Now that Sir Jace has spent the past few weeks helping me to attain full “faggot” status in public comfortably, there are no more obstacles getting in the way for me to service him. I’m wearing his collar and “FAGGOT” charm every single day and I’m completely at ease with it. Nobody in my office even bats an eye anymore.
My family dynamic has shifted slightly since my cousin’s wedding where I screamed into the mic that I was Jace’s faggot. My sister was fine, she always knew I was a cock slave. My parents, however, are still reeling. My mother is processing that I will never take a wife and my father is embarrassed by my very existence.
As I am growing older each day, I’ve come to realize that I do not need my parent’s approval or consent to be happy. Being a faggot makes me feel whole, makes me feel like I have found my purpose.
Since Sir Jace had played such an integral role in this process, my need to serve him, his needs, has become even more important to me. I will always and forever be loyal to this Alpha man. I am Sir Jace’s faggot, his property. It is an honor I will never take for granted.
Thanksgiving was tense at my folks house. I was surprised I was even invited. It was just my parents, my sister, and her hot new boyfriend. I could sense my parents were very chastened that I sat at their dinner table wearing the collar of a man they’ve never met, clearly displaying their son was a faggot in front of my sister’s new beau. Instinctively, I wanted to serve him, to clear his dishes, to refill his wine glass. It was my duty.
As I was serving up dessert my phone pinged in my back pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Jace!
”Happy Thanksgiving, faggot. I need some ass.”
”Happy Thanksgiving. How is 9?”
”8, hurry up”
It was just about 7 o’clock so I needed to leave, go home to freshen up and get to Jace’s by 8.
”Sorry, I have to go. Jace needs me.”, I announced.
My mother objected, “It’s Thanksgiving, you’re supposed to be with your family. Who is this Jace guy anyway?”
My sister interjected, “Mother, Jace is Richard’s master. He needs to do whatever he says. Just deal with it.”
My mother rolled her eyes, “fine, just go!”
My father said, “In a million years, I’d never believe my only son would turn out to be such a disappointment, a faggot. What kind of life is that?”. Then he rose up from the table in disgust and walked away.
”Bye mother, bye sis. Great to meet you, Gus.”
I left the scene feeling awful that my dad said what he said, but thought maybe one day he’d come around and accept me. I rushed home and did a good douching, threw on a fresh jock and left for Jace’s place. I thought he would be out of town for the holiday, but I was wrong.
Sir Jace always leaves the door unlocked for me so I just walked in. Jace was sitting in his recliner, wearing a white wifebeater which showed off his hairy pecs so well, and those arms of steel created by almost two decades of hard construction work. He had his legs up and his cock out watching gay porn. It was a Timtales video that I’d watched myself many times of Tim Kruger and Caio Veyron tag teaming a British guy named Lee. So hot if you haven’t seen it.
I’ve said this many times before and I will say it again. Sir Jace is a beautiful man. I never tire of admiring his physique. If I was looking up “Alpha Man” in the dictionary, his image would appear. I have a terrible habit of staring at him when I see him. He commands respect and I feel my submissive mindset instantaneously clicking into on mode when I’m around him.
”Why you always staring at me, faggot?”
”I’m sorry, Sir. I can’t help it. It’s just that being in the same room with you is still unbelievable to me.”
”I’m going to need you to stop doing that. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person. You, on the other hand are not, you’re my faggot. Isn’t that right?”
”Yes Sir, I’m proud to be your faggot.”
”Why don’t you show me how proud you are to be my faggot? Get your mouth on this dick and make yourself useful.”
I stripped out of my clothes wearing just a yellow jock and Sir Jace’s collar.
“That’s what I’m talking about, that’s how a faggot should present itself. Next time you quit staring and come correct. You feel me, faggot?”
“Yes Sir”
Sir Jace raised the seat of his recliner to sitting position and spread his legs and pointed to the floor.
I took my rightful place between his thighs. Once Sir Jace removed his hand from his cock, I placed it in mine and began to lick the head, grateful on this Thanksgiving evening to feast on my favorite meal. I felt Jace’s body relax as he closed his eyes and allowed me, his personal faggot, to orally pleasure his fuck meat.
After years of sucking this very same cock hundreds of times, I know what it likes. Sir Jace is all about no hands and for the first year I’d serviced him he tied my hands behind my back to drive home the point. I’ve been trained so well I no longer require tying up. I quickly removed my hand which had wrapped around his thickness, just barely, and swallowed it down to its base. My throat contracted and I heard Sir Jace softly moaning. His cock in my throat feels so right, like home. Sir Jace likes sloppy, wet throating using lots of tongue. Sometimes I get carried away and bob my head too fast for his liking. I took a slap across the face and admonishing, “Slow down, faggot!”
When my mouth isn’t his cock sleeve, Sir Jace likes it when I work his balls over with my tongue and I softly suck on them. Sometimes I’ll spend thirty minutes nursing on his nuts and Sir Jace lets me. I love it when Sir is in this restful state. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights though. I could sense something was on his mind. Something must have happened at Thanksgiving I thought to myself.
When my mind isn’t completely focused on my purpose, worshipping Jace’s cock, my attention drifts, and as a result my mouth isn’t on point.
Jace smacked my right cheek.
“Hey, pay attention to what you doin’, faggot!”
“I’m thorry, Thir”, I said with a mouth full of his dick.
