****** Using Wayne by loopy ******
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Using Wayne


This story is dedicated to Dr. Wayne H.

Wayne and I met in a chat room on the internet.

It started off innocently enough. We just shared some pretty boring information
about ourselves - small talk, something that I've never had much use for. But
over the following days and weeks, we ran into each other in the chat room
quite a few times, and we started sharing more about ourselves, and becoming
more open. It's funny how that works in chat rooms - how the normal barriers
that we put up when we meet people just don't seem to exist in those rooms - at
least not to the same extent. So anyway, I started to like him - not in a
'falling in love' sort of a way - because I've never quite understood how
people can 'fall in love' with other people on the 'net who they've never met.
But I started to like him in a way that made me feel like I hoped that we might
meet one day.

Over the weeks, I noticed a change in Wayne's interaction with me. It started
out so subtly, that I was hardly aware at first. I'd shared with Wayne some of
my life experiences - and he'd led a pretty sheltered life. He was still quite
closeted as a gay man, and I was out to almost everyone in my life, and I began
to detect that he was envious of me. It wasn't jealousy - it didn't feel like a
negative thing at all. It was more like he was looking up to me - almost like I
was becoming a 'big brother' figure to him. Of course, Wayne is 32, and is over
6 feet tall, and I'm 31 and a few inches shorter, so perhaps the 'big brother'
analogy is not a perfect one - but I did begin to develop a real sense that he
was starting to look up to me for advise and encouragement in his life.

Wayne's sexual experience was fairly limited. Being as closeted as he was, and
coming from a small city, he hadn't had the opportunity to get together with
many men for fear that he might be exposed as gay. Being 'outed' was a big
concern for him - one that I could sympathise with, but couldn't really relate
to. Anyway, Wayne ended up sharing with me about the kind of sex he fantasized
about - how he longed to be dominated and used by another man. His desire for
this this type of sex was so strong that he didn't feel he could perform well
sexually unless he was with a dominant partner, which was just one more reason
why he had not had a lot of sexual experience - he said he didn't know how to
go about meeting the kind of men that he fantasized about.

So anyway, I shared with Wayne some of the experiences I'd had with domination
and submission. He seemed especially interested in the encounters I'd had with
a guy named Steve - a guy who, like Wayne, was turned on by being controlled
and humiliated. Steve had asked me - begged me, actually - to help him fulfill
his fantasies, so over several weeks, we had met up a few different times, and
I had agreed to help him bring his fantasies to life. This had included some
verbal abuse, pissing on him, having him beg me to let him suck me or to allow
him to lick my ass, having him grovel at my feet, etc. Wayne had a hard time
containing his excitement when I shared these encounters with him - and I guess
it was around that time that I really started to notice his change in attitude
toward me. I know it sounds kind of arrogant to say it - but the truth is, it
almost felt like he was worshipping me. And the more we spoke, the more he'd
gush about me, and it started to turn me on.

When I finally pointed out to him what I saw occurring, he didn't even make an
effort to deny it. He told me about how he was becoming obsessed with me - how
he would go to bed at night, and would toss and turn thinking about me. He
would masturbate time after time thinking about having me dominate and use him.
He told me that he was disturbed by thoughts of me throughout his day - that it
made it hard for him to concentrate at work. Now, this might sound kind of
weird - and I suppose it was. I suppose I could have become concerned that his
obsession with me was getting out of control, like some crazy fan of a famous
celebrity who ends up locked up in prison due to taking the obsession too far.
But the truth was that he didn't have my last name, he didn't know my address
or phone number, he had no way of tracking me down, so I really had nothing to
worry about. And besides, like I said, it turned me on to have someone so
desperate to worship me. It brought me an incredible feeling of power. Wayne
told me that it was his greatest desire to be my slave. The idea of having a
slave had never entered my own sexual fantasies - but I found that the more he
treated me like I deserved to be serviced by him, the more turned on I felt. It
was a great feeling - powerfully sexual. His adoration of me would make my cock
hard and stiff without me even touching it - and thick pre-cum would ooze out
of the slit and onto my chair and drip onto the floor as I would sit at my
computer chatting with him. It seemed to make him crazy when I'd share this
with him - he wanted desperately to be kneeling at my feet, licking up my pre-
cum. It was hard not to be pulled into his fantasy - imagining him groveling
before me, willing to do anything I told him to - *anything*. I found my own
fantasy-life growing and expanding in ways that I'd never even had fleeting
thoughts about before. Wayne liked dirty sex. He wanted my piss. He dreamed
about my shit. Can you imagine that? This man dreamed that I would allow him
the privilege of licking shit from my asshole. It was incredible to me. It made
me shake my head back and forth in wonder. It made me feel like a god.

And then there came a point when I knew I had to meet him. Over the period of
months that we had been chatting, Wayne's adoration of me had brought me to the
place where I longed to dominate him just as much as he wanted to service me.
By this time, I had given him my phone number, and we were speaking regularly
on the phone. Wayne is a doctor - can you believe it? A doctor wanting to be my
slave? Anyway, he had the money to pay for the calls, and he was so desperate
to worship and please me on the phone that he gladly paid for the long distance
charges - which ended up being substantial amounts of money, I'm sure.
Sometimes when we spoke on the phone, I would have him tell me how great and
perfect he thought I was - how he longed to be at my feet, knowing that to be
the place where he truly belonged. At other times, I would make him do things
for my entertainment - like telling him to piss into a glass and then listening
to him drink it down. Or even having him shit into his hand and then smell,
kiss, lick, and eventually eat pieces of the shit. It was such a turn-on for me
to hear him gagging as he bit off a piece of the shit and swished it around his
mouth as I had commanded him. He told me, however, that as much as it pleased
him to degrade himself in this manner for me as I listened, that tasting his
own shit could never provide him with the kind of pleasure that tasting mine
would give him. He had never tasted shit other than his own, and it was his
greatest desire to taste mine.

