually seek that life out. 

Beautifully conceived, beautifully composed, and sublime in it's focus, it's a pleasure to absorb.  Please continue to share your talents with us.  

[verbalBTTM]

Chapter 3

 

Friday, June 2, 1993, 11:18 PM

 

I hear a few clanks and claps, and then master stops and says, "Are you ready for your birthday present, faggot?" With His cock suctioned in my mouth, I gag out, "Yes, sir." I'm pulled off master by the four mentors and placed in a leather-like hammock. My legs are put into these U-shaped things on either side, leaving them up, open, and rested. master, with a shit-eating grin, gives me one of those brown bottles and says, "Indulge yourself, faggot." He goes down on my hole again as He grabs at my armpits and places His thumbs on my nipples, teasing me mercilessly.

 

I whimper in pleasure as I sniff the bottle, and then grab the chains with my hands so I can feel some restriction in my arms. master comes up for air, gives me a kiss as I feel the tip of His cock knocking on my back door, ready to plunder. My body starts to tingle from the tension of His touch and the building pressure on my special place, making me quiver with anticipation.

 

I grab His neck and loudly say, "My faggot hole is yours, sir.” He kisses me with His tongue down to my throat, deeply with passion, and slowly enters with my birthday present, stretching me wide. I moan without restraint as I grab at His backside for dear life, urging Him deeper. I spread my legs as far apart as possible to welcome Him into His new home, my hole quivering with anticipation and desire.

 

Masters entrance, a welcomed pain, fills my rectum with newly discovered expansion, witnessed by my curling toes and the uncontrollable shaking of my legs. My muffled cries and gasps only fuel His long entrance past my second ring. My moan deepens in tone to a depth I've never uttered before, a guttural sound of pure submission. Finally, I feel Masters balls rest on my taint. He is fully inside of me, claiming every inch of my tight, willing hole, owning me completely.

 

I look directly into His eyes, and as I use my tongue, I utter the muffled words, "Please... Fuck me, now," in an even deeper, more primal tone of want, never offered before. He collects both of my wrists and holds them together, pressing against the chain, and with His right hand, He grabs my right ass cheek and digs in an extra quarter inch, making me jump and moan. "Uhhh," He starts to pull out, teasing me with a rush of blood to His cock, forcing me to clench His hand for dear life, desperate for more.

 

Slowly out and in, the world is invisible to me. This man and His cock is all there is, pounding into me with relentless intensity. In and out all over again; my friends, my new found brothers in depravity, jealously witnessing my bliss, their eyes hungry with lust. He repeats His motions as harry and danny each come to my sides and suck on an armpit, their tongues leaving wet trails on my skin, heightening my pleasure.

 

master frees His hand from my ass and places it around my throat, pushing inward, noticeably restricting my breath, making me lightheaded with pleasure. harry restrains one arm, and danny the other. master places His other hand on my chest to grab at some flesh to make a handle, using me like a toy for His pleasure. He increases His thrusts into me as I wail uncontrollably in ecstasy, my body convulsing with each powerful stroke, lost in a sea of sensation.

 

My eyes rolled back, that little bottle placed to my nostril, and I huff like it's my last breath; the scent of His cologne and my own musk filling my nostrils. "Oh My God uhhhhh, FUCK ME." master makes good use of me, my legs flailing about like a floundering fish, completely at His mercy. My ass spasms with each withdrawal, clenching tightly around His cock, trying to keep Him inside, never wanting this to end. "Oh my God, sir, I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum," and then I hear master say, "Here's my load, faggot." "Ughh," my ass and His cock rhythmically spasming in harmony as I explode all over master’s face and chest, my cum mixing with His sweat, a sticky mess of our combined lust. He says, "Yum. Tastes like faggot to me," as He licks His lips, savoring the taste of my release, a trophy of His conquest.

 

After a complete draining of His balls, the emptiness He leaves by His withdrawal is blatantly obvious; for I am in bliss, my hole gaping and aching from the intense fucking, feeling utterly used and satisfied. He kisses me and says, "Happy birthday, faggot." Unable to move, I remain where I am, euphoric with a tingling sensation throughout my body, my nerves still tingling from the overwhelming pleasure. I am truly a happily used faggot, marked and claimed by my master, forever changed by this encounter for I have been cunted.

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 12:09 AM

 

harry’s mentor orders him to one of the padded logs; from behind he offers harry a sniff of that bottle as his leash is reattached, and then proceeds to mount him for all to see. harry whimpers in pleasure as he maintains the number one position. With each thrust; we see him deepening his surrender to the cock inside him, his body quivering with each powerful stroke. His ass jutting out, back arched, and arms extended, offering his face for others to witness, a picture of pure submission and desire.

 

arthur is placed beside harry and mounted like his boyfriend. The two holding hands, enjoying their holes being slowly fucked on display for everyone, their moans and gasps filling the air, a symphony of pleasure and pain. Then danny and I are placed in front of them, fed the bottle, and mounted as well. The four of us, best friends since childhood, now united in our shared depravity and lust. All watch unknown masked men use each other's bodies for their pleasure and an audience stroking their cocks to our lustful submission, their eyes hungry with desire as they await their turn.

 

Looking into each other's eyes, we see something in each other that we've never noticed before. My friends are absolute degenerate faggots, and so am I. We are nothing but total sluts, allowing unknown masked men to have us without shame, our bodies mere vessels for their pleasure. We watch over each other as one man finishes inside one of us and is then quickly replaced by another who awaits their turn, our holes stretched and used, filled with their seed. We yell, "FUCK me sir, fuck my hole sir, cum in my faggot hole sir, breed me sir, I need your cum sir." We're all competing with each other to become the most depraved version of our faggot selves, our bodies aching and sore from the relentless pounding.

 

After all of my new found brothers have successfully bred us, our holes now flooded with their cum, our asses used and stretched beyond our understanding, feeling utterly both ruined and satisfied. I feel my brothers cum slowly oozing out. Little by little, no matter how hard I try to keep it inside, I can't. I see it in my friends' faces they are clenching just as I am, our bodies betraying us, wanting to keep those precious loads inside. We don't want the cum to stay in us; we NEED THE CUM TO STAY IN US.

 

Compelled by an unknown force, I found myself drawn to danny's rear, an insatiable urge to taste the forbidden driving me forward. I began to suck on his cum-filled hole, my tongue probing and exploring every crevice with a fervor that surprised even myself. The mix of flavors was intoxicating, a heady blend of our brothers' essence and the musk of his body, a potent cocktail that fueled my hunger.

 

I could feel danny's ass clenching around my tongue, his body desperate to hold onto the precious nectar inside him. But I was relentless, driven by a primal need to savor every last drop. As I sucked and licked, I felt danny's hands on my body, pulling me closer, his fingers digging into my flesh. Our moans mingled, a symphony of pleasure and desperation. We were both on the edge, our bodies trembling with the effort of holding back the inevitable.

 

I broke away briefly, my breath ragged, and looked right into danny's eyes. They were wild with desire, mirrored by my own. We fell to the ground, our bodies entwined, limbs tangled in a frenzy of need. Our hands roamed, exploring each other's asses, fingers probing and stretching, preparing for the onslaught of our tongues.

 

On the ground, we sixty-nined with a ferocity that belied our exhaustion, our tongues diving deep, seeking out every last drop of cum. The taste was overwhelming, a heady mix of salt and musk, a reminder of the primal acts that had brought us to this point. We licked and sucked, our tongues working in tandem, determined to savor every bit of our brothers' essence.

 

Arthur and Harry, inspired by our fervor, joined us on the ground, their bodies pressing against ours as we formed a tangled, writhing mass of flesh and desire. The lawn was filled with the wet sounds of our tongues and the occasional moan of pleasure, a symphony of our shared lust and submission.

 

Our hands roamed freely, forcing each other's asses open, allowing our tongues to penetrate deeper, to taste the very essence of our brothers. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain, as our bodies betrayed us, craving more even as they were pushed to the brink.

 

The world outside faded away, leaving only the here and now, the shared experience that had bonded us in a way no words could describe. Our bodies ached with the intensity of our acts, but the pleasure was worth every moment of discomfort. We were lost in a world of pure sensation, our minds and bodies forever changed by the experience.

