For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

I had predicted that rich would want back in after he stewed for maybe a week or ten days.  It took only  about 3-4 days for the bitch to come crawling back.  (BTW, those of my readers who ventured an opinion were more than 3:1 that rich would seek to return to being my fag.)  

After I threw the bitch out, I took off to the beach with Amanda for the long holiday weekend.  (Few things are as troubling as a weekend in the Hamptons with the fashion jihadists.)  We got back late Monday night and I spent the night at Amanda’s place.  So, I first showed up at my apartment on Tuesday, after work.  It was maybe 7:30 or so when I stepped off the elevator.  There was rich, kneeling in front of my apartment door.  I kicked him aside and unlocked the door and started to enter the apartment.  rich spoke up:  “Sir, could we talk?”. 

“About what, bitch?”

“Sir, i made a terrible mistake.”

“What was your mistake, bitch?”

rich stammered, but finally got it out.  “i should never have presumed that i could set the terms of my service to You, Sir.”

“You want another shot at being my fag?”

“Yes, Sir.  More than anything.”

“You understand that things will be much different than before.”

Rich knelt there, his lips quivering, and said nothing for at least a minute.  Then, “As You wish, Sir.”

“Of course it will be as i wish.”  Then I added, “you’ll have to go back into chastity.” 

“i already am, Sir.  Here’s the key back.” 

“Oh?” I inquired.  rich explained:  “i took the cage off, but it felt so unnatural, my cock swinging free, that after a day, i locked myself back up.”

“Did you jerk off when you were free?”

“Oh no, Sir.  i would never do that without Your permission.”

So, you wearing the same cock cage as before?  That will do for now.“

rich looked at me warily.  I continued:  “First thing, we’re going to have your tongue pierced.  Fucking your cunt is pretty good – not that there isn’t room for improvement – but you give third rate blow jobs.  I can’t have any fag of mine providing less than superior sexual service.  It’s an embarrassment.”  I stared at the quivering mass of fag-dom kneeling on my floor.  “Now get the fuck out.  I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

And so, the new order of fag rich’s service was commenced. 

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

On the day after I emphatically advised rich that he was not living up to my standards with respect to keeping my apartment clean (see “Fuck ups,” below) he called and asked if he could come down to talk to me.  “Sure.”  I had just come from the gym and was relaxing on the couch in a sleeveless Under Armour tee shirt, that was soaked through with my sweat and a pair of skin tight spandex gym shorts.  rich did a double take, his lips quivering, when he first walked in and saw me, spread legged on the couch.  Then he went into his spiel.

“I didn’t sign up for this.” 

“You didn’t sign up, period,” I reminded him.  But he obviously had rehearsed his little speech.  he paused for a few seconds and the plowed ahead.

“I didn’t sign up to be your housemaid and punching bag.”

“You mean, you didn’t sign up to be my housemaid and punching bag, SIR.”

‘Yes Sir, i’m sorry Sir.  I didn’t sign up to be your housemaid and punching bag, Sir.“

“As I said, bitch, you didn’t sign up, period.  You’re a fag, and that’s a fag’s life.  Your just doing what you were put on Earth to do.”

“Well, I resent it.”  Pause.  “Sir.”

“You can resent it all you want to, but its the facts of life boy.  What are you gonna do about it.” 

“Well, I’m not going to do it any longer.  I’m 38 years old, a successful investment banker.  I don’t have to spend three hours a day cleaning your toilet and I don’t have to go into work all black and blue because You want to beat me up.”

“Oh,” was all I said as I stared through him like a laser.

“I can serve you in some other e\way.”

“You will serve me in the way that pleases me.  Do you understand that?  That is what fags do.”

He simply stared.  I continued, “I guess we’re at a stalemate.”  More staring.  I reached out my hand.  “If you are not prepared to clean ,my apartment as I expect, you don’t need the key to my place.”  I held my hand out and reluctantly, rich reached into his pocket and extracted his copy of the key to my apartment.  he handed it over.  I got up and walked to the fireplace mantel   I opened a small silver box that was on the mantel and extracted a key.  “Here’s the key to the padlock on your cock cage.”  I handed the key to rich.

“Now, get the fuck out.”

Rich looked at me, a dazed look in his eyes.  Obviously the conversation had not gone as he had planned.  After about a 30 second pause, he slowly turned around and headed for the door.  he closed the door quietly as he left.

