Sir Jace took me to the airport and somehow I made it through security with my caged cock. Sir Jace dropped me off like a piece of cargo. He said it was best there wasn’t a long emotional farewell, but he did admit that he’d miss me and said that he loved me very much, and I should trust him. I had only my ID and a small bag of toiletries, no phone, nothing else. Sir Jace said one of the Masters would pick me up in Phoenix. He had sent them my photo so they knew not only what I looked like, but what they were working with.
Before I left, Sir had taken my collar off. It was so strange sitting on this five hour flight without it on. The jet’s engines lulled me to sleep and when I awoke, we were nearly landing.
When I arrived at the gate I walked through the tarmac, through the airport and followed the sign for baggage claim.
Once I walked outside the secure area of the airport and in the public space, a man in his 50’s, around 6 feet tall, 190, blue-steely eyes, goatee, jeans and a black T-shirt that read “Camp Submission” on it. He approached me quickly once I was visually recognized.
I was about to say something when his hand covered my mouth.
“Shhhh! Rule number 1, you must never speak unless permitted to do so!”, the man said in a thick German accent.
Once he was convinced I wouldn’t say anything he removed his hand from my face and nodded in approval.
“Come, follow me!”
We walked to his BMW, I made an attempt to open the passenger door.
My hand was slapped away.
“No, in the back you go!”
I sat in the back seat in silence watching the beauty of the wilderness as we drove two hours or so north up to a secluded ranch in Sedona. As we rolled up to the front of the main house, the other Master was standing outside to greet us. He was a tall man, 6 feet four, easily, black hair, dark dead eyes, goatee, jeans and that same t-shirt. The two men kissed as departed from the back seat of the car.
The taller man said, “Strip faggot!”
It was not an option this was an order. I stripped down to my jockstrap.
The shorter of the two slapped my face, hard.
“Off!”, he yelled as he tore the fabric and threw it to the ground.
The two of them circled me like vultures, checking their project out.
They whispered quietly to themselves in German.
Then the shorter one grabbed a hose and filled a silver dog dish with water.
“Drink!”, he yelled. I looked very confused. How was I to drink the water from the dog bowl?
Another slap to the side of my head and I was manhandled down to my knees and then he pushed on my back until my face was in the water.
“Drink!”
I lapped up the water. In the dry air, it was refreshing. I was embarrassed to be drinking out of a dog bowl in front of these two men.
“Stand up, boy!”, the taller one said.
“I am Master Max”, he said, “and that is my husband, Master Corbin. Your Sir paid us good money to turn you into a better faggot. We will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. At the end of these two weeks we will celebrate the death of your ego. There will be no more “I” or “me”.
That sounded a bit scary.
Master Corbin startled me and began to wrap thick duct tape around my mouth.
“Master Max, it’s first instinct when we met was to speak.”
“Well done then, Master Corbin. Of course, the duct tape is the perfect remedy for uppity faggots who think they need to speak.”
“Master Max, I will get a collar for this faggot while it’s under our supervision.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
The collar was metal and spiked and quite thick. It weighed heavily around my neck as it was locked into place. A metal chain-link leash was attached and then I was marched into their home. We walked quickly through a mud room and right down a wooden staircase to the basement.
One of the Masters flipped on a light switch. There was a large metal cage in a corner of the room. I was secured inside by the collar.
Master Corbin brought me a sheet of paper and a pen.
“You need to come up with a mantra. Something like, “I am a faggot for Superior Alphas”. Make it a good one. You will be saying it thousands of times in the next two weeks and possibly for the rest of your life! You have an hour, we’ll be back!”
I sat there blankly staring at this sheet missing my Sir terribly. Did he know I would be locked inside their cage like this? This seemed horribly unfair, that damn Milky Way bar slip up had really fit me in one hell of a spot. I must have sat there with a blank expression on my face for too long. I heard a voice over the intercom.
“Once you accept you are here this will be much better for you, faggot, you will see. Do not resist. 30 minutes remaining. Do not leave that page blank, boy!”
I had shivers running down my spine. I wondered what they would do to me if I didn’t write anything down. I came up with something, something that I always said in the past. “I am Sir Jace’s faggot. Sir Jace is my King.” I wrote it down the page on both sides.
A loud buzzer went off thirty minutes later and the men rushed down the stairs and pulled the sheet out of my hand.
“Let’s see what you came up with, faggot”, Master Corbin said.
There were moments of silence as they read my words and then more German spoken between them.
“We accept this as your mantra, faggot.”
I was pulled out of the cage and made to face a mirror. I was pushed down to my knees, my hands roped behind my back, the duct tape removed from my face.
“Say the words out loud. Over and over again, faggot. Look at yourself as you say them. Hear the truth behind the message. You might feel emotional, you might feel nothing. It is important lesson is to witness yourself speaking truth to the world and own the strength of your mantra.”
“I am Sir Jace’s faggot. Sir Jace is my King.”
I was butt slapped, “Louder! Again!”