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 02:27 AM

 

Unaware of anything but the taste and texture of danny's freshly fucked-out hole. The fire has dimmed to a flicker, the only light coming is from the moon casting an eerie glow on our entwined bodies. The tables cleared, and the area picked up, the remnants of our lustful encounter scattered about; a testament to our shared depravity. Our mentors collect us one by one, tugging at our leashes, and walk us inside the house to our assigned quarters, our bodies aching and sore, but content and satisfied with this evening.

 

When we get inside, my mentor says, "Aren't you a filthy faggot, huh, boy?" Looking down at myself, I see I'm covered in dirt and grass adhered to my body from dried cum and slobber, my skin sticky and smeared with the evidence of our lustful encounter. My knees are stained green, as is my side, the grass and earth clinging to my sweat-slick skin. My Mentor walks me into the shower, commanding me to hold my hands up as the Omega scrubs me down thoroughly, his rough hands and abrasive cloth removing the layers of grime and cum, revealing the raw, used flesh beneath.

 

My Mentor unleashes me and says, "Now scrub the Omega, then the Beta, the Alpha, and finally my mentor with his defining treasure trail." I've tasted and explored every inch of their bodies before, but now only with my hands, my fingers tracing the contours of their muscles and the curves of their asses, remembering the taste and feel of them. As I clean them, I can't help but give myself another taste here and there, my tongue darting out to lick at a particularly enticing spot, savoring the last remnants of our shared lust. All that goodness going down the drain, what a waste, I think to myself, a pang of regret washing over me as I watch the evidence of our pleasure disappear.

 

I dry them off like my parents did when I was a child; with tender loving care, my hands gentle and soothing, a stark contrast to the rough handling we've endured. Afterwards, my mentor hops into the bed and commands me to join him, his eyes heavy with lust and satisfaction, a promise of more to come. He holds my boyish body with an embrace and says, "faggot bindel, you are one of my boys now, and no harm will ever come to you." We are a pack, the five of us that is; a family of faggots, bound by our shared lust and submission.

 

I curl up on my mentor, feeling my pack brothers' flesh around me, like a dog, I am comforted by the warmth and their embrace, their bodies a haven of safety and pleasure. I pass out snuggled in their arms, feeling safe and at peace in this world, my body sated and content, ready to face whatever tomorrow may bring, together with my pack, my family, my brothers in arms and in lust.

[hntnhole]

What a fantastic representation of The Life.  You have real talent - have you been published yet?  

[verbalBTTM]

Chapter 4

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 08:00 AM

 

Rise and shine, my Mentor commands, "faggots attend to your duties, faggot bindel go to the living room, and wait with your friends." Still hooded, the men apply their efforts to breakfast. A wonderful aroma fills the air to my delight; I smell cinnamon and apples.

 

Master walks in and says, "Good morning, faggots," we all tilt our heads and say, "Good morning, Master." An Omega says to Master, "I have your coffee at your seat, sir." Master nods his approval and sits himself down. A short time passes, and a bell rings out. danny's mentor says, "Come on, faggots, breakfast time." Coffee & freshly squeezed OJ to drink; Apfelpfannkuch (German pancake) and feta cheese omelets with baby spinach, caramelized onions and home-fries pan cooked in duck fat.

 

We all chatted about last night over breakfast. The four of us were complemented for opening up so well. One of the Beta's said, "faggot worthington, your ass really sucked the cum out of my cock last night, and I thought I was pig." We took it for the complement as it was intended and lifted our glasses to being faggots.

 

harry chimed in and said, "OMG, I thought I tasted you in his hole last night," everyone giggled. Master is pleased how well we're all getting along; the Mentors say, "faggot bindel, o'connell, colencheck, worthington, dishes." We say, "Yes, sir," we collect and clean the plates together, happily serving our brothers as they did us.

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 10:00 AM

 

My Mentor grabs my leash and hands it to my Alpha and says, "Take them for a walk, faggot." I get down on my hands and knees and obediently follow his lead as we leave the men behind. On the porch, my Alpha commands me to rise, hands me my leash, and says, "Follow me."

 

We run around the property only wearing our collars and / or hoods. With our cocks flapping about in rhythm with our balls, naked as the day we were born. I feel natural in this, like this is proper and always missing. We make our way to a waterfall where my Alpha jumps off a cliff and right into a pool below. We all do this, waiting only for the person before us to clear the way. We sat on the shoreline, atop some rocks for a resting bit.

 

The four Alpha's then line us up according to our Mentor, and begin with some calisthenics. Jumping jacks, push-ups, etc.… As we go through this work out regime, the Alpha asks us, "What are we here for," we recite, "Discipline, training, mentoring, and respect." WHY faggots, "BECAUSE FAGGOTS CRAVE COCK SIR".

 

As I count out my sit-ups, I start to feel as if I had accidentally joined some secret faggot army. Alpha says, "Why would someone want to put their cock inside of your worthless faggot holes." The Beta's and Omega's start off saying, "IT IS MY DUTY TO BE FIT, SO I AM A FUCKABLE FAGGOT SIR." The Alpha's say, "What was that, faggots?" "IT IS MY DUTY TO BE FIT, SO I AM A FUCKABLE FAGGOT SIR." This repeats until we are back at the house.

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 12:30 PM

 

We make it back in time for lunch. A meal has been prepared for us by the fire pit. Turkey club sandwiches and a garden salad with some unsweetened iced tea. The boys and I notice four new men sharing the meal with us; they aren't wearing hoods, why? Master introduces us one by one as before.

 

When Master gets to me, he says, "faggot bindel, this is Dom Chris, Dom Joseph, Dom Igor, and Dom Marco. They are above your mentors, just so you understand the order of things." I Reply, "Sir, yes sir." Master says to the four men, "faggot bindel celebrated his eighteenth birthday with us last night, isn't that right, faggot bindel?" "Sir, yes sir."

 

Dom Chris is the man who made your cake, faggot. I get down on my knees before him, look up, and I say, "Thank you, sir Chris, thank you, sir." He motions me up and says, "I hope you enjoyed it, faggot." "Sir, very much, sir." He turns to my Master and says, "What a fine candidate, sir." We continue our lunch and allow some time for digestion.

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 01:15 PM

 

Master claps, we all rise awaiting our orders. "Faggots to your service, faggots bindel, worthington, colencheck, and o'connell, your duty is to bathe these men. Make them feel welcome," we reply as one.

 

"Sir, yes sir."

 

Sir Chris takes my leash, and as is expected of me, I get on my hands and knees, then follow obediently behind him into the house to another bedroom on the second floor of the house. The room is handsome with a large bed, fire, a small porch, and a reading chair with an ottoman.

Dom Chris sits down in the reading chair and says, "Faggot, go draw me a bath."

 

"Sir, yes sir." I prepare the tub, return to him and await instructions. He says, "Rub my feet, faggot."

 

Looking right in his eye, I say, "Sir, yes sir" and begin my service. This guy is hot, maybe 27, 6’ 175 pounds, blond, blue, and in shape. I take his shoes and socks off slowly.

 

Lustfully, I scan him as I rub his feet. I ask Dom Chris to be excused for a moment; he nods as I go to turn off the water. I return to the room and say, "Sir, your bath is ready, sir." He starts to undress as I say, "Excuse me, sir, please allow me."

 

I start with his motorcycle armor, which is covered in dead bugs, then I slowly lift his T-shirt, putting my face right into his armpit just for a little more than a sniff, then move my head right into the center of his chest to feel the hair on my smooth boyish face.

 

Then as I look right into his eyes, I slowly get on my knees and unbutton his pants. I peel his tight jeans off one leg at a time. Now the prize, with my teeth and tender soft hands, I pull his boxer briefs down and off as I push my face right into his crotch. Feeling his bush and breathing deeply of his scent. His penis, long, gloriously thick with a bulbous head, and a very pronounced vein on the top of his shaft.