After at least 45 minutes of oral adulation, Sir Jace held his palm on the back of my head like a basketball and stood up. His other hand grabbed my chin and he began to skull fuck my face. Throat goo was flying out of me, spittle dripping down my chin, on my cheeks, on the floor. Jace liked it wet and slick as I placed my hands on his beefy, muscled, hairy ass and felt it clenching on the downstroke, Sir Jace grunting as his head was faced toward the TV and he pummeled my skull for a few more minutes before he grunted and shots of hot jizz flew down my throat. I counted nine twitches of his dick before it stopped. I squeezed his cock with my hand as I licked and swallowed everything on offer. The perfect dessert for Thanksgiving.
Jace’s cock was still semi-erect as he sat back down in his chair.
“Get me a beer, faggot.”
I walked to his refrigerator and pulled out a Bud. I poured it into a glass for him and when I returned to the living room, he was smoking a blunt.
“How was your Thanksgiving?”, he asked.
“It was ok, Sir, and yours?”
“My fucking brother is an asshole. I hate him. I had to leave before I punched him. That fucker thinks he’s better than everyone. Fuck him!”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Not your fault, faggot.”
Sir Jace took a swig of beer and then lit up the joint for another hit.
“Fuck, this is some good shit. You wanna hit?”
“No, thank you, Sir.”
“Yeah, probably wouldn’t be good for you, faggot. I know what’s good for you.”
Then he pointed down again towards his partial stiffy.
Sir Jace amazes me. The stud is always ready to keep going. It’s as if after he cums once, it opens the floodgates to more. I can always count on at least two loads, and may times three.
I took up my spot between his legs. It’s a wonder the carpet isn’t worn out from my knees after spending so much time in this spot. I looked up into Sir Jace’s eyes as he glared down at me, watching me take his shaft between my lips. He guzzled down the remainder of the beer and never moved his eyes from mine.
“You’re such a good faggot. You know that? You know how to make my dick feel good.”
It’s this type of positive messaging that I live for. Affirmation that I’m worthy of his time.
“Thank vou, Thir”, I tried to respond.
“I’m gonna put my dick up your ass, faggot. Get yo’ ass up on that couch and bend over. Gonna pound that ass out so good tonight.”
I scurried to the couch and leaned over the left side, the side closest to Sir Jace’s recliner.
Since I’d slobbered all over his cock, it was very wet. Sir Jace bent down to spit right on my pucker and put his finger inside. He spit into his hand a couple of times and coated his hard cock. I knew it was coming. I gripped the couch tightly in anticipation of the ass invasion.
I guess I was too tense for Sir Jace to slip inside me. He slapped my ass, “loosen up, faggot! Let me get in that fuck hole!”
I closed my eyes and took a deep, long breath, and exhaled. That always does the trick. Just when I finished the exhale, Sir Jace took advantage of the moment and half his cock was up my butt!
“Oh Fuck!”, I blurted aloud.
Sir Jace slapped my ass hard and buried his bone to the hilt.
“Woooowww, oooohhhhhh!”
Sir Jace gripped my hips at each side and began to slide his cock in and out of my fuck hole. He momentarily stopped just to let more of his spit drop down to his shaft for some extra lube, and then it began to slip and slide easily. I love it when Sir Jace aims to bang my back out, the sound of his body repeatedly slamming into mine, deep dicking me like I deserve, using his personal faggot without a thought, anyway he needs to get off. My cage was bouncing around in the pouch of the jock from the force of his fucking.
Jace pushed me onto the couch cushion on my stomach and entered inside me. I felt like he was pushing me down into the sofa as his hand pressed on the small of my back. I raised my hips slightly so he could bone me deeper. Sir Jace’s bulk tensed above me and that familiar guttural growl gave away that he was ready to breed. I was his mare as this stallion screamed out, “Take my nut, faggot! Oh fuck yeah, fucking breeding your fucking faggot hole! Fuuuccckk yeah!”
Given the load I’d swallowed, I would have thought there wouldn’t be much seed left in Sir Jace’s balls to fuck in me, but Sir Jace is no ordinary man. My hole was injected with plenty of his spooge. We could hear it swishing around as Sir Jace slowly continued to buck into me until he shimmied and fell onto my back.
I felt small under Sir Jace’s weight, Sir Jace’s body covering me like a coat of protection. Coveting his property. I was his faggot, and with his seed up my ass marking me, it was even more apparent. I wished I could be Sir Jace’s faggot 24/7.
“Thank you, Sir.” I said softly.
“You’re welcome, my faggot.”
Sir Jace’s hands grabbed my torso as he pulled me into a bear hug and laid his head on my back. It isn’t often Sir Jace was this affectionate with me. Since Bryan disappeared from his life, I’ve been Sir Jace’s primary play partner. Typically, it’s just a physical release, and that’s fine with me. But this, this was nice.
“Hey, it’s getting late and there’s probably drunk drivers out there. You wanna spend the night?”
I didn’t answer quickly. This was a surprising turn. I’d not spent the night at his place in years. Mostly when we had all-night sex-a-thons, but this was different.
“Are you sure? I can go home. I don’t live that far.”
“I know where you live. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure.”
I didn’t feel right refusing Sir Jace, as I never do.
“Sure, I’ll spend the night, Sir.”
Sir Jace peeled himself off my back and I quickly latched into his cock to clean it off before we hit the bed.
Sir Jace and I walked back to his bedroom and I watched him strip off his wifebeater and join me in his king bed. Sir Jace laid on his back, his head propped up on his pillow and I laid my head down on his chest. He stroked my cheek and we both drifted off to sleep. I was contented knowing Sir Jace was sated, his balls drained, as Alpha Males need. And, sleeping with one of his virile loads in my belly, and one in my butt, there isn’t anything better.