I’m not a betting man, but I’d bet a steak dinner that in a week or ten days, rich will be back.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

fag rich fucked up.  fag josiah fucked up.  I fucked up.

josiah:  As my readers know, Josiah was relocated by his company to its office in Shanghai.  I have been living in josiah’s apartment while he is gone and I promised to fly out to spend some time with him after about three months.  josiah and I have been staying in touch – kind of – by Skype, although the time difference (12 hours) kind of complicates things. 

Well, I learned a few days ago that josiah wasn’t alone while we were chatting on Skype.  I didn’t so much hear anyone else in the room with josiah as I sensed someone else was there and when I asked him, the bitch was forthcoming.  he acknowledged that he had a work associate in the room with him, that he was trying to impress this guy by showing off me as his friend and the Man he served.  I was pissed that he had violated our privacy and told him so.  i immediately disconnected the call.  josiah Skyped me a few days later and apologized again.  I told him that I was not coming to China in June, as scheduled; that he could take his first class air tickets and shove them up his ass.

“i deserve to be punished,” he said.

“Your punishment is yet to come, bitch,” I responded.

rich  As you know, rich has been assigned the duty of making sure my apartment is clean before I come home from work each day.  the fag has been doing a decent job, but not up to the standards of my expectations. 

This is where I have been fucking up.  I should have called the bitch on it way sooner than last night.

But I came home last night and was in the mood to and had the time to “refocus” rich.  I called him down on the phone.  “Now!” was all I said when the bitch answered his phone, and he was in the foyer of my apartment, kneeling and trembling (and breathless) within about 45 seconds.

“You call this clean?”

he looked at me quizzically, and that pissed me off, so I hauled up and slapped his face hard.  Tears came to his eyes.  I dragged him by his caged dick through the apartment, pointing out deficiencies in his cleaning:  a streak on the glass topped coffee table, another streak on the kitchen counter, a few crumbs on the counter near the stove, dust balls in corners throughout the apartment.  Each time I pointed out a defect I punched or kicked rich, for emphasis.  When we got to my bathroom, I pointed out a smudge of indeterminate origin on the inside of the toilet bowl.

“What’s than?”

By this time rich was quivering, not to mention black and blue all over his body. 

“i don’t know, Sir.”

“Well, clean it up.”  rich turned to head toward the closet with the cleaning supplies were kept. 

“With your tongue, bitch.”

rich stopped dead in his tracks, and just stared up an me.  I grew impatient and was about to strike the fag again when he crawled over to the toilet, lifted the seat, put his head inside and starting licking the side of the bowl.

I was simply astounded at how low I had brought the bitch.  My mind was swimming with possibilities and my dick was rock hard…

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

Do you keep your fag rich locked in chastity?

rich has been in chastity for the better part of two months now.  And he’s beginning to understand that there well may be no end in sight.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

A few weeks after I had dinner and “extra dessert” with mikey’s dad, I learned that I was not the only college jock whose cock had been worshiped by the man.  I don’t really remember how the subject came up as it was not my habit then (unlike now) to discuss my fags with others, but I learned that one of the linemen on the football team similarly had been “worshiped” and “entertained” by mikey’s dad.  Then I started inquiring discretely and learned that mikey’s dad was an equal opportunity jock worshiper, and that in addition to me, in that and the previous year, he had serviced dudes on the basketball team, two guys on the football team, a sprinter on the track team and a lacrosse player.  Little mikey was, in fact, pimping for his old man. 

While most of these, as far as I knew, were one-on experiences, mikey’s dad started coming to my games maybe once a month.  This attention continued on and off during the off season  as well, probably 4-5 times a year for the entire four years of my college career.  mikeys dad would call me and tell me he was going to be at such and such game or would be in town on such and such date and would I like to get together. it always involved a gourmet dinner, or a professional sporting event, followed by a night in a plush hotel room, and frequently a parting gift for me – some piece of electronic gear, or clothing, or a gift certificate at a sporting goods store.

I suppose it was inevitable, but eventually mikey joined in.  It happened first over Christmas break my Sophomore year.  mikey’s dad invited me to go sailing in the Caribbean on his sail boat.  Having no home to go home to, I readily accepted.  mikey and his dad were the only crew; I was the only passenger.  The first couple of days out we wore speedos; after that, it was mostly naked, working on an overall tan.  mikey’s dad was brazen in going after my cock several times a day.  I would wake up in m bunk with dad’s lips around my dick, and the last thing at night was a long, languorous cocksucking session that could last for hours as mikey and I sat on the aft deck after dinner, chatting and drinking beer.