 

I stand before him and say, "Follow me, sir." I escort him into the bathroom, where I assist him into the tub. I get the luffa sponge and begin my service to this man as he lays back. I tenderly scrub every inch of him, leaving nothing to chance. I use my hands to give a closer inspection of my work. As I'm shampooing his hair with my crotch besides his face, he grabs my ass with his left hand and invites me into his bath. Dom Chris unplugs the drain and turns the water back on.

Dom Chris said, "I prefer the room a little steamy, and this water could use some freshening." Smiling, I ask if I may rub him so that he might be able to relax. He nods his approval, and I begin with his shoulders. I pull myself closer to him, finally feeling his soft short beard rubbing on my face. My delicate hands starting from the top of his crack slowly making their way up past his neck. Having him in my arms, I return to his shoulders where I find a knot.

 

I ask Dom Chris if I may please sit behind him to apply the proper pressure. With his deep and commanding voice, he says, "No, that's ok, you're doing just fine where you are, faggot."

 

Dom Chris commands me to sit back and put my legs up on the sides of the tub. of course; I obey without hesitation. With his rough and callused hands, he feels my long slender legs falling on the outside and back towards him once he hits my back side. My cock is hard with its head poking out of the water. He notices my arousal and smiles.

 

As I stare into his deep blue eyes, I ask if there's anything I may offer him. A beverage, a towel, me perhaps? Tempted by my offer, he pulls my legs towards him and feels his way down to my nether region. His cock now pressed against my pink hole, pulls me in a tad further. I feel him enter me a smidge, my eyes opening wide now, "I say thank you, sir, I offer myself freely for you to enjoy, please accept my submission to you, sir."

 

Dom Chris says, "Just you wait, faggot." As he gets up and slaps his wet cock all over my face with his hairy balls rubbing on my lips. He looks down and says, "Open your mouth, faggot." I obey as he grabs the back of my head and spits in my mouth. Without blinking, I swallow and await his anything. Dom Chris smiles as his hands come to my armpits and begins to lift me upwards. He forces my head to the side as he sucks on my neck up and down. I'm panting like an overheated dog; with my erection distancing me from his complete embrace.

 

Dom Chris spins me around with a firm grip, his hands strong and demanding. He bends me over the edge of the tub, my body yielding to his dominance. Dom Chris says, "Offer me your hole, faggot." I eagerly obey, offering him my tender backside in an arching manner. His fingers dig into my flesh as he forces my legs apart, exposing me completely, leaving me vulnerable and at his mercy. I grab the sides of the tub, my knuckles white with the effort, bracing myself for what's to come.

 

He slaps his cock on my moist spot as I gasp. He then gets on his knees, separating my cheeks, revealing my special place, and starts to suck with his lips on the sides of my hole. Up and down, either side, over and over. My gasps grow with intensity as I reveal my true submissive nature to him.

 

He then begins to taste me, slowly offering me his strength upon my tender young fleshy buttocks. His tongue probes what's left of my innocence. As my whimpers transform into uncontrollable pants, I utter in submission, my hole is yours, sir.

 

This excites him as his probing deepens inside of me with a stronger separation of my cheeks. His beard softly rubs my revealed tenderness as his probing continues. His hands releasing my cheeks, slowly feel up my chest. He ceases his exploration and pulls me back to him, holding me in his embrace. My head dips back to offer myself as I feel his still-wet hairs brush me. He says, "Get a towel, faggot" as his cock glides over my offered fuck-hole.

 

I reach for a towel and begin to dry our two bodies molded as one, as I had always dreamt. Mostly dry now, he gets out, then picks me up by my hind quarters and pulls me in. With both arms, I grab around his shoulders, locking both arms around his back. My legs wrapped around his torso like a snake. He carries me back to the room with him sucking at the side of my neck. Holding my ass cheeks apart, offering a slight gentle breeze upon my hole, which gives a welcomed tingle.

 

He throws me down and forces my arms up as he sucks on my armpit. Unable to respond, my legs instinctively rise as they spread. Completely on offer for him, his tongue probes down my chest with his nibbles. The few hairs that I have developed thus far are pulled by his tongue. I offer no resistance to his attempts; I eagerly await any abuse he wishes to inflict upon me. Dripping precum like a leaky faucet, my hunger grows for this man: God please let me have him tonight.

 

He makes his way to my member and tastes my urethral emissions. Much to his delight, he enjoys my member going all the way down on me. He gives me a tonguing on my shaft as he puts my legs down. He turns his body, forcing his champion into my needing mouth. As I choke on his cock, he lovingly sucks on mine. He forces my legs back as he deep throats me.

 

Sucking my remaining teenage innocence down without hesitation, his callused hands rough up my offered prize with their entrance. So, he applies lube to his cocks new home as I moan in relief that my tender young flesh is to his liking. With each thrust of his, my throat gives way to his force. With my phlegm flowing like bubbling spring, he fucks my face harder. My head, buried in this mattress gave up long ago, and allows the continuous assault to occur unimpeded.

 

He pulls himself off of me, sensing that I am on the brink of release, his control over my pleasure unyielding. Stepping off the bed, he grabs my ankles with a firm grip, his touch both dominant and possessive. He pulls me towards him, my body yielding to his command as he enters my surrendered territory with the ferocity of a liberated city, welcomed with delight and submission.

 

He enters and exits me in a twisting fashion. Unable to control myself, I beg him for more. With my arms still up and my mouth open, whimpering in my bliss. He commands me to clench my hole. He notices my efforts and smiles as I feel his excitement grow with his veracity of his cock hammering my hole. He looks in my eyes and sees me reveling in delight and pain. He gives a powerful slamming thrust.

 

His thrusts are challenging, pushing me to my limits, and my noises are involuntary, a symphony of pleasure and pain that fills the air. Each movement is a claim, a reminder of his power and my surrender. I am his to command, his to use, and I revel in the intensity of the moment.

 

He enters and exits me in a twisting fashion, his cock exploring every inch of my depths, driving me wild with desire. Unable to control myself, I beg for more, my voice a desperate, pleading whimper. "More, please, more," I cry out, my arms still braced against the tub, my body trembling with need and ecstasy.

 

Dom Chris commands me to clench my hole, his voice firm and unyielding. I obey, my muscles tightening around him, gripping him with all my strength. He notices my efforts, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he feels my hole clench around his cock. His excitement grows, his thrusts becoming more vigorous, more intense, his cock hammering into me with renewed ferocity.

 

I beg for his load like a proper faggot, my voice a desperate, plead. "Cum in my ass, sir, mark me as your territory." The words tumble from my lips, a mix of submission and desire, as I offer myself completely to him. I see his eyes widen with resolve, a primal hunger ignited within him, and I know that I have pushed him to the edge, to the point of no return.

 

Just then, that glorious sound escapes his mouth, a roar of pure, unbridled pleasure. His eyes roll back, and his body tenses, every muscle coiled and ready to release. In that moment, he is a god, a master of his domain, and I am his willing sacrifice, his vessel for pleasure and submission.

 

He empties his balls inside me, his cock pulsing with each powerful jet of cum, filling me completely, stretching me to my limits. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain, as his essence marks me, claims me, makes me his. I can feel the warmth of his load, the sticky, thick liquid coating my insides, a testament to his dominance and my surrender.

 

He collapses atop me, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. We are both exhausted, spent from the intensity of our acts, but there is a profound sense of satisfaction, a completion that leaves us both sated and content. I thank you, dear God, for you have delivered me to this moment, this place of pure, unfiltered bliss.

 

Together, we snuggle up, our bodies entwined, finding comfort in each other's embrace. The world outside fades away, leaving only the here and now, the shared experience that has bonded us, the pleasure and pain that define us. We drift off into a brief, much-needed nap, our bodies and minds at peace, ready to face whatever comes next, together.

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 05:00 PM

 

As always, this weekend anyway, I'm led by my leash outside to the patio and pool area, an exquisitely curated oasis with an emphasis on relaxation and aesthetics. A generously-sized pool, a kitchen grill station, a fully stocked bar, and enough seating for any occasion. Fantasy Island has nothing on this place, I think with a smile, as I notice my tenderized rump. I spot my Mentor over at the bar; can't mistake that happy trail with anyone else.

