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Satanic Slave - Part 4I had never been so terrified. Or so hard and dripping. I was horny as hell and from what I could tell, my hands were going to be locked behind my back for the next 30 days or after I got 666 men off. Little chance of sexual release for me.
Suddenly I wasn't alone; that dark menacing seductive voice was back inside my head. "Faggots only live to pleasure Men. A faggot's mouth is only open to suck cock or to kiss ass. Nobody gives a damn what a faggot thinks. A faggot is a pathetic waste unless in service...." I tried to ignore this Man inside my head and get some bearing as to where I was.
I looked out the hole. The room outside was dimly lit. Not much to it. I could see across what might be a small hallway to two other holes on the other side. Above each of them was a small ledge and a lit sign of numbers. One read "145"; the other read "479". I could only assume that those ledges each held a "yes" and a "no" button.
This was fucking real.
While I was staring, a door at the end of the hall, or at least as far toward the end as I could see, opened up. A man came in, putting a few bills back in his wallet.
Apparently I was one of several suckwhores used to get men off for payment to our keepers. I guess this place had to make some money somehow. And I was now part of that somehow.
And still, that unrelenting voice: "A faggot lives to worship cock. A faggot needs dick to survive. A faggot craves the nutrition of piss and cum ...." As skin-crawlingly seductive as this Man's voice was, I had to get him out of my head or I'd go insane. I shook my head to get the headphones off.
No effect. They stayed in place.
I pushed my head against the corner, hoping to slide the phones off my ears. All I managed to do was pull my ear skin a little. These fuckers were superglued to my ears. What the fuck had I done to myself? I was going to listen to this Man defining the rest of my life whether I wanted to or not.
And then darkness. A penis slid through the hole. There was only one thing to do.
I sucked. As if my pathetic life depended on it.
In spite of my fear, or maybe because of it, I was caressing this Cock in ways I never had before. There were no distractions. The voice in my head became an actual reinforcement. "A faggot lives to suck cock. The only validation a faggot needs is a Man's release. A faggot without a cock to suck is an empty hole." There seemed to be no end to the rephrasing of this one basic truth: I was now nothing but a cocksucker for the rest of my life.
I was able to concentrate on the sensations of this anonymous Cock. I felt the different textures to its skin in various places. As I softly wrung my tongue back and forth around the base of the shaft, I felt it pulse. A good sign. I allowed my throat to open and close around its head. I felt it swell. Thus began the first of many conversations my mouth would have with a Man's Cock.
After awhile, I felt the pulsing tremors of His orgasm. His Cock was too deep inside me for me to taste his seed, but I relished it nonetheless. My heart raced as I felt His Seed flowing through His Dick. My brain was flying. I was high on the orgasm I'd given another. I felt like I shot my load through His Prick. This was something I'd never experienced before and it was a fucking revelation.
Yes, yes, yes ... this was where I belonged. Again I started to cry like some stupid bitch. But it didn't matter, so I just let go and sobbed, keeping this precious Penis in my cocksucking mouth, gently cleaning it with my tongue.
After awhile He began to pull away. I sucked all the harder, trying to stay in contact with the Cock that had somehow become my savior. He stayed in place with just His Dickhead through the hole.
My instincts kicked into gear and I just knelt there, mouth open, not moving a muscle. I was rewarded with the baptism of His piss. While I swallowed, the voice was right on target : "A faggot prays for the blessing of a Man's piss."
And prayed I did. After the final gulp of His urine. "Thank You so much, Sir."
I can't tell you much of the progression after that. I did the math and figured if I spent 20 minutes servicing a man, that's be 3 per hour. Seven hours of service a day would be 21 men, or 630. Still a ways short. This wasn't going to be easy, but I wanted to prove myself worthy. Yeah, it was just like that. My goal wasn't to escape. I wanted to fucking BE just the cocksucker they were training me to be.
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Pretty fucked up, huh?
I waited for another Man to service and realized there wouldn't necessarily be a steady flow. I learned to rest with my lips against the hole so I wouldn't sleep through the chance to earn another point in my favor. I was able to squirm around enough that I wasn't always resting on my knees and lower legs, but it was impossible to stretch out. There was a subtle but consistent agony building from the tightness of the space. To me it was the dues I had to pay, the cost of becoming what I was born to be.
"A faggot will do anything for the taste of Cock." Yes, Sir. Abso-fucking-lutely.
The hardest part was losing all track of time. The hallway outside had no windows. The only way to even guess the passage of time was by the number of Men seeking service. There were times that were busier than others. But were those busy times right after the workday ended? Late at night when they'd put their wives to bed? Was it now a Friday night or late Sunday afternoon?
What did it matter? All that mattered was that there was another cock I had the chance to service. I suckled, I nursed, I worshipped ... hour after hour. Eventually, probably weakened by the lack of sleep, I fell into a constant state of "now" with no reason to focus on past or future. Nothing else mattered but the Cock -now- in front of me. The thanks I'd offer after service became ever more sincere as I began to see Cock as my lifeblood, my literal means of survival.
Cock determined whether I lived or died. Cock was truly my God.
At some point yet another Cock came to be serviced. As I stuck out my tongue, He backed away. A note was held in front of the window.
665
30 minutes left
The note left my vision, and another Cock, my God and Savior, came forward to be worshipped. I wasted no time. I was never more reverent in my pathetic life. I drooled and moaned at the taste of His flesh. I imagined myself as one of the voices on tape seducing another cocksucker's brain someday. I became a total and complete whore for this Cock, losing all pretense or even hope of pretense. I was a debased cocksucking faggot moaning for a Man's Cock. I sucked like a man possessed. Hell, I was a man possessed.I felt His muscles tighten and prepared for the joy of His orgasm. And then the unthinkable happened.
The bastard backed away. Just out of reach of my tongue. After a few minutes, he re-entered and I started up again. As soon as he got close, he pulled back. I began a tug-of-war with this Man's Cock, straining with every muscle I could use to get him off. But he had a lot more muscles available to use than I did. I started to cry as I realized just how hopeless and helpless a faggot is. I begged and pleaded. "Sir, oh God, please allow a faggot to get You off. Please, Sir, allow a faggot the gift of Your Cum." It didn't matter.
As I alternately begged, licked, and sucked, time ran out and the back of my cell opened. I was pulled out to be punished for my failure. Funny thing, though. Even though I'd been sobbing on and off since this whole thing began, I was dry-eyed at that moment. Sure, it wasn't fair. It didn't have to be. Nobody promised me "fair". If Men wanted a faggot to suffer, a faggot would gratefully suffer for Them. Anything to remain in this holy temple of Cock
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