Then one day, I was aroused to the point where I took charge and dad’s cock worshiping became an intense skull fucking. I grabbed the back of dad’s head with both hands and pile drove his throat.  dad started gagging and choking.  Throat slime was everywhere and the bitch kept pounding my chest, begging me to back off so he could  get some air.  After about ten minutes of this, mikey had had enough.

“You’re not doing it right, dad.  Let me show you.”  mikey elbowed his dad aside and engulfed my cock completely in one  … gulp I guess is the right word.  There ensued one of the more incredible blow jobs I have ever had.  mikey must have had some fish in his genetic makeup, cause I swear, the dude had my cock deep in his throat for maybe 20 minutes and never came up for air.  mikey had to have been breathing through his skin.  Peristalsis – the same sequential muscular action of the throat that moves food down into the stomach – was massaging my cock and massaging the loads right out of me.  mikey’s dad was watching all of this like it was a junior high school science class demonstration.  I, on the other hand, was cross-eyed and delirious.  I shot two massive loads in the 20 minute, without ever removing my dick form mikey’s magic throat.  mikey swallowed every drop…

From that day on, when I “got together” with mikey’s dad, mikey frequently would join in.  Those were awesome nights for me – and I suppose for mikey and his dad.  And strangely, as much as I would have wanted it, and as much as I encouraged it, mikey had no interest  in worshiping my dick in the dorms or in the locker room.  The only time mikey would show any interest in my cock was when his dad was around.  Musta been a strange Oedipal thing.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

When I was in college the equipment manager of our baseball team was a kid named mikey.  he was a pretty good equipment manager, in that our uniforms always were clean and hanging in our lockers for home games or neatly packed in our duffles for away games, there always were plenty of balls and bats out on the practice field, extra cleats available in a variety of sizes in case of need.  It got to the point that if I broke a shoelace while tying my cleats, I’d call for mikey and he would just dig into his pocket and pull out a fresh shoelace for me.  

Shortly after I started with the team, I learned that mikey also was equipment manager for the football team and the basketball team.  I just assumed that mikey just liked to hang with the jocks; that he was another of these jock-groupies – interested in the sport, but not man enough to actually train, practice and play the game.

That was until about mid-way through the season my freshman year.  After a game (we had won, 5-2, and I had gone 3 for 4 with a double and a solo home run) as I was drying off from the shower, mikey came up.

“Er, Jake, My dad’s in town.  He saw the game and he’d really like to take you and me to dinner.”

The idea of a meal away from the university dining hall was attractive.  “That would be sweet, dude.” 

mikey and I met his dad at the restaurant at the upscale hotel where his dad was staying and it was a strange dinner indeed.  His dad had a lot of questions about the game, the team, my playing, my background.  mikey was practically silent throughout and any conversation between mikey and his dad was strained and uncomfortable.  I was guessing (wrongly as it ultimately turned out) that mikey and his did didn’t get along.  mikey could hardly wait to get away from his dad and as soon as dinner was over, mikey popped out of his seat, claiming to have to study for a test.  I rose from my chair too, thanked his dad for the dinner and said I would head back to campus with mikey. 

“Oh, Jake, stay,” said dad.  “”We’ve got so much to talk about.  I’ll make sure you get back to campus.”  mikey already was half-way out the door.  So I sat back down, and dad and i discussed baseball and sports in general for another 20 minutes over a second cup of coffee.  Then dad suggested we adjourn to the bar for a drink.

“Sir, I can’t  go into the bar.  I’m only 18 years old.”

“Ah, I forgot.  You seem so mature.  We can have that drink up in my room.”

I was turned on by the prospect of the drink and I was naive so we went up the the man’s room.  I won’t relate all the small talk and seduction, but before long mikey’s dad was begging to suck my dick.  I was really resistant.  How could I face mikey in the locker room, I wondered, after his dad had sucked my cock. “Not to worry,” dad assured me.  “Mikey knows that i love to suck jock dick. 

“And I love to take jock cock up my ass,” he added.

And so he did – for the rest of the night.  I got back to the dorm around 5:00am – in time to shower and head out for my morning 10 mile run.  None the worse for wear.  And facing mikey in the locker room that afternoon was not as awkward as I had presumed.  mikey just smiled and asked if I had had a nice evening. 

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

If you are only average looking like you claim then how do you get these beautiful women to date you?