Master lays down on one of the lounge recliners, enjoying a cocktail with the Doms. "Guys, please help yourselves to the bar," he says, pointing towards the Red Oak tree. Capital idea; looks like I have little choice but to indulge, myself yet again.

 

I head to the bar and see about a Margarita. My Mentor notices me struggling to salt the rim. With an open hand, he grabs my chest, pulls me in and whispers, "faggot bindel, you know how to eat an ass like the best of us. Why are you having an issue rimming this glass?", As his cock meat stuffs itself between my buns expertly.

 

With his other hand, he takes the glass from me, opens the sponge tray; just then it clicks for me. "Thank you for your instruction, sir. May I pour you one as well?" Without moving, he grabs his glass and slowly says, "Fill me up, faggot." I am never leaving this place, ever. "Yes, sir, with pleasure, sir."

 

We retreat to one of the smaller tables by the pool as he leads me by my collar. We sit and talk about where we're from, and then he asks, "You're pretty young for this lifestyle, what brought you into it?" I told him about the ad I saw online and say, "When I read about the control part, I was turned on. The rest of the text only reassured me of my suspicions. I really like the dynamic of how you give of yourself in trust. How it's not about merely sex; it's about a way of life; the sex just comes with the lifestyle." He nods thoughtfully, and then with a soft smile, he shares, "Submission is trust offered, and the control is love given."

 

He nods in agreement and says, "Yeah, sex is boring compared to this. I can't even think about meaningless one-night stands. With this, I either take or give fully with a man. No half measures, no holding back." As the rest of our pack joins us, and we continue the conversation, exploring each other's appreciation for the lifestyle and the code. As our are almost depleted, the Omega gets up, and I say, "Excuse me, sir. I do believe I'm the one in need of more experience. Please allow me to attend to this matter sir."

 

As I start up on the drinks, Master, wearing an apron, is messing with the grill. He says, "faggot bindel, how are you enjoying yourself?" "Oh, just fine, sir. Thank you for having me, sir, as well as having me over, sir." As I cheekily show my backside. He smiles and asks if I could freshen him up. I smile and say, "Every way that I can for you, sir." Smiling, he replies, "Just the drink for now, faggot, for now."

 

The men, Dom Igor and Dom Joseph, take notice of my flirting and don't attempt to hide it. Dom Joseph asks, "How do I like my meat?" I devilishly smile at them, slightly gaze down, then back up. "For a steak like that, just finished screaming with a bit of char, sir," looking back down at their crotches, "raw, as God intended, sir." The three men laugh at my advance and reply, "The night is young, just like you." I raise my glass and say, "Indeed," with my boyish smirk. I collect the drinks I just made, excuse myself, and return towards the table. I overhear Dom Joseph ask Master, "Well, how was he?" Master replies, "Very choice." I smile, for I'm as giddy as a schoolboy.

 

A little time passes, and Dom Igor approaches and says, "Faggot bindel," (in a moderately thick Russian accent) "come with me." "Yes, sir," as I excuse myself from the table. Dom Igor grabs me by my cock and balls and leads me back to the grill. He hands me a steak and a baked potato smothered in butter, absolutely perfect on a plate, and says, "This won't be the only meat you get tonight, faggot." I reply, "I certainly hope not, sir," as I smile with blushed cheeks. One by one, Master serves up steaks to the gang.

 

After dinner is finished, we continue to enjoy the patio, the libations flow freely as our conversations carry on. What began as a gentle breeze grows wild, and begins to spoil the mood.

[hntnhole]

You're really a first-class storyteller ... particularly on subjects like this one.  I hope you publish one of these days; you owe your talents to an even wider audience. 

[verbalBTTM]

Chapter 5

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 08:21 PM

 

A tercentennial storm sweeps in from the west over the Gunks, forcing us to scramble and pack away the gear for our gracious host. Soaked and shivering, we gather in the living room, our naked bodies dripping onto the floor. The Mentors pass out towels, their calm gestures easing our discomfort. The air shifts when Master’s voice cuts through, sharp and commanding: “Dom's, prepare the room.” It’s a call to battle stations, and the Dom's move with purpose, converging on a bookcase that slides open to reveal a hidden passage. They vanish behind it, the door sealing shut with a soft thud.

 

A faint mechanical hum rises from beneath the floor, stirring a mix of wonder and anticipation in my chest. One of the Alphas catches my gaze, his wink laced with a promise of forbidden pleasures, his eyes holding mine with unspoken intent.

 

Master somehow reappears from the kitchen and claps, his presence commanding the room. “Mentors, escort the pledges blindfolded with their packs,” he orders. My Mentor retrieves four blindfolds from a chest beside a celestial globe, handing them out with quiet efficiency. The soft fabric slips over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. Anticipation thrums through me, my trust in the moment unshaken as my Mentor tugs my leash, guiding me down a narrow staircase. The faint pulse of music grows louder, its throbbing beat setting a primal tone for what lies ahead.

 

We enter a new space, and the Mentors position us one by one. The only sounds are the soft shuffle of feet and the rhythm of the music, wrapping around us like a pulse. A sharp clap from Master no doubt echoes, and my blindfold is removed. My eyes adjust to a hazy room bathed in warm, dim red light, the air thick with the promise of debauchery, the stage set for the night’s unraveling desires.

The basement sprawls like a labyrinth, its stone and mortar walls forming a maze of shadowed chambers designed for carnal indulgence. Exposed wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, interwoven with plumbing pipes that lend a raw, industrial edge. Victorian-era iron pillars stand as silent sentinels, ready to witness the night’s unfolding desires.

 

Mirrors and sultry red lights adorn the walls and ceiling, casting a seductive glow that amplifies every movement, turning the space into a theater of visual temptation. Leather slings sway from the ceiling, while fisting benches, bolted firmly to the floor, promise intense encounters. Along the walls, leather banquettes and over sized chaise lounges invite submission, their surfaces beckoning the most depraved fantasies into reality.

 

In a dimly lit corner, a tiled chamber hums with forbidden allure. Steel rails, bolted to the ceiling and just above the floor, offer endless possibilities for restraint. A single drain in the center of the floor stands ready to catch the night’s excesses. Nearby, a mahogany bar with mirrored backing glows softly, its liquor bottles and glassware illuminated by the only white light in the space—a stark contrast to the room’s otherwise primal ambiance.

 

Master’s voice cuts through the air, naming us with a deliberate edge: “faggot bindel, faggot o’connell, faggot colencheck, faggot worthington.” He commands us to crawl toward him. On hands and knees, we move in total submission through a corridor of our brothers, their bodies forming a living gauntlet leading to the bar where Master waits, a Scotch in hand, flanked by the Dom's. With a nod, he signals us to rise. “Welcome to the Licentiousness Lounge,” he declares, “where your darkest desires are not just accepted—they’re celebrated.”

 

My eyes sweep the room, taking in a world both foreign and intoxicating. “This is the Licentiousness Lounge,” Master continues, “a sanctuary where what happens here remains unspoken beyond these walls—not as a secret among us, but as a pact against the outside world. The storm tonight has brought you here sooner than planned, but I feel you’re ready to begin.”

 

 

The Dom's pass us drinks, their gazes lingering, appraising us with unspoken intent. Master’s voice softens but retains its authority. “Tonight, you remain faggots, bound by protocol. But know this: the next time you enter this space, you’ll stand as equals among us, brothers in a tribe where masks conceal identities and unleash our true selves. Here, you may indulge without restraint.”

 

He tugs our leashes, two in each hand, guiding us through the lounge’s offerings. “These are slings, Faggot bindel,” he says, a knowing glint in his eye. “You remember these, don’t you?” I nod, a smile breaking free. “Yes, Sir.” He gestures to the fisting benches. “These aren’t for you yet.” We pass a St. Andrew’s Cross, its arms ready to bind and expose, and a sitters’ sling that seems to hum with promise. “Restraints, floggers, ropes—every tool for pleasure and pain awaits you here,” he says.

 

We pause at the watersports room, its tiled expanse both intriguing and unsettling. “If you need to relieve yourself,” Master explains, “and a brother kneels or lies before you, share your warmth. Don’t waste it.” The idea stirs a mix of confusion and curiosity, my gaze lingering on the drain as I grapple with its implications.