Wayne was elated when I spoke of the possibility of meeting him 'for real'. I
didn't quite know how I wanted to work such an encounter - I mean, Wayne lived
quite a distance from me - across the Atlantic Ocean. He could hardly jump in
his car and drive to my home for a quicky, and then head back to his place. If
we were to arrange for a meeting, it would have to involve a visit of at least
a few days. The idea seemed so odd. I was seriously considering allowing this
man to come to my home - a man who I'd never met - and beyond that, he would
visit me knowing full well that he would be expected to serve me as my slave
for his entire visit. It seemed like something out of this world. But I knew it
was what I wanted. How many men get to experience the pleasure of owning
another man - a man who would willingly submit to any desire, no matter how
fucked up and depraved? I knew that I couldn't pass up such an opportunity.

We started speaking in specific terms about when the visit would take place,
and how long it would last. We agreed on a stretch of 3 days that worked well
for both of us. Wayne emailed me once he had purchased the plane ticket - he
was really going to go through with this!

As the day drew nearer for Wayne's visit to commence, I found myself feeling
more and more bizarre about the whole deal. My imagination would run wildly in
directions that it had never travelled before - thinking about what I would do
with my slave. My mind was filled with thoughts of using Wayne for my sexual
pleasure - knowing full well that his pleasure would be satisfied through
pleasing me.

And then, the day arrived. It was the strangest feeling getting into my car and
heading for the airport to pick up my slave. My cock grew harder in my pants
the closer I got to my destination, and I was afraid that I would have a hard
time concealing it.

I arrived at the airport and waited at the designated gate. Wayne had sent me a
photo of himself over the internet, and had told me what he'd be wearing when
he arrived. I scanned the crowd as people began to exit the gate and move into
the foyer where I was waiting. I saw him glancing around, trying to figure out
who I might be. He looked vulnerable - I felt powerful.

I didn't reveal myself to him right away - instead, I just watched him. I
watched him gather his luggage together, while regularly glancing around,
trying to see who I might be in the crowd. I wondered what he was thinking -
was he worried that I might not show up? That would leave him completely
stranded. I thought I could detect a look of concern on his face.

I had decided that, in order for our time together to have the greatest effect
for both of us, I would not allow myself to be predictable with Wayne. I wanted
to keep him on edge for his entire stay. And I also wanted to be clear on our
roles right from the very beginning. We already knew enough about each other
that there would be no need to sit down and have a chat before the fun was to
begin. I wanted him to have a clear sense from the very first second with me
that I was the Master and he was the slave. With that in mind, I walked up to
him and tugged rather forcefully on his arm. He jerked back in surprise at my
forwardness. "My car is this way," I said, releasing him and walking briskly
away. He scrambled to pick up his luggage and follow after me.

I could sense his nervousness as we drove to my apartment. I was pretty sure
that he was questioning the wisdom of travelling such a long distance to visit
me, not really knowing if he could trust me. I wanted to add to his
nervousness, so I said nothing at all on the entire trip to my place. He knew
well enough not to speak unless spoken to. I relished making him sweat.

We got to my apartment, and I showed him in - he, of course, carried all of his
own luggage.

I had him put his luggage aside, and with a flick of my hand, directed him to
have a seat on the couch. Then I crawled on top of his lap, sitting facing him,
placed my hands on the back of his head, and pulled his face toward me, kissing
him deeply. I kissed him forcefully and passionately, sticking my long tongue
back into his throat. I pulled my face away long enough to tell him to rub his
hands over my ass and to belch loudly in his face, before returning to kissing
him roughly. I pulled his head back by his hair, and kissed him with such force
that I could tell he was having difficulty breathing. I wanted to send him
mixed messages - to confuse him. I wanted him to feel grateful that I was
starting things off with relatively non-threatening activity, while making him
nervous about the intensity of my passion, wondering how rough I might become
with him. The kissing continued as I felt his hands massaging my ass, and I
rubbed my crotch against his stomach, allowing him to feel the hard-on in my
jeans.

Suddenly, wanting to catch him off guard again, I pushed his shoulders with
enough force to thrust me into a standing position in front of him. He cowered
slightly, as if he thought I might hit him, but instead I hawked and spit a
huge wad of gob into his face. I then smiled at him and said, "Would you like a
beer?" He stuttered for a moment - giving me a clear indication that my actions
were having the desired effect of making him ill-at-ease, before answering that
he would like a beer. I told him to get us both one.

We sipped our beers in silence. Silence can be so much more powerful than words
at times. I sat on the couch while Wayne sat on the floor. He seemed to be
settling in a bit more - seeming less nervous. I could tell by the look on his
face that he had a sense that he was exactly where he belonged - at my feet.

It was mid-afternoon of Day 1 together. I knew that the visit would pass
quickly - and there was so much to accomplish. Wayne and I finished our beers.
"Get me another one," I told him, "and when you bring it to me, make sure you
crawl here with your face on the floor." Wayne obeyed me, of course. It was so
incredible to see this man - a good looking, successful man - grovelling on his
face at my feet, bringing me my beer as commanded.