I suspect by the same means by which I get so many fags to serve me.  Force of personality.  Alpha-ness.  Sheer animal magnetism.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

Well, the title is misleading.  rich knows better than to complain.  he knows that he is lucky to be a part of my life, even if that part is to serve me.  But over the past few days, I have sensed a note of displeasure on rich’s part – largely focused on my expectation (a nonverbalized expectation, but we have grown beyond the stage where my expectations need be expressly stated) that he care for the women’s clothing in the apartment.

My current squeeze is Amanda, a former fashion model in her late-30s (I would guess) who now runs a modeling agency.  (Fashion modeling is a strange profession.  The girls are pretty much washed up and played out by the time they reach late 20s or early 30s.  A few live on in TV cosmetics ads.  But most just drift into something else – like marrying sugar daddies – or exist in that stupor that is the result of the amphetamines that they relied on to maintain those rail thin bodies.  The smart ones go on to run modeling agencies.  They allow themselves to age with grace and beauty, they put on a little weight and become WOMEN, as opposed to girls.)  That’s my Amanda.

In any event, Amanda has not moved in (and I haven’t pressed her to or even suggested that that might be a good idea).  But she does stay over from time to time.  And when she does, since she’s in a business where people notice what she wears, she keeps a few outfits at my place so she doesn’t have to go to work the next morning in the same outfit she wore to work the day before.  rich, of course, is expected to maintain the outfits Amanda keeps at my place.  That means caring for her undergarments and bringing her outer garments to the dry cleaners.  his displeasure at this aspect of his service is plain from his attitude (and I expect that there will be some “attitude adjustment” in the near future). 

But I think the real issue is that on the not infrequent nights when Amanda does stay over, rich does not get those middle of the night phone calls from me directing him to come down to my apartment so that I can fuck his ass.  This is a bigger problem.  rich knows that he has no right to demand or expect that I will fuck him whenever he wishes (since it is not my role in life to service rich’s sexual needs), but he is resentful nonetheless.  This, I suspect, is going take a different kind of “attitude adjustment” and rich is not likely to find that a pleasing prospect.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

I came home form work on Tuesday and the apartment was cleaned up, and rich was no where n sight.  he had not done a perfect job, but I was not about to point out the flaws in his work just yet.  I noticed that the windows in his apartment were dark when I cam home from work so I assumed that rich finished his chores at my place and went into his office and was working late. 

I went out to dinner in a neighborhood spot and ran into a buddy from the gym.  We chatted and then hit a couple of bars, listened to some good music and I came home.  Woke up abut 2:00am with a real need to nut.  So I called rich.

“I need your ass down here.  One minute.”

“yes Sir.”

Forty-five seconds later, rich let himself into my apartment and came into the bedroom.  he knelt by the side of the bed awaiting my instructions.

“Clothes off, kneel on the bed on all fours, that beautiful ass-cunt up.

rich sprang to action like his life depended on it (as, in a way, it does).

And I was on him and in him like an animal.  No prelims; I was balls deep in one thrust and then i piston fucked to climax in an unusually short time..

rich was breathless.  I withdrew and rolled over on my back.

“Clean me off and get the fuck out.  I need some sleep.”

And he did.  And he was gone.  Sweet! 

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

That last post about yourself and what makes an Alpha Man. That was SO on point and well worded. Goes back to my previous post to You. The brain is what truly makes and Alpha, and the actions that follow through. Thank you Sir, for wording that so other fags can “get it”. Once they understand their place, and Your place, then the world could be a fucking great place. I know my place and I embrace it. I will continue to follow your intriguing blog here, and spread the word.

The world truly is a better place when fags know their place.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

Can we see a picture of the stud Sir ?! I just recently started following and would truly love to see the Sir

There are no pictures of me or of any of my fags on my blog.  For the time being, I prefer to keep it that way.  My thoughts on this may change as time goes by.

I can tell you, however, that you are likely to be unimpressed by my physical appearance, even if I did post a pic of myself on my blog.  I am quite ordinary looking.  I was (and am) an athlete, and I have a pretty good body; not like those super defined or bulked out models whose pics I put on my blog.  But a decent athlete’s  body nonetheless – firm, tight, little body fat.  I am just a shade under 6 feet tall and i weigh about 160-165 lbs.  I have light brown hair, styled short, and killer green eyes.  I think that what makes a Man an Alpha is not so much his physical appearance but rather, his bearing – how he moves, how he carries himself, how he reacts to the world around him.  And, of course, his brain – how he thinks and how he translates those thoughts into action.  Those things would not show up on a photograph in any event.