The tour continues to a lounge area where U-bolts gleam above leather banquettes, their purpose clear in the dim light. Oversized chaise lounges and ottomans, scattered purposefully, whisper of past encounters—each piece a canvas for unspoken debauchery. As Master explains their functions, a new world unfurls before me, thrilling and terrifying. I’m eager to surrender to this brotherhood, to explore the depths of my desires in ways I never dared imagine.

 

The tour ends where it began. Overwhelmed with lust and reverence, we four kneel before Master, our leashes extended in offering. One by one, we declare ourselves to the room. “I am faggot bindel,” I say, voice steady despite the fire within. “and I am a worthless faggot. I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect Sir.”

 

Danny, a towering figure of raw strength, succumbs to Dom Igor’s commanding presence, his eyes locked in a blaze of arousal. Kneeling without breaking eye contact, he grips my leash and offers both to Dom Igor as a tribute. “Please, Sir,” Danny declares, his voice steady with devotion, “accept my submission. I am a hole for your pleasure, ready to serve, obey, and be used as you see fit.”

 

Dom Igor, flanked by an Alpha and a Beta, surveys us with approval, their expressions gleaming at our growing understanding of our place. With a clink of metal links, they claim our leashes and lead us from the lounge’s sultry warmth into a stark, tiled chamber—their chosen arena for testing our surrender. The cold floor bites our knees as we’re restrained by ankle cuffs near the ground, our leashes tugged upward to meet the silhouettes of Dom Igor, his Beta, and the Alpha.

 

“Position one,” they command, “mouths open.” We kneel, anticipation pulsing through us. A warm stream cascades over our faces and backsides, their urine marking us one by one. Our bodies quiver with a heady mix of shame and thrill, embracing this shocking act of submission. We lap up the acrid warmth, savoring every drop, the filth igniting a strange, intoxicating surrender.

 

A dominant steps forward, slapping my ass and signaling position two—bent forward, exposed. His lubed finger circles my entrance, preparing me with deliberate care. Beside me, Danny’s eyes burn with need as a tongue explores his hole. Our moans echo, tempting the men, our bodies trembling with desire. A thick cock enters me without warning, the pleasurable pain tearing a cry from my throat that electrifies the room. Spurred by my reaction, the dominant slaps my ass again, my spasms tightening around him as he claims me. Danny mirrors my surrender, lost in his own ecstasy.

 

A new sensation builds as the man inside me pauses, a warm flood filling my core. Unable to clench tightly enough, I feel his urine spill, trickling down my taint, over my balls, and along the sides of my slender legs. (I’m a disgusting pig), I think, (and I’m exactly where I belong). Another dominant seizes my face, thrusting into my throat. His urine overflows, streaming down my chin and chest, marking me as his. Spit-roasted, I revel in my depravity, my moans of ecstasy resonating through the tiled chamber. Danny, transformed beside me, laps at the dripping offering before pressing his lips to a man’s hole, eager to prove his worth.

 

Our moans, entwined with the men’s pleasure, freeze us in a moment of pure surrender. Our neglected cocks drip uselessly onto the cold tiles, our bodies aching with need. A silhouette approaches, drawn to our filth, and unleashes a fresh shower of urine as we’re used at both ends, our bodies trembling like a depraved altar of service.

 

“Next,” he growls, and my hole twitches in anticipation, clenching to hasten the man inside me. Danny mirrors my urgency, enticing our tops to climax. Their cocks pulse, filling us with warm, creamy seed. I savor the softening cock within me, clenching to hold its gift, a perfect lubricant for the next. The man in my throat releases, his cum flooding my mouth, satisfying the craving I’ve come to embrace. As he withdraws, I catch sight of Harry and Arthur on leather chaise lounges, railed mercilessly, with more men waiting their turn. My mind reels at the depravity surrounding us.

 

Left alone, Danny and I crave more. We collapse ourselves into a sixty-nine position on the cold tiled floor, greedily sucking the potent cum from each other’s holes which we gladly spread ourselves open for each other, the taste so rich and overwhelming. A new dominant enters, his stream spraying us like a suburban lawn going side to side while adding to the puddle of waste around us, but he doesn’t dare interrupt our fervor. Content in our filth, we call out, our muffled voices a raw offering to the room.

 

Dom Igor thoroughly pleased how we've embraced our submission, orders us to stand with our arms up as he removes our ankle restraints. Unshackled now, we stand chest to chest, as he hoses us clean with icy water that jolts our senses. He throws us a towel each watching us pat each other down

 

Once dry we're led to the fisting benches, we obey the command to lay down. Danny’s panting betrays his calm still, as a tongue is at his hole, and I glance back to see him spreading himself for the masked dominant, savoring the remnants of my slobber and the cum within. Once hesitant, Danny now craves the cock that fills his newfound void, just as I do. From shy newcomers drawn by a cryptic ad, we’ve become cumdumps, bound by our shared hunger, eager to serve the desires of our brothers.

 

In the haze of the dungeon, danny the reserved hulking member of our group, sweat-slicked muscles taut, eyes burning with lust, with shadowy figures beginning to circling us, he reaches back with both hands to spread his cheeks apart, fully on offer as a beacon of desire. Like me, he’s discovered the void within—a hunger only a raw cock can fill. Last night, he surrendered to men who claimed him with fierce love, and I beam with pride for my lifelong friend. We were shy boys once, guarding our secrets, but together we’ve become cumdumps, eager for any man’s pleasure.

 

Just then, harry and walter are carried over to the slings in front of us. Arthur and I lock eyes as our faces are hovering over each other, we know exactly what the other is thinking, we're both glad I responded to that ad. arthur and I infinitely excited by our predicament begin kissing as a bottle is offered to our noses, we both breathe deeply from its emissions. Now lust fueled on poppers, we begin to kiss with desperate need.

 

Suddenly, and as if ordained, both of our holes are suddenly filled by generous thrusts of sizable mention. While locking tongues, we start to moan in each other's mouth as our hands grab furiously at each other heads. I then extend my left hand out as if in search of my glasses and notice harry and danny doing the same as arthur and I. Again, the four of us, youthful and barely experienced twinks, united again with our holes out on offer being pounded out by many unknown men. With poppers constantly being fed to us, we are insatiable in our wants as we don't dare to stop these strange men from having their way with us, completely willing to be used and abused in any way these men desire.

 

We have found Shangri-La, and it's inside of each of us, and our submission is the pathway that leads us there. Content as a Buddhist monk in our enviable bliss, which is unmatched by any previous experience we’ve had before. (I'm so glad I had the courage to face my desires, together with my friends we will explore every dark corner of each others raw desires.)

 

End of Chapter 5

 

 

[backpackguy]

"We have found Shangri-La, it's inside each of us...our submission is the pathway that leads us there."  Fuck, verbal...luv this story...bindel's submission and the offering of his holes to his Doms and Alphas is the hoped for story of my life as a faggot-cumdump in-training!! Ass up, face down faggot!!🍆💦☣️☣️🐽😈😋😛

[verbalBTTM]

Chapter 6

 

After a respectable number of men have blessed our holes with their relentless cocks, the four of us—danny, harry, arthur, and I—collapse onto the sticky, grime-slicked floor, forming a depraved, impassable circle. Our hungry mouths dive into each other’s holes, sucking with a feral intensity that echoes through the musky labyrinth. My tongue burrows deep into my best friend’s ass, chasing the hard-to-reach treasure of cum and sweat buried in his tender depths. Our bodies quiver with each ravenous lick and slurp, the air thick with the wet sounds of our debauchery. I hear Master’s heavy breathing, a low, primal growl, as he watches us devour one another like starved animals in this sleazy pit.

 

My eyes flick upward, catching Master and Dom Igor stroking their thick, throbbing cocks, their gazes locked on our writhing circle. They notice my desperate glance and exchange a wicked smile. Master’s voice cuts through the haze, “See what I mean.” Dom Igor, his eyes gleaming with lustful confirmation, murmurs, “We should…” as their voices drop to a conspiratorial whisper, plotting something filthy. My stare lingers, my slender twink frame trembling with anticipation, yearning for what these two beasts might do to me.