"I have to piss," I said, finishing my second beer and belching loudly. I stood
and began to walk toward the bathroom. "Follow me!" I commanded, and Wayne
scrambled after me on his hands and knees like a dog.

I stood in front of the toilet, Wayne kneeling to one side, looking up at me
expectantly. "Well, pull down my fucking fly!" I told him sternly, watching
with a grin as he scrambled to obey me.

I pulled out my cock and aimed it at the toilet bowl. I avoided Wayne's gaze,
but could see from the corner of my eye that he was looking up at me
expectantly - hoping that I would share my piss with him. Ignoring him, I
pissed into the bowl, watching my piss splash as it hit the water. My bladder
was full and I pissed with force, enjoying the sound as it sprayed into the
water, pleased to be torturing Wayne by denying him what he wanted most at that
moment. When I finished, I looked down at him kneeling beside the toilet, a
disappointed look on his face. I shook my cock at him, spraying the last drop
onto his face. He looked up at me, and then down at the piss in the toilet. I
could tell that he was hoping that I might allow him to lap up some of the piss
in the bowl like a thirsty dog. He looked back up at me longingly. "Flush it,"
I sneered. Dutifully, he reached over and flushed, watching disappointingly as
my piss swirled around and was swallowed up by the toilet.

I walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. Wayne returned to his
place at my feet.

"Let's be really clear about something," I said. "You are a worthless piece of
shit."

"I know it, sir," he said.

"When I want to use you, I will. When I don't, then you can fucking suffer.
Your wishes and desires are immaterial to me. You're a sick, twisted bitch who
wants to be my toilet. Well you aren't worthy of my piss - or anything else
from my body. If I choose to share it with you, it will be only when I'm
feeling pity towards you and the pathetic excuse for a human being that you
are. Do you understand!"

"I understand, sir," Wayne said respectfully, bowing his head.

"Good," I said. "Now pull off my socks."

Wayne obeyed me, gently lifting each of my feet and removing my dirty white
socks.

"Lick my feet," I commanded. It felt so good to have his tongue lapping at my
feet. He carefully licked between my toes, eating the lint and other dirt he
found there. I smiled at how fucked the situation was - what kind of a self-
respecting man would be on his face at the feet of another man, licking his
feet like a dog? Wayne disgusted me and turned me on at the same time.

"Clean under my toe nails," I told him. "There's some dirty scum you can pick
out with your teeth." I know how much that shit under the toe nails smells, and
it pleased me to know that he must be sickened at the taste. "Chew off the toe
nail on my big toe," I directed. "But be fucking gentle!" Wayne chewed as
commanded, showing me the toe nail on his tongue when he was finished. "Good,"
I said. "You can suck on that for a while."

"Thank you, sir," Wayne responded.

We sat in silence for a while. I broke the silence with a fart. Wayne was still
kneeling in front of me as the smell filled the air. I knew that he wanted to
be closer to that smell - although I really can't understand why. The smell was
rank, and any normal man would have wanted to leave the room. But I knew that
Wayne, fucked up man that he was, wanted to sniff that smell straight from the
source. I was hit with disgust at the thought. "You're a twisted fuck," I told
him, spitting in his face. I saw a shiver run through his body as my gob
splattered his face, and I knew that his cock had leaped in his pants at the
ecstasy of being spit upon. "You're a twisted fuck!" I yelled, kicking him in
the chest and knocking him backwards on to the floor. "Now get me another
fucking beer!"

Wayne scrambled to his knees and crawled to the kitchen madly, tripping over
himself in his effort to bring me the beer quickly. Watching him crawl back
gave me an erection. My fly was still lowered from the piss I'd taken earlier,
and my cock poked out of the opening as it grew. Wayne extended his hand to
give me the beer, and I snatched it from him roughly. With my other hand, I
grabbed his hair and pulled his face toward my semi-hard cock. "Suck!" I told
him, pleased to feel his warm mouth enveloping my cock. I kept a firm hold on
Wayne's hair, forcing his head up and down on my cock, pulling him down so hard
he would gag, but not giving him even a second to recover. At one point, he was
literally choking, and I could see him struggling to catch his breath, but I
ignored his panic and continued to force him down on my cock. I could see him
fighting his natural instinct to push himself away from me in order to rescue
himself from my relentless jabbing at his throat. But wisely, he held back,
finally recovering despite my continued fucking of his face. "That's a good
bitch," I told him.

"Pull down my jeans," I commanded, releasing his hair with a push. He grabbed
onto my jeans and pulled them to the floor, slipping them over my feet and
putting them neatly aside. I grabbed his hair again, forcing him down onto my
now throbbing cock. I grew rougher with each thrust, commanding him to "Eat it,
bitch! Suck me good you motherfucker! Swallow my fucking cock you worthless
piece of trash!" His slobbery mouth felt good on my cock, and he was moaning
with pleasure as he tried desperately to please me. I pulled his head up and
then mashed his face into my balls. "Lick them!" I said. "Lick my fucking balls
like the dog that you are! Show me what a bitch you can be!" Wayne licked
madly, his spittle covering his face. "Bark!" I told him, and he barked like a
dog. "Again!" He barked and licked, trying hard to do both at once, and I
chuckled at his efforts. It was comical to see a grown man willingly humiliated
this way.