My dick probably is somewhat larger than ordinary, but certainly is not impressively massive.  And I think it probably is a little thicker than most.  I am blessed with balls that do the work of three or four men – literally.  I can cum buckets or drop loads repeatedly.  But again, what makes a man an Alpha is not so much what he’s got, but how he uses it.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

Sir, Did you every consider making fag rich put the deeds to his new apartment in your name (hence you owning the apartment) You could charge him rent. Maybe you could get him to change the deeds? I would happily sign over my house to you to enjoy the life fag rich has with you Sir

I have to say that this did not occur to me.  I will have to ponder Anonymous’ suggestion.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

Sir, I noticed in your last post you referred to Fag Rich as a slave. Are you now embracing slavery?

I think that rich has progressed to the point well beyond mere fag-dom.  I don’t know whether I am ready to “embrace” owning a slave, but I know that rich has evolved into something more than (or less than – take your pick) a mere fag.  I am on the cusp of this new discovery.

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

I kind of stalled leaving work yesterday.  I hung around after everyone left the office.  Did some administrative paper work that I hate.  It was maybe 7:30 before I got home.  The apartment was in total disarray. 

This was not unexpected.  No one really had been attending to the place in the month since Josiah had left for Shanghai.  I’m not really a slob (meaning, I put my dirty clothes in the laundry basket; I don’t leave them on the floor), but still there were mounds of laundry to be done, a dishwasher full of dirty dishes and a sink overflowing with dishes and glasses that could not fit into the dishwasher, soap scum on the shower walls – that kind of stuff.  It was clear that rich had never made it into his office (and rich later explained that he was able to get a lot of his work done by dealing with his assistants over the phone).

Not only was there a lot undone, but a lot of what rich had done was not done properly.  I walked him through the apartment, pointing out streaks where counters had been wiped down, dust accumulated in corners, finger prints on glass table tops, an improperly made bed.  As I continued to point out flaws in his work, rich became more and more nervous and agitated and was visibly upset.  

“You know this is unacceptable,” I demanded.

“Yes, Sir.  Or no Sir,’ he stuttered.   “i know you are disappointed in me.  But i can do better.”

“Oh.  You WILL do better.  Think you can get this all squared away and under control by this time tomorrow?”

the slave heaved a sigh of relief at the knowledge that it would be given another chance.  “Oh yes Sir.  You’ll see.  Everything will be perfect.”

I smiled to myself.  Of course everything would not be perfect.  rich would be spending the rest of his life striving for perfection and never achieving it.  I would always find flaw in his service to me.  How else to keep the bitch constantly off guard.

“Good boy..  Now I need you on your knees.”

the slave understood that it was about to suck my cock.  it groaned both in anticipation of my load and of the thrill of having been given the opportunity to please me in that way (like all had been forgiven) and in frustration because his chastity device was thwartting his ability to get hard.

But I have to say, the slave gave me one of the better blow jobs he’s every given.  There is something to be said for instilling fear in a slave’s heart and mind.  But I didn’t tell him that.

“Go home and get some sleep, bitch.  Tomorrow will be a better day.”

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha in 2013, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!

My fag rich moved into his new apartment in my building over the weekend and I went down to his place to check it out Sunday evening.  And to begin to explain to the bitch how things are going to be changing in its life.

rich moved in (so to speak) on Saturday, and while he fully expected me to come down and check his digs out, I never told him when I would be coming.  the bitch knew enough to be ready for me (or as ready as it could be all things considered)  Still, I took it by surprise when I showed up at its place around 8:00 last night.  I have the key and so I let myself in.  To say that fag rich had “moved in” is putting it generously.  it has a bed and some clothes in its closet.  That is all it needs for now.   The rest of its furniture and stuff will be coming over from its old apartment over the next few weeks. 

I explained to rich that his first priority every day is to clean my apartment.  rich is to enter my apartment after I have left for work and to make sure that it is meticulously clean before I return from work.  My laundry is to be done and my clothes ironed and put away.  I expect fresh linens on my bed and in my bath every day. 

rich protested that that would make him late for work.  I explained that there are new priorities now, and that there will be still other priorities in the future.  Since the bitch is, in a way, its own boss at work, it can arrange its work schedule around these new priorities.

“Do you understand, bitch?” I asked.

There was a long pause.  “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Another pause.  “Yes Sir.”

“You may thank me.”

And it did thank me.