This exercise was not new to me as Sir Jace had me repeat these words to him many times before. It was the first time doing this in front of a mirror, and in front of strangers.
After at least 50-60 times. I felt my posture rise, I was reciting the mantra with more gusto, more belief, more pride. I wanted to shout my mantra out loud from the mountaintop!
“I AM SIR JACE’S FAGGOT! SIR JACE IS MY KING!” I began to visualize his body, his cock, his presence as if he were in the very same room as me.
“Enough, faggot!”, Master Max said. Tomorrow, you will meet some of the other campers and you will all enjoy reciting your mantras together on the campground.”
“Listen up, faggot. There’s more to learn while you are here.”, Master Corbin chimed in.
“Yes, it’s true a faggot sucks a good dick and is always ready for a good fuck, but a great faggot knows it’s sexual pleasure is irrelevant. Sir Jace said you’ve been locked up for years so you might have a leg up on your fellow faggots in this regard. None of them came caged as you did. We will teach you to stay alert and mindful at all times. You will learn to pay attention to what pleases us and will keep doing those things, and what displeases us, and will avoid doing those things. You will focus only on our gratification. You will learn to pay attention to details. For instance, there is a difference between “suck my cock” and “suck me off”. If you truly want to make your Sir happy, paying attention to the details makes all the difference.”
I wanted to say something but my mouth was dry.
Another bowl of water was placed in front of me.
“Drink! You must drink plenty of fluid here, faggot!”
I lapped up the water again, but I had to take a piss in the worst way. I began to move my body around hoping I wouldn’t piddle in front of these Masters.
“Do you need to piss, boy?”
I nodded “yes”
Master Corbin took me outside to the trough where I let my urine fly. We were back outside and I saw some other naked boys standing around watching another camper getting whipped at the stake.
“Might be a good idea for you to see what happens when a camper chooses not to follow an order. Come with me now, boy.”
The leash was attached to the heavy collar and I was watching a cute brown haired twink taking a single tail to his back and ass. The man administering the punishment was a brute of man. The poor boy’s mouth was stuffed with dirty socks wrapped around its head.
“That’s my cousin, Master Hans”, Master Corbin said. “You don’t want to make him angry, boy.
When the show was over, Master Hans ordered two of the other boys to take him into the cage, where I had been.
“Master Hans”, this is our new arrival today. You mind sharing what that was about?”
“Not at all, Master Corbin. That faggot refused to suck my cock.”
“Really, Master Hans? How unusual? You rarely see a faggot refuse a man’s cock at this camp.”
“Yes, I thought so, too. That faggot said my cock was too ripe and spat it out of its mouth. I’m gonna go pour some of that urine in that piss bucket over there over my cock and make it suck me. I’ll show that faggot a thing or two. It’ll never refuse any man’s cock again when I get through with it!”
“Yes, go ahead Master Hans. Don’t let us keep you.”
“You see, faggot. You must always do as you’re told at our camp. No will never be an option, ever. That faggot has been here over a week and refused to suck my cousin’s cock four days in a row. That faggot is still under the impression it has an ego. Well, I’m here to tell you that once we bury your ego, there will only be yes, always yes, always obedience, that is the end goal for you and for all of our faggots here at our training camp.”
I was brought back toward the house. I could hear the brown haired faggot choking on Master Hans’s cock in the distance. He was still resisting even after being whipped.
“That faggot’s gonna be sorry he ever laid eyes on my cousin Hans. Of the four of us he is the strictest.”
I was taken back into the house, into the kitchen and we were soon rejoined by Master Max.
“Your Sir indicated your special talents were cock sucking and cooking on your camp application. Every camp has its own hazing ritual, ours is to test out the cocksucking abilities of each of our campers. Get on your knees and open your mouth. We’re gonna soon see if your Sir was correct.”
Masters Max and Corbin pulled out their fat, uncut German sausages from their jeans. Master Max pushed his flaccid cock into my mouth and it did taste rather rank. I imagined his crotch becoming sweaty on those jeans in this heat. I didn’t pull off though, I used my tongue and swirled it all around his foreskin as his cock grew harder and thicker down my throat. I desperately tried not to inhale too much of his toxic fumes.
“Impressive, impressive indeed. Master Corbin, look how the faggot can deep throat me. No gag reflex whatsoever. Here, you give it a try.”
Master Corbin pushed his cock down my throat and held my face as he proceeded to fuck my skull. His cock was slightly thicker than Master Max, but just a smidge smaller in length. Both were a solid seven and a half or so.
“Yes Master Max, I’d agree with its Sir. We have on our hands one of the best cocksuckers I’d experienced in months. Let’s give this faggot a good welcoming!”
Both men stood over my head and jerked off all over my face. It was like a cum fountain, blast after blast hitting my hair, cheeks chin and open mouth, ropes of white pungent cream sticking to my face. I still had the other kind of ropes tying my hands behind my back so I couldn’t wipe off my face.
“Master Max, why don’t we let our faggot dry off in the sun for a minute and bake our loads right on its face.”
“What a great idea, Master Corbin! This will give us a chance to talk.”