 

Master interrupts our butt-munching faggot circle, yanking arthur from the floor with a possessive grip. He drags him to a chaise lounge, ready to savor his tender, now broken-in hole. Dom Igor follows, a predatory grin splitting his face. Master settles into the chair, holding arthur up by his armpits like a rag-doll, slowly impaling him on his beastly, lube-slicked cock. arthur’s hole yields with a soft whimper, swallowing Master’s girth as Dom Igor binds each of arthur’s wrists with leather restraints and coarse rope, fastening them to hooks in the ceiling above. His arms are spread wide, forcing his sweat-soaked body into complete surrender, a helpless offering to these insatiable men in the flickering, cum-stained glow of the room.

 

Meanwhile, danny, harry, and I remain on the floor, our mouths still working each other’s holes, tongues plunging deeper, driven by a insatiable hunger. The room reeks of sex and surrender, our moans blending with arthur’s gasps as Master and Dom Igor take turns ravaging his trembling frame. My eyes dart back to them, my body aching to be next, to be torn apart and claimed in this grimy paradise. Thank you, oh Lord, for guiding me to this sleazy heaven, where my parents think I’m camping. Happy fucking birthday to me.

 

Then a Mentor and an Omega stalk over, their eyes locked on harry as if he’s their prize in this sordid game. They snatch him from our filthy circle, his body still trembling from the tongue-fucking, and whisk him toward the Saint Andrew’s cross in the corner. The Mentor’s grin is all teeth, predatory and dripping with intent, while the Omega trails behind, clutching a bottle of poppers and a coil of leather straps.

 

Another man, an Omega, kneels before me, slurping greedily on my cock, savoring every slick drop of my precum as it starts to ooze from the tip. His tongue swirls, desperate for more, while his eyes glaze over in submissive bliss. I glance over to see harry, bound tight to the Saint Andrew’s cross, leather cuffs biting into his wrists, held firm by a Mentor and an Omega. His boyfriend, arthur, is being manhandled, forced to impale himself on Master’s throbbing cock, hoisted up and down like a filthy rag-doll in a seedy backroom. The air’s thick with sweat and lust, and harry’s jealousy burns raw, his eyes narrowing as he watches his lover’s hole get claimed. Just then, Dom Igor saunters in, a predatory grin on his face, joining Master to ravage arthur’s trembling flesh, their hands groping every inch of his surrendered body, mind, and soul in a haze of depravity.

 

The two men feast on arthur’s tight, young hole, slick with lube and desperation. One cock slams in as the other pulls out, a relentless rhythm that echoes through the dim, musky room. arthur, usually a strict top, now writhes in ecstasy, his wrists bound by coarse ropes hooked above, his face a mix of shame and surrender. These two beasts take him apart, forcing him to face harry while they fuck him like a cheap toy. His eyes roll back, whites flashing, drool spilling from his slack mouth as he howls, lost in the pleasure of being used. His body jerks limply, a plaything for their insatiable cocks, his soul laid bare in this sleazy dungeon of desire.

Not one to let a faggot go to waste, a Mentor struts back over to harry's front side, a wicked glint in his eye, trailed by an Omega clutching a bottle of poppers. Helpless, harry’s cock twitches as the Mentor drops to his knees, swallowing him whole while probing his tight hole with a slick finger. harry, a lifelong bottom, surrenders instantly as the Omega forces poppers under his nose, the chemical rush melting his resistance. His hole clenches, then blooms, begging for more. The Mentor, reading his squirming body like a filthy book, widens his circling finger, then slides in two, then three, stretching harry’s eager ass in the flickering light of this sordid scene.

 

Still unsatisfied, harry’s voice cracks as he begs, “I need more, sir, stretch my fuck hole, sir.” His plea is raw, like a wounded animal whining for release in this den of debauchery. The Mentor smirks, feeding him four fingers, but harry’s greedy hole demands more. Another hit of poppers from the Omega, and harry’s squatting now, thrusting desperately, trying to fuck himself on the Mentor’s hand like it’s his boyfriend’s cock. “Give me more, please, sir,” he screams, “I beg you, sir, feed my fuck hole, sir.” The Mentor, delighted by this pathetic display, tucks his thumb in, reshaping his hand into a slick, narrow wedge. With a generous slather of lube, he pushes deeper into harry’s quivering cavity, the room reeking of sex and surrender.

 

A crowd gathers, drawn to harry’s depraved cries, watching his ass swallow the Mentor’s hand inch by filthy inch. His face twists in gleeful bliss, arms straining against the ropes, legs shaking uncontrollably. A deep, guttural exhale rips from his throat as the Mentor’s fist breaches him fully. harry’s torso juts forward, welcoming the invasion. Poppered up again by the Omega, he’s a drooling, shaking mess, his hole stretched wide, craving more. The Mentor twists his hand inside, and harry’s moans drown out the room’s sleazy hum. “Push your hole out, faggot, PUSH… PUSH FAGGOT!” the Mentor growls. harry’s head slams back, eyes and mouth wide, as if witnessing gods descent. His drool cascading onto his chest as a primal, bassy roar—OHHHHHH FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK—echoes through the labyrinth, a sound so raw it barely seems human.

 

No one can look away from this obscene spectacle. The Mentor’s fist is buried deep, harry’s body a twitching puppet on his wrist. The Mentor’s eyes lock with harry’s, a silent exchange of dominance and gratitude, before he twists his hand again, sending harry into another spiral of impossible bliss. Drool spills, his cock leaks, his body spasms to the rhythm of the Mentor’s slightest movements, played like a filthy fiddle in this grimy underworld. harry’s hole, stretched to its limits, knows this is where it belongs. Even danny’s massive cock, a beast that’d break most, couldn’t sate harry’s true hunger. Now, with his eyes vacant and his face screaming spiritual awakening, he chants, “FUCK MY CUNT OUT, SIR,” over and over, a glistening twink boy drenched in sweat and drool, reborn in the depths of his wrecked asshole.

 

Driven by raw, wanton lust, harry’s rectum seems bottomless, a gaping void of need. Jealousy flickers as he glances at arthur, double-penetrated by Master and Dom Igor, their cocks pistoning like tools in a filthy workshop, arthur’s mind lost to the world. danny and I, watching this debauched scene, lock eyes, a silent pact that there’s more to conquer beyond our own horizons. We drop to the grimy floor, asses pressed together, feet touching, holes spread wide, begging for anyone to claim us in this sleazy pit of desire.

 

An Omega, still licking the precum from my cock, notices our desperate display and dives in. One finger, then two, then three, my precum flowing like a faucet as he stretches me. He turns to danny for his own pepsi taste test, impaling himself on danny’s massive, ass-destroying cock, pushing until he hits a limit—danny snarls, refusing to accept. A towering figure, danny grabs the Omega’s head, commanding him to dig deeper into our fuck holes and down his cock. “Open our holes up, faggot, feed our cunts,” I chant in chorus, my hunger a gnawing void. An Alpha strides over, forcing poppers under our noses, the chemical burn fueling our depravity.

 

A Beta joins, latching onto my needy cock, sucking with fervor. The four of us, lost in lust-fueled chaos, revel in our filth, a proud display for our brothers in this dank maze. Dom Marcus positions himself above me, as if doing push-ups, and rams his generous cock down my wanting throat, muffling my moans. He shoves the Beta aside, grabs my thighs, and yanks my legs back, circling a chubby lubed finger in my hole. Unsatisfied, he hoists me up like a sack of potatoes, planting me on all fours, my face buried in the Omega’s fucked open hole while my ass gapes for him. Lubed by my own slobber, he slams his cock in, each thrust a brutal jolt that leaves my limbs trembling and numb in this sleazy haze. danny, seeing me unravel, grips my wrists, holding me steady as I begin to shake apart.

 

Dom Marcus is a god in this moment, giving me exactly what my filthy soul craves. (God, how I wish someone would piss on me.) My torso collapses to the cold floor, unable to do anything but take his unrelenting thrusts. Mindless, used, drooling into a puddle of my own spit, I mumble gibberish, content in my blissful ruin. Then comes the final thrust—a torrential flood of hot, thick cum surges into me, pulsing with his heartbeat, searing my insides with liquid fire. Each spurt stretches me further, my muscles clenching to hold it in, claiming this fleeting mark of ownership.