I leaned back into the couch, allowing my ass to hang just over the edge of the
seat as Wayne continued to lick my balls. I pushed his face lower, directing
him toward my asshole. He moaned as his tongue touched my hairy crack. Still
holding his hair, I forced his head up and down as his nose was crammed into my
hole - wiping my ass with his face. I felt a slight cramp in my stomach, and
with a feeling of incredible pleasure, I forced a fart out of my hole directly
into Wayne's face. Wayne cried out in ecstasy at my generous gift, sniffing
wildly and lapping at my shithole like a hungry animal. The smell of my fart
filled the air as I forced out a second one, right onto his tongue. Wayne grew
wild with pleasure, feeding into my own feelings of power and ecstasy. "I'm
going to cum you disgusting bitch!" I yelled, as I pulled his face up just in
time to squirt my load into his eyes. Wayne was panting and almost crying, he
was so turned on, as I wiped the last of my cum across his lips.

"Thank you, sir!" he gushed, "thank you so much. You are so incredible, sir.
You're so perfect for me!" I pushed his head aside roughly, ignoring his cries
of praise for me.

"You can jerk off if you want, bitch," I said.

"I came already, sir," he responded. "I came in my pants without touching
myself."

I threw him a disgusted look. It struck me how pathetic he must be, getting so
turned on by my farts that he would cum without stroking his cock. The mix of
emotions I felt was unreal. I was intoxicated by the feeling of power,
disgusted that a man such as Wayne was actually in my home, and aroused by his
willingness to degrade himself at my command.

I looked at him and smiled. This man at my feet was my slave. He would do
anything for me. He would become my toilet. Although I had pissed on Steve -
the guy I'd previously spoken to Wayne about - Steve had not wanted to drink my
piss. I had never pissed down the throat of another man. I relished the thought
of what I knew I was about to do. Humans don't drink piss - they are revolted
by it. It's seen as dirty. But the man at my feet was about to drink mine. To
him, it didn't matter that piss was unclean, or that people piss in toilets,
not in the mouths of other human beings. He was willing to become a toilet for
me - to lower himself to that level because we both knew that he had no self-
worth, and therefore, was worthless. On the other hand, Wayne believed - and
had convinced me to believe - that I was worthy of pissing down the throat of
another man. I was worthy of having a slave ready to fulfill my every desire,
and of being worshipped by a lowly being such as Wayne.

"Take off your clothes," I commanded Wayne. I wanted to see his body. I knew
that it was a well-defined body, pleasing to the eye. A useless fuck with a
pretty face and a nice body - that was Wayne.

Wayne was naked, kneeling at my feet, looking up at me expectantly. He cock was
growing hard despite the fact that he'd only just cum. I stood up, waving my
cock before him, slapping his face with it.

"Who are you!" I asked him.

"Wayne," he replied.

"Wrong!" I answered, slapping his face with my hand. "What the fuck are you?"

"You're slave!" he asked.

SLAP! "No you fucking moron! What the fuck are you?!"

"Your toilet!" he asked in a whisper, a look of fear and uncertainty on his
face.

"Louder!" I commanded.

"Your toilet!" he screamed.

I spit in his face. "You disgust me," I said. "You are the lowest form of
human. A man like you shouldn't be allowed to exist."

"I know it," Wayne said, his voice trembling. "I'm not worthy to be here in
front of you, sir. I'm not worthy of the privilege of drinking down your piss.
I beg you to forgive me for the useless piece of shit that I am."

"Shut up!" I yelled at him, slapping his face again. He cowered.

I grabbed him by the hair, pulling his face toward my cock. He opened his mouth
and sucked my soft penis through his lips. He looked up at my eyes. I sneered,
relaxing my bladder, feeling the piss begin to stream into his mouth, feeling
him suck it down. I farted as I pissed, and the smell quickly surrounded us. I
watched the muscles in his cheeks as he drank. I had never witnessed such a
base act. I watched his adam's apple move up and down as he drank down my
recycled beer. And I knew at that moment more than I'd ever realized before
that this was what I wanted. I wanted to be this powerful. I wanted to be
obeyed this way. I needed to own a man the way I was owning Wayne as he sucked
down the last of my piss. I smiled as I realized that few men on earth would
ever know the feeling I was feeling just then - the complete power over another
human being, willingly submitting to my fucked up desires.

I wanted to milk each experience with Wayne for its maximum enjoyment. I didn't
want to see how low he would sink for me within our first few hours together. I
wanted, instead, to slowly lead him down the path of depravation - allowing
both of us to experience the full effect of every degrading act I commanded
Wayne to perform. For this reason, we spent the rest of our first evening
together taking it slow. I fucked him - at first slowly, and then mercilessly -
pounding his ass as he cried out in pain and satisfaction. I fucked him long
and hard - slapping his ass, spitting in his mouth, and belching in his face
while doing so. I pulled off the condom once I was finished, making him clean
it both inside and out.

When we were both exhausted from the experience, I decided it was time for bed.
Wayne slept on the floor at the foot of my bed - the appropriate place for a
dog.

The next morning, I woke Wayne by pissing on his sleeping body. My piss
splattered around the room as it splashed on his skin. He struggled to get to
his knees and take my cock into his mouth. I allowed him the pleasure of
drinking it down, knowing from the rancid smell that it must taste disgusting.
"Drink up, bitch."

When I'd finished, I commanded him to clean the mess on the floor. "Lick up
that piss you allowed to splash around. Wipe it up with your body. You're a
human rag and nothing more." Wayne rubbed himself in the piss as commanded. I
knew that I could easily get used to seeing a man degrade himself for me on a
regular basis. It provided me with such a rush.