They took me outside where I remained on my knees with my face pointed right at the hot sun. I could feel the cum begin to dry on my skin as the sun beat down on me.
“There are five other campers here, faggot, training just like you. And then there’s me and Max, my cousin Hans, and his husband, Master Leo. Every camper has a duty while they stay here. Yours will be in the kitchen. In between preparing breakfasts, lunches and dinners every day for the next two weeks, there will be plenty of time to work on you, I meant, work with you. While you are in the kitchen we will of course allow full use of hands, but a muzzle will be on your face. You must never speak unless you are invited into the discussion. That may never happen, some campers stay with us for an entire two weeks without uttering a word other than their mantras. We’ll see how things go with you, faggot.”
The ropes were untied and a large muzzle was placed over my face.
“We have a fully stocked kitchen. Impress us. Dinner is served at 6pm every evening. Masters eat in the dining room, there is a mess hall out back for the faggots. Each faggot has their own bowl with their camp number written on it. Yours is #6. No utensils for the faggots. You’ll see, if Sir Jace permits you to eat with a fork, you will appreciate him all the more.”
“I think he gets the picture, Master Corbin. Let’s let this faggot start cooking, but before we do, I want to take a picture of him to send to his Sir so he can see he is safe.”
I heard the cellphone snap a picture of me naked, wearing a muzzle and then the men left me alone. I imagined my Sir receiving this pic and wondered how he would react.
I’d only been there a few hours and I’d already written and recited a mantra, seen a faggot get whipped, had two loads of sun-dried cum on my face, and now have to prepare a large meal for the Masters and my fellow faggots. As I prepared the meal, I thought about the deconstruction of my ego, and the importance of paying attention to details.
I baked four chickens, roasted potatoes, made a side of broccolini. For us faggots, I cut things up into bite sized pieces and began to fill each of the six bowls including mine.
For the Masters, I placed their warm food on their fancy dining room table and stepped away.
Master Leo was already sitting at the table. He also a tough guy, wearing tight blue jeans and a cowboy shirt with the top four buttons undone showing off his hairy chest.
“You must be the latest arrival. Let me get a good look at you.”
He pulled me over towards him by the arm and had me sitting on his lap while he played with my nipples.
“Very very nice. I better win our card game tonight. I wanna break you in, faggot! Go on and eat with the other faggots. Master Leo removed the muzzle from my face. I was going to say thank you. Master Leo must have anticipated this and covered my mouth.
“Shhhhhh. Faggots should never ever speak here. Don’t forget that. I’ve seen some faggots walk out of here with mutilated tongues because they showed no restraint. Something tells me you’re gonna be a good one.”
I was dismissed from the house and allowed to eat supper outside with the others. The other faggots were on their hands and knees stuffing their mouths with the food I had prepared. They never looked up, not even once. I noticed that bowl number 2 remained untouched. “That must be the bad one’s bowl”, I thought to myself.
I was hungry and I did make a good meal. I took my spot at my filled dog bowl and shoved my face into it. I felt food sticking to my face as I chewed and swallowed.
After 30 minutes, Master Corbin had us line up so he could spray our faces clean with the hose. It was so degrading. Even Sir Jace had never subjected me to anything like this.
The other faggots seemed to fall into the routine like it was normal. They were all caged, smooth all over like myself. There was one Black faggot and the other 4 were White like me. The Black faggot was eating out of bowl number one. They must have ranged in age from 22-42, all were built similarly, toned, demure.
After dinner we were rallied in front of the faggot sleeping quarters. Faggot number two rejoined the group. His body was covered with lacerations from the afternoon whipping.
All 4 Masters were present.
Master Max spoke.
“Alright, listen up faggots. It’s time for your nightly mantra recitations. Focus on your own mantra. This is about each of you diving deeper into your commitment to serve true men, whether you have a man in your life like our newest camper or you’re seeking a Master. Sing your songs to us. Be proud of what you are, what you can be. Rest assured, we will be here to keep you on task should you require any assistance.
Over the next thirty minutes, each of us six faggots were lined up in a row, on our knees on the dry dirt, reciting our mantras over and over again. It took me five to ten minutes to visualize my Sir, which made it so much easier to tune out the other voices, especially the one faggot next to me with the most annoying highest pitched voice I’d ever heard. A few times, some of the other faggots were paddled on their asses if they fell behind or stumbled on their words.
After mantra time had ended, I was parched, but I felt more centered, a calm washed over me.
We were each given more water in our dog bowls and allowed to use the trough for a last piss before bed.
No talking was permitted between the faggots. Each of us wore muzzles that were tight and unmovable. The faggot barracks had straw beds in stalls with numbers one through six in them. We were each placed in our stalls and the iron doors were locked. It was like being in a jail cell, cement walls between each stall so as to cut us off completely from our neighbor. Only a hole in the ground to shit or piss if you had to.
I tried to find a sense of comfort in this. I missed sleeping next to my Sir Jace. I would do anything to be with him again, to see him again, to serve him again.