 

My body quakes, nerves sparking, a raw jolt shooting from my wrecked hole up my spine, leaving me gasping in the dim, sweaty glow of the labyrinth. As he pulls out, his cum dribbles slowly, tickling my raw flesh with each warm drop as it descends. I collapse, silent, head to the side, drooling with a vacant, fucked-out stare, my sweat-soaked body a testament to my surrender.

 

Dom Marcus, seeing my lifeless state, scoops me up and carries me to a chaise lounge, sparing me the cold floor. Once layed to rest, an Omega flips me over like a spit-roasted pig, spreading my limp legs and parting my cheeks to feast on my hole, chasing Dom Marcus’s seed. It’s buried so deep, no tongue can reach it, but his relentless sucking pulls me deeper into surrender. Drop by drop, the cum oozes out, teasing my ravaged insides as his tongue probes further than I thought possible. harry, placed beside me, grabs my hand, his eyes wide with disbelief as we lie there, spread out like a buffet for these ravenous Omegas. God bless their insatiable hunger; it feels divine, and I pray it never ends as I drool, lost in this haze, my eyes nearly lifeless.

 

Thank you, oh Lord, for guiding me to this sleazy paradise, this grimy heaven on earth where I told my parents I’d be camping. Happy fucking birthday to me.

 

 

 

Saturday, June 26, 1993, 11:23 PM

My Mentor approaches with a glass of lemonade, its cool tang a welcome relief. He settles beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders. I lean into his warmth, craving the comfort of his presence after the night’s intensity.

 

“You did well tonight,” he says, voice low and proud. “Really well. I didn’t expect someone so young to embrace it like that.”

 

I tilt my head, meeting his gaze. “Embrace what?”

 

He smiles softly. “Your freedom. Your openness to explore. Most guys hold back, but you dove in. I’m proud of you.”

 

His words spark warmth in my chest. “With you all, I feel safe,” I admit. “Safer than I’ve ever felt.”

 

Mentor replies, "This is about more than just physical pleasure; it's about the trust and devotion we share. When you submit to me, you're placing your faith in my care, and that's a profound act of love. In return, my guidance and control are a testament to my commitment to you. I'm here to watch over you, much like a protective older brother would."

 

The Beta approaches, his grin easy. “Mind if I join?”

 

Mentor waves him over, and the Beta slides in on my right, enveloping me in warmth. His hand grazes my belly, then strokes my hair, making me feel like a cherished pup. “You’ve blown us away,” he says.

 

“What were you expecting?” I ask, curious.

 

Mentor chuckles. “You’re a pledge. We don’t expect much at this stage. But you’ve got potential.”

 

“When’s the next gathering?” I press, eager.

 

The Beta’s fingers intertwine with mine, resting on Mentor’s torso. “That’s for you to decide,” Mentor says. “This life has to feel right for you.”

 

“I’m having a blast,” I say, grinning. “And not just because of the sex.”

 

“Good,” the Beta replies, his tone warm. “You’re one of us now.”

 

I press a gentle kiss to Mentor’s bicep, a quiet thank you. He adds, “You need some polishing, though. A bit rough around the edges. But we’ll get there.”

 

Master strides by, Scotch in hand, his presence commanding. “faggot worthington,” he says, “I hope we didn’t push you too hard earlier.”

 

arthur, lounging nearby, smirks. “No, Sir. That was incredible. I’ve never been fucked like that.”

 

Master’s lips curl into a smile as he leans down, planting a Scotch-tinged kiss on arthur’s forehead. He checks on us briefly before sauntering off, his confidence magnetic.

 

My eyelids grow heavy, and Mentor notices. He guides me to the bedroom, where we collapse in each other’s arms, soon joined by the pack, our bodies a tangle of warmth and trust.

 

 

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 07:16 AM

 

Sunlight streams through the windows, warming my skin as I wake, cocooned by my pack brothers. I feel both trapped and secure, surrounded by their steady breathing. With them, I can let my guard down, like a child safe with family.

 

Their acceptance emboldens me to face desires I once buried. Mentor catches me staring out the window, kisses my forehead, and murmurs, “Good morning.” I smile, reaching for his hand, sharing a quiet joy. The Omega stirs, growling softly as he clutches me, demanding my touch. It’s 08:03, and we rise for our ritual shower.

 

We lather each other with care, hands gliding over every inch, a perverse act of love. Clean and dry, we tidy Master’s house, a gesture of respect.

 

We divide into teams: one preps breakfast, while my group ventures into the forest to gather wild blueberries, ripe and abundant. Thorns snag my skin, but I pick with focus, returning with a brimming haul. I rinse the berries as the griddle sizzles, and soon we serve wild blueberry pancakes and sausage—a feast laced with playful innuendo.

 

Over breakfast, we relive last night, harry’s fervor stealing the spotlight. “What a pig,” someone laughs, recalling his desperate pleas for his Mentor’s fist. Master, smirking, adds, “Next time, boy, Dom Marko and I will handle your needs.” harry’s eyes blaze with anticipation, locked on Master’s.

 

 

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 09:22 AM

 

Master gathers us, his voice firm. “You faggots face a choice: reaffirm your oath to us forever or walk away. This commitment isn’t light. The path ahead holds challenges, responsibilities to us, yourselves, and the community. Your dedication must be unwavering. Take some time to decide.”

 

He removes our collars, leaving us to reflect. We four—Danny, Harry, Arthur, and I wander into the woods, the sound of rustling leaves beneath their feet. They discuss what they've learned and how they've changed, they unravel the revelations of their weekend, each confession a mirror reflecting their transformed souls. What they’ve learned is not mere knowledge but a seismic shift in being, as they ponder the depths of their newfound self-awareness. Unsure of the road ahead, they contemplate the pitfalls that might lie in wait, their hearts heavy with the weight of uncertainty. The scent of pine needles dominating their senses, each step they take feels like a journey into the unknown, a path that promises both danger and transformation.

 

When they reach the cliff, the boys gaze at the waters below. Harry speaks, his voice a mix of awe and trepidation: “I would have never jumped this before.” Arthur nods in agreement. Danny adds, “I might have on a dare, but with these guys, I had no fear.” The four nod, a silent understanding passing between them.

 

Suddenly, Dietrich leaps off the cliff into the waters below, his scream of exhilaration echoing through the canyon. “Come on, guys, we’ve made it this far,” he shouts, his voice rising over the soothing rush of the water. The three exchange glances, hearts pounding, and jump together. The cold water shocks their skin, but the jolt quickly gives way to a rush of adrenaline and relief.

 

The four young men emerge out of the water, bodies trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. Dietrich extends his right hand, palm down. Danny joins him, glancing at the couple. Arthur says to Harry, “It sure was intense,” as Harry places his hand in the stack. Arthur adds his on top, sealing their bond. They agree to see this through, no matter where the road leads. As they stride back, confidence in their steps, the weight of their decision lifts, and the burdens of their former lives fade away.

 

 

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 11:27 AM

 

At the compound, the scent of grilling meat and lively chatter greet us by the pool. We approach Master, kneeling before him in a final act of submission. In unison, we declare, “My name is faggot bindel, and I am a worthless faggot. I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect, Sir. I now reaffirm my pledge of submission, fully of my own volition, to you and my brothers as a permanent bond between us. I will never betray the trust you have bestowed in me.”

 

Master claps, and Dom Chris presents four boxes. Opening the one marked faggot bindel, Master reveals a collar inscribed with “F” and a hood—symbols of our new identity. “Only your brothers may claim your hole; it’s sacred to us. You’re one of us now, forever a brother, do you accept this?”

 

“Sir, yes, Sir,” we each affirm.

 

Collars encircle our necks, masks cloak our faces, marking us as Brothers. “You are faggot bindel until you prove yourself more,” Master says. “Welcome to the Brotherhood.” Pride swells within me, as if knighted by the king, as I take my place among my faggot brothers.

 

 

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 12:20 PM

 

A feast awaits: steak sandwiches on rye with Marsala sauce, golden bacon mac and cheese, and a crisp garden salad—fuel for our souls. At the table, my re-commitment feels like home. My brothers’ congratulations warm me, grounding my pride in humility.