I decided that Wayne and I would take a little trip out of town. I live a
couple of hours from a large national park where the two of us could easily
find a bit of privacy together. I brought a collar and a leash for Wayne and
decided that he would be my dog for the day.

The parking lot was pretty much empty when we arrived. The park is so large,
that I knew we'd have no problem having as much space to ourselves as we
needed. We got out of my car and I showed Wayne the leash and collar. "What are
you!" I asked him. "Your dog," he replied.

I made him strip off all of his clothes except for his underwear. Then I had
him get down on all fours beside the car as I attached the collar around his
neck. I could see him glancing around, hoping that no one else was around to
see him being treated this way. I pretended not to notice the concerned look on
his face.

"Come on," I whistled at him, pulling on the leash. We walked up a grassy hill
and toward the trees - Wayne walking on his hands and knees beside me. I had
made Wayne pack us a picnic lunch the night before, which I carried with me.
There was no one within sight, but it felt incredible to know that someone
might walk out of the trees unexpectedly at any minute. I knew that Wayne must
be feeling so vulnerable and powerless, and yet, he continued to do as I said.
He was bigger than me - and surely stronger - but it was clear to both of us
that I was the Master and he was the slave. If I wanted him to crawl at my side
like a dog - no matter who might see it - then that's what he'd do.

The hill was large and it was a long climb. The ground was soft, but I knew
that it couldn't be terribly comfortable for Wayne to be walking on his bare
hands and bare knees. I smiled at the thought.

We walked for quite a while. Finally, in the distance, I could see an area with
a fire pit and a few small picnic tables. I pulled the leash and directed Wayne
to follow me there. We arrived and I tied him to one of the benches. He looked
relieved at the opportunity to rest.

I pulled out the picnic lunch. Wayne had made sandwiches, and I threw one on
the ground for him. He reached over to grab it with his hand. Backhanding him
across the face, I yelled at him about using his hands. "Didn't I fucking tell
you that you're my dog?!" I demanded. He hung his head. I grabbed his hair,
pulling his face close to mine and screaming at him, "Didn't I?!"

"Yes, sir, you did," he said, his voice shaking.

"Do fucking dogs eat with their fucking hands?!" I asked, still screaming in
his face.

"No, sir. They don't, sir. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"The problem is that you weren't thinking," I said, slightly more calmly. "I
guess I shouldn't expect you to think, seeing that you're a total fucking
idiot."

Wayne said nothing, continuing to look down. I released his hair.

I picked up my sandwich and took a bite. "Good sandwich," I said, chewing
loudly. Wayne's stomach growled, and I knew that he must be quite hungry. He
looked up at me, his eyes asking permission to eat the sandwich that lay on the
ground beside him. I smiled.

"I'll bet you want to eat," I said, taking another bite of my sandwich.

"I'd like to, sir," he responded.

Chewing up the food in my mouth, I walked over to Wayne's sandwich, pulled off
the top slice of bread, and spit the food in my mouth into his sandwich. I then
placed the slice of bread back on top, squishing it down. Then I snorted snot
back into my throat, hawked loudly, and spit a huge wad of greenish gob on top
of the sandwich on the ground. "Do you still want to eat it!" I asked him. "Yes
sir," he replied, "I do."

I grabbed my fly, pulling out my cock, and aiming it toward the sandwich on the
ground. I sprayed my piss onto the sandwich, the bread becoming all mushy and
yellow. "Do you still want to eat it?" I asked, shaking the last few drops from
my cock. "Yes," he responded quietly, although I couldn't tell if he was
sincere or not. "Then eat," I said.

Wayne bent forward, putting his face over the sandwich like a dog. He began to
suck the soggy bread into his mouth - I smiled at the slurping sound he made.
Like a hungry animal, he devoured the sandwich. My cock grew in my pants as I
watched him swallow it down.

"Time to play," I said, unhooking the leash from his collar. I picked up a
stick about a foot long from the ground. Wayne looked concerned, as if I might
hit him with it. I smiled, pleased at the frightened look on his face. Instead,
I turned my body, throwing the stick off toward a patch of grass. "Fetch!" I
yelled at him.

Wayne looked incredulous, and hesitated for just a second. I glared at him with
an angry look, and he quickly took off running on his hands and feet. He found
where the stick had landed, picked it up in his mouth, and brought it back to
me. "Good boy," I said, patting his head. Once again I threw the stick, and
once again, Wayne went bounding after it. As he came running back toward me
with the stick in his mouth, I could see a couple of guys walking down the hill
towards us about 100 feet away. I smiled, knowing that Wayne hadn't yet seen
them. The two guys kept walking closer. Wayne was kneeling at my feet panting,
wearing only his underwear, and I could see the looks of confusion on the faces
of the two young men as they stared at him. Wayne had his back to them, still
unaware of their presence. I smiled. Once again, I threw the stick, this time
in the general direction of the two guys, and yelled loudly, "Fetch!"
Dutifully, Wayne turned to race after the stick, but stopped dead in his tracks
as soon as he saw the two visitors, now about 30 feet from us. The two guys
were staring, of course. I kicked Wayne in the ass, "I said 'Fetch!'," I yelled
at him. Ignoring his pride, Wayne scampered over to the stick, grabbed it in
his mouth, and ran back towards me. The two guys walked on, shaking their
heads, huge smiles on their faces. I looked down at Wayne who was once again at
my feet, the stick between his teeth. I could tell by his face that he was
mortified, and yet he was clearly determined to please me no matter what the
cost. The feeling of power I had at that moment was so intense, it is hard to
describe.

The hot afternoon sun was beating down on us, and I decided that it was time to
head back to the car. It would take us at least a good hour to get back there.
For the first while, I had Wayne carry me on his back like a horse. I could
tell that my weight was becoming burdensome to him within minutes of starting
this activity, but I kept on riding him for a good 20 minutes before I could
tell that he was fighting with all of his strength to keep from collapsing. I
then began walking again, leading Wayne by his leash.

As we walked through a small patch of bushes, Wayne still on his hands and
knees beside me, I noticed a small brown pile of shit beside a bush - dog shit.
There were little flies dancing around the turds. We walked up towards it, and
then walked a few steps past it. I stopped, yanking on Wayne's leash violently,
taking him totally off guard. I asked him forcefully, "What did you do wrong?"

Wayne looked startled and confused. "I-I, I don't know, sir," he stammered.

"Wrong answer!" I yelled, slapping his face.

With fear in his eyes, Wayne glanced around, trying to figure out what he might
have done wrong. In a shaking voice he said, "I'm sorry, sir. I really don't
know what I did wrong. Please forgive me, sir." He cowered, expecting me to hit
him again.

"You stupid, fucking, worthless piece of shit!" I yelled at him. "I try to have
a fun day with you, but you just have to fuck it up, don't you?!"

"I'm sorry, sir," he said again, still obviously clueless about why I was
angry.

"What are you?" I asked him, anger in my voice.

"Your dog, sir," he replied.

"That's right," I said. "You're my stupid, fucking dog!"

Wayne still looked confused.

"What did we just pass?" I asked.

Wayne glanced back, his eyes falling on the pile of dog shit a few feet behind
us. "The dog shit, sir?" he asked.

"Yes," I said impatiently, "the dog shit. You passed right by it!"

"I did, sir."

"What kind of a fucking dog passes right by a pile of dog shit?"

Wayne hung his head and said nothing, obviously very uncomfortable about where
the conversation was heading.

"Everyone knows that every single last fucking dog on the planet investigates
when it sees a pile of dog shit, isn't that right?" I demanded.

"Yes, sir," Wayne replied.

"What does a dog do when it finds another dog's shit?" I asked.

"Sniffs at it," Wayne said quietly.

"Very good," I said sarcastically. "Now get to it!"

Wayne looked up at me, I could tell he was hoping to discover the slightest
look of mercy in my eyes. Finding none, he crawled back over to the pile of dog
shit, looking down at it apprehensively.

I walked up beside him, smiling at his obvious discomfort. Being the Master is
so fucking great.

Shooting me a quick glance, Wayne bowed his head, moving his face closer to the
shit, scattering the buzzing flies. My cock grew hard as I watched Wayne put
his nose to the shit, the brown surface looking wet and mushy in the sunlight.
He sniffed a couple of times, and then looked up at me. "Sniff it more!" I
commanded, grabbing my cock through my jeans. Wayne put his face back down to
the pile. He gagged slightly, and my cock jerked when I heard him.

I crouched down beside him, wanting to get the best view I could of what was
taking place. "Lick it," I said, pulling my cock out of my jeans.

"Please don't make me," Wayne looked up at me, his voice pleading. He sounded
like he was close to tears. "Please don't - I don't think I can do it." His
begging made my cock grow stiffer, and I started to jerk it beside his face.
"Lick it," I repeated. "Lick that fucking dog shit."

Wayne looked back down at the shit, and I saw the tip of his tongue touch the
brown mound as I jerked my cock furiously. "Lick up and down the whole length
of the turds," I told him. He continued to lick, and each time he'd gag, a
burst of pleasure would shoot through my dick. Finally, I could feel an
incredible rush as I yelled out, "I'm going to cum!" and splattered the side of
Wayne's face with my cream. Fuck it felt good.

We walked the next half hour in silence - Wayne still on his hands and knees at
the end of the leash. I smiled every once in a while, remembering how powerful
it had felt to make a man do something he was so opposed to. My cum was still
on Wayne's face, dried and crusty from the warm sun.

We got back to my car, and I directed Wayne to go into the public bathroom near
us to clean up. His hands and knees were all dirty, and I gave him permission
to wash the cum off of his face.

While he was in washing up, one of the two guys we'd seen earlier walked into
the bathroom as well. Smiling, I walked over and entered behind him.

The guy was at the urinal pissing - I guessed his age to be about 20. Wayne was
at the sink, drying his face with a paper towel.

Watching the guy from behind as he pissed, I decided to take a risk and invite
him to join the fun. I stood at the urinal beside him, pulling out my cock.

"You saw us earlier today," I said to him as I pissed.

"Yeah," he said, trying to ignore me.

"I guess it must have looked pretty fucked up, seeing my friend fetching that
stick like a dog," I chuckled.

The young guy smiled. "Yeah, it did. What was up with that anyway?"

"He does whatever I tell him to," I explained. "I met him on the internet and
he said he wanted to be my slave."

The guy seemed uncomfortable, as he shook his cock, pushing it into his pants.
"No way," he said, disbelievingly.

"It's true," I told him, finishing pissing as well. "He'll do anything I tell
him to."

The guy glanced over at Wayne, who was looking at us with an uncomfortable look
on his face from over by the sinks.

"I swear to God," I told the guy. "He'll do anything. And he's really fucked
up. He'll do the sickest things you could imagine."

The guy wasn't leaving, so I guessed that I'd caught his interest enough that
he was sticking around to hear more. "What do you mean, 'sick'?" the guy asked.

"Well," I said, "he'll lick out the urinal you just pissed in if I tell him
to."

"No way!" the guy said smiling. "You're full of shit." The guy turned to leave.

"Tell him, Wayne," I said, looking over at my slave. "Tell him you do anything
I say."

Wayne looked at the guy. "I will," he said. "I'll do anything."

The guy glanced back and forth between Wayne and I, obviously not ready to
believe what he was hearing.

I glanced over at Wayne. Pointing at the urinal where the guy had just pissed,
I said, "Lick it out."

Wayne walked over to the urinal. The guy had a complete look of disbelief on
his face as he watched Wayne kneel in front of it, put his face down by the
drain, and slurp and lick at the guy's piss.

The guy looked at me with a mixture of shock and disgust on his face, before
smiling and saying, "That is the most fucked up thing I've ever seen!"

Wayne continued to lick. "Clean the other urinal too," I told him, and he moved
in front of the urinal I had pissed in, lapping at it like a dog.

"I've got to call my friend to see this!" the guy said. He pushed open the door
of the bathroom, yelling out, "Troy! Hey, Troy! You've got to come and see
this!"

A few seconds later, Troy came to the door. By this time, I had allowed Wayne
to quit licking the urinals, and he was standing beside me, looking humiliated
and concerned about what might happen next.

"What's up, Josh?" Troy asked, entering the bathroom, and looking surprised to
see Wayne and I there. Josh explained quickly what had just occurred. Troy
looked just as disbelieving as Josh had earlier. "You're shitting me," he said.

"No way!" Josh exclaimed. "It's true! He licked the urinals! He'll do anything.
Watch.." Josh turned to me and said, "Make him do something. Prove it to my
friend."

"You can make him do something," I said to Josh. "He'll do whatever you want."
I turned to Wayne. "Do whatever these guys want." He hung his head.

Josh had a big grin on his face, and Troy still looked doubtful. "What should I
make him do?" Josh asked me, almost shyly. "Anything," I said. "Anything you
can think of."

"Anything?" Josh asked, smiling and sounding amazed. He turned to Wayne and
said, "Kiss my foot."

Wayne looked at me - he almost seemed angry. I smiled. He stepped in front of
Josh and then fell to his knees on the bathroom floor. Bending forward, he
kissed Josh's dirty sneaker, while Troy's mouth dropped open in amazement.
"Holy fuck!" Troy yelled. Both guys started laughing, and I could sense how
powerful having Wayne bow before them made them feel. I knew how great that
feeling is.

"I've go to piss," Troy said. "Will he lick up my piss from the urinal like he
did for you guys?" he asked me.

"He'll do anything you tell him," I replied. "You can piss in his mouth if you
like."

Troy looked disgusted. "You're shitting me!" he said.

"I'm not," I replied. "He'll drink your piss. He'll do anything you say."

"That's sick," Troy said. "I don't want him to touch my cock like some faggot."
He thought for a moment and then turned to Wayne, "Come over here," he said.

Wayne crawled over in front of Troy, kneeling and looking up at him.

Troy pulled out his cock, aimed it at Wayne's face, and started to piss. Both
guys were laughing as the piss sprayed off of Wayne's face, wet his hair, and
poured over his body. "This is so fucking sick," Troy kept saying through his
laughter. When Troy was finished, I made Wayne bow before him, kissing his feet
and thanking him for the privilege of drinking his piss. Both guys found this
hysterical, and they held onto their guts as they laughed.

They shook my hand before they left, thanking me for allowing them the
experience of using Wayne, still chuckling as they exited the bathroom.

I said nothing to Wayne on the ride home. I knew that he'd experienced much
more than he'd bargained for when he'd agreed to come visit me. I could feel
that he was dealing with all sorts of emotions - humiliation, anger, even
betrayal. I didn't care. It's what he'd told me he wanted all along, and if
he'd decided now that it wasn't really what he was after, then it wasn't my
fault he'd made such a big mistake.

We sat around watching T.V. for the rest of the night - Wayne, at his usual
spot at my feet. Aside from having him fetch me beers, and one last piss down
his throat, I went easy on him for the evening. He was due to fly home the
following afternoon, and I wanted to save up some fun for our final day
together. Once again, Wayne slept on the floor at the foot of my bed.

The next morning, I stepped on Wayne's face on my way to the bathroom to brush
my teeth. He awoke with a start and quickly followed me. "Do you have to piss,
Sir?" he asked, entering the room.

"Shut up," I told him. "I'll tell you what you need to know when you need to
know it. Until then, don't ask stupid questions."

I grabbed my tooth brush and put a blob of minty tooth paste on it. Then I
looked at Wayne's tooth brush and smiled. Putting my tooth brush beside the
sink, I picked his up and held it to his face. "Time to brush your teeth," I
said smiling. Wayne reached for the tooth brush, but I pulled it away from him.
"Let me prepare it for you," I said.

I stuck Wayne's tooth brush between the cheeks of my ass. It had been a couple
of days since I'd taken a shit, and I knew I had a mountain of it in me, but
for the moment, I just needed a little piece. I grunted slightly, and pushed a
hunk of shit out of my hole, onto Wayne's tooth brush. I held it up for both of
us to see - the small turd was about 2 inches long, sitting proudly on top of
the bristles of the tooth brush. The smell quickly engulfed the bathroom.
Wayne's face was a mixture of horror and intrigue. I could feel my own face
glowing as I said, "Brush your teeth, shitface."

Wayne took the tooth brush into his trembling hand. I could tell that his head
had not entirely cleared since waking up, and I sensed his struggle to compute
what was occurring. "Brush your fucking teeth!" I yelled at him, startling him.
He stuck the toothbrush into his mouth, immediately gagging.

"Brush them!" He started moving the tooth brush around in his mouth - I could
see the brown smearing across his teeth. His face was twisted into a sickened
look as he continued to brush and gag. I laughed out loud at the sight. This
sick motherfucker was brushing his teeth with my shit. Most men wouldn't do
such a thing with a gun held to their head. But Wayne was doing it just because
I told him to - and despite his own revulsion at the act.

The smell in the bathroom was revolting as Wayne continued to swish the tooth
brush around in his mouth.

"Need to spit?" I asked him.

He nodded that he did.

"Tough shit," I said smiling. "Swallow."

The look on Wayne's face was one of panic. I could sense him trying to convince
himself to swallow my waste, fighting to overcome his own sense of disgust and
to obey my command. "Swallow!" I yelled. His adam's apple bobbed and I watched
with a large smile as Wayne forced himself to eat my shit. He was choking and
gagging, and then suddenly, he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and
began to puke. He stomach heaved several times, although there wasn't much
coming out of it since he hadn't eaten anything since the day before. "You
disgust me," I said, walking out of the bathroom.

I went to the kitchen and began to fix myself breakfast. I heard Wayne entering
the room behind me, and without turning to him I said, "I hope you cleaned
yourself up, you sick bastard."

"I did," he replied.

Still not looking at him I said, "I didn't wipe my ass after shitting onto your
tooth brush."

Continuing to prepare my food, I smiled, knowing that Wayne must be feeling all
twisted up, having just puked his guts out due to tasting my shit, and being
warned that he was about to be told to lick my ass clean. I wondered how hard
he must be fighting the urge to run out the door. I smiled again at the
thought.

Picking up my plate of food, I turned and looked at Wayne. He looked so
vulnerable, his face still pale from having been sick. Motioning toward the
kitchen floor, I said, "Lie down."

Wayne looked like he was fighting not to cry. He began to bend his knees and
slowly obeyed my command to lie down. The power I felt was unbelievable.

I stood over Wayne as he laid on the floor, placing my plate of food on his
chest, and then slowly lowering my ass towards his face. When I was just a
couple of inches above him, I farted, startling him to the point that his body
jerked. "Careful you don't spill my fucking breakfast!" I told him sternly,
before sitting my ass down on his face. "Now clean me up."

I munched on my food while Wayne poked around my hole with his tongue. "Come
on," I said with my mouth full, "you'll never get it clean at this rate. Lap it
like a fucking dog."

The feel of Wayne's wet tongue across my hole was incredible. Each time he
gagged and his body jerked in response, I warned him that he'd suffer if he
spilled the plate of food I had sitting on his chest. He was almost whimpering
as he licked, feeding into my sense of satisfaction at what I was forcing him
to do.

I finished eating and rose from Wayne's face. I glanced down at him, smiling at
the brown circle of shit around his lips. "Good shit, huh?" I asked him. He
managed a weak, "Yes, Sir."

I put my plate in the sink, and walked back over to him. I straddled his chest,
looking down at his face. "You realize what a disgusting pig you are, don't
you?" I asked.

"Yes, Sir," he replied.

I hawked and spit in his face. "I have to piss," I announced, sliding forward
so that my cock was brushing against his chin. His disgusting brown lips
wrapped around my cock, and I smiled down at him as I relieved myself into his
throat. I could tell that the act of drinking my piss was easy for him relative
to what he'd been through this morning, and it struck me that, given the right
amount of time to train Wayne, I could probably eventually get him to eat my
shit with ease as well. I wondered, though, if that might take away from the
fun of it. After all, part of my enjoyment came from the look of disgust on his
face, the obvious internal struggle he faced, and the idea that he was obeying
me despite his own revulsion.

I climbed off of Wayne's chest. "Go get cleaned up," I told him. Wayne washed
up and then went to pack up his bags. I showered and shaved while he packed. I
felt bad that our visit was so soon coming to an end, but realized that for
Wayne, it had probably seemed like an eternity. We ended up back in the living
room once we were both finished, Wayne at my feet, as usual.

"What should we do with our last couple of hours together?" I asked him.

"I don't know, Sir," he replied.

There was a moment of silence before I said, "You haven't had breakfast yet.
I'd like to feed you my shit."

I could tell that Wayne had thought that the worst of the ordeal had already
passed, and my comment came as a surprise to him. "I, I already cleaned up," he
said, trying in a respectful way to refuse me.

"Yeah," I said, "but you haven't had the opportunity to eat my shit yet. Do you
really want to fly home without going all the way?" I smiled at him, knowing
that I was toying with his mind.

"But I ate your shit," he said. "Off the tooth brush."

"Oh, that was nothing. You haven't eaten a log of my shit yet. A big, long,
thick, juicy piece. I can hardly imagine you passing up the opportunity of
doing that."

I could read Wayne's thoughts as if they were written on his forehead. I could
tell that he was remembering how hard his stomach had heaved when he ate my
shit off the tooth brush. He was thinking about how disgusted he'd felt. He was
deciding that he really didn't want to eat any more of my shit.

"You're going to do it," I told him