 

Mentor’s voice lowers. “Soon, you’ll train at my place.” The Omega smirks, “And I’ll teach you to deep-throat without gagging—a faggot’s essential skill.” Laughter ripples through us.

 

One by one, my brothers offer to guide my growth. I’m not alone; I’ve found my tribe, a family bound by shared desires. This meal is our communion, each bite a sacrament sealing our Brotherhood. The table is our altar, our bond sacred.

 

danny, harry, arthur, and I are inseparable, but our circle has grown. With our pack and beyond, we’re part of something vast, a family of brothers who hide nothing. With their support, the future gleams with possibility, and I’m ready to face it.

 

End of Chapter 6

[verbalBTTM]

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 01:42 PM

 

Back in our pack’s room, I start to dress, the weight of my new identity settling over me like a second skin. The Omega’s voice cuts through, low and commanding. “Why don’t we start a little training now, faggot?” Before the watchful eyes of the pack, he barks, “Position one.” His tone laced with authority as he fastens a leash to my collar pulling it taught. I drop to my knees without hesitation, the room shrinking under his presence of command. His hand moves with calculated precision, delivering sharp, controlled slaps to my face with his cock, each one a reminder of his dominance. Slowly, he guides himself into my mouth, my submission absolute. My hands grip his thighs, feeling the raw power coursing through him as he swells, claiming the space between us.

 

I work his shaft slowly, eyes locked on his, seeking approval. A flicker of enjoyment in his gaze spurs me on. The Alpha steps forward, pressing a bottle of poppers to my nostril. I inhale deeply, the sharp scent igniting my senses, heightening my desire. My slobber drips from my bottom lip as I redouble my efforts, driven by a primal need to please.

 

Mentor presses my head into the Omega’s crotch, choking out phlegm as tears stream down my face. The Alpha offers poppers again, growling, “Choke harder, faggot,” as the Omega’s hands merge with Mentor’s, their domination absolute. The Beta snaps a belt across my ass, ordering position two. Without hesitation, I grip the Omega's sides tighter, bracing myself as poppers fuel my further ascent into surrender.

 

Mentor and Alpha work in tandem, their fingers—one, then two—probing and stretching me open with deliberate intent. My body yields under their touch, heat rising. Beta steps forward, his thick, uncut Latin cock glistening with spit, and my hole clenches, a wave of lust crashing over me as his saliva slicks my skin. The Alpha urges, “Slut your holes out, faggot, be a good boy.” The Beta kicks my legs apart, driving deeper as I’m thrusted at both ends, poppers pushing me into utter faggotry. The Omega commands, “More tongue, faggot,” parking himself in my throat, relishing my struggle.

 

I work his shaft, staring into his eyes, seeking approval as Mentor spits in my face, his finger digging into my ass alongside the Alpha’s, stretching me for the Beta’s pleasure. My tongue tickles the Omega’s base, my hole clenching to draw the Beta deeper. The Omega’s pulse quickens, his legs tensing as the first spurt releases. I flick my tongue, matching his rhythm, guiding his essence down my throat.

 

His crotch begins convulsing against my face, his balls starting to drain into me, fulfilling my desire for his satisfaction. The Omega grips my head, demanding, “Open your throat, faggot.” Tears well as I obey, trembling under the poppers’ force, my submission absolute. He buries every inch, holding until I can’t breathe, my face blue, tears streaming—a testament to my devotion. The room echoes with my moans, the clap of my cheeks, and the Omega’s climax, my gaze unwavering.

 

As the Beta slaps my ass, his thrusts turn frenzied, signaling his release. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, his final thrust flooding me with his sacred seed. His grip loosens, the other men’s fingers withdraw, and his strength ebbs as he shakes out the last drops, marking me for the weekend. I pump my ass on the Beta’s softening cock, slathering the Omega’s head to complete my service.

 

Sated, I release him, my voice steady with purpose: “I will not allow a drop of my brothers’ seed to touch the earth, sir.” The Omega’s smile mirrors the others’ murmured approval: “Good faggot.” My tongue traces his shaft, reverent, cleansing every trace of my devotion. In this act, I shed my former self, each lick a vow to the eternal bond of this Brotherhood. Mentor’s proud gaze reflects my becoming—a soul forged anew in submission’s fire. Mentor and Alpha pull me aside to rest, praising my effort. “You didn’t quit,” they say, their approval sealing my transformation in this crucible of surrender.

 

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 02:21 PM

 

Searching for the guys, I pass each den’s door, hearing moans and slaps. That sounds like harry—clearly, I’m not the only one getting a send-off. In the living room, I find Master with a drink, reading a book. “May I join you, Sir?” I ask.

 

“Sure,” he says. “What’s on your mind, faggot bindel?”

 

I settle beside him. “I have questions about the weekend.”

 

He nods. “Go ahead”, ass he closes his book.

 

“Why the silence?” I ask.

 

“In the beginning,” he explains, “only I communicate with you to instill my dominance and the Brotherhood’s hierarchy. Once you understood your place—how you submit to all, but a Beta doesn’t submit to an Omega—you began to accept your responsibilities and privileges. You’ll learn more as you grow.”

 

“Why the hoods?” I continue.

 

“The hoods strip away superficial judgments—freckles, features you might reject. Instead, you focus on a man’s capabilities, performance, kindness. They let your animal instincts take over. Get it?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” I reply.

 

“Why no names?”

 

“As a pledge, you didn’t deserve them,” he says. “Now that you’ve embraced us, they’ll be revealed. By the way, I’m Carl Pinkerton, still Master to you, though. Only my husband calls me by name here.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” I say.

 

“Why no clothes?”

 

He smirks. “It’s summer—who needs clothes? That’ll change with the weather, except in the Licentiousness Lounge. No point down there.”

 

harry descends, greets us, and asks, “Where’s faggot worthington?” Moments later, the others trickle downstairs for the ride home. I collect the guys, and we make our way to the car.

 

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 04:20 PM

 

Master pulls us aside, handing each a small gift box. “Open this at home, in private,” he says, wishing us a safe journey. The gates open, and we start down the road. Curiosity wins, and danny opens my box since I’m driving. Inside is a video cassette labeled with my new title, an envelope, and a signet ring. The envelope contains a letter with contact information for my pack and a brief note:

 

“Now that you are one of us, you must be trained as one of us. Your pack will guide your development from this point on; obey them as you would me. You can trust them—they are your brothers. We’ll see you soon. Your password is set as faggot1.

P.S. The ring is worn on your right pinky.”

The ring fits perfectly—how did Master know my size? Maybe that’s why he’s Master.

 

Jokingly, danny and I clank fists, rings gleaming, and chant, “Wonder Faggot powers activate!” harry adds sound effects, while arthur hums the He-Man theme. “Form of a cumdump!” danny declares. “Form of a cock-slut!” I add. Our laughter celebrates our new lives, fitting like a worn-in shoe.

 

 

Sunday, June 27, 1993, 04:33 PM

 

 

 

On the road home, the four of us realize we’ve left something behind—something we don’t want back. Our boyish innocence, fears, hang-ups, and the lies we told ourselves to fit in are gone. We can’t hide from each other anymore; we’ve seen too much. We entered as frightened boys, adrift on life’s currents, and emerged as men, our purpose clear. Duty calls us now.

 

It’s a duty to each other and our brothers, a lifelong adventure just beginning. Like the ad promised, we couldn’t imagine the possibilities then, but now, with childhood’s blinders gone, we step forward with confidence. My brothers are my keepers, as I am theirs. Forever changed, we look to a world of possibilities, our pledges reaffirmed. We’ll return—not as boys, but as men.

 

End of My Genesis

 

[backpackguy]

Thanx VerbalBTTM for such an amazing and inspiring story!!! Our young fags started off the weekend as boys and, along the road less traveled, returned as men, true to their life long calling as willing bottom sluts/cumdumps to "real men!!!" Looking forward to a sequel and/or spin offs starring our new fags!🧑‍🦰🕳️🍆💦💦☣️☣️😈🔥🐽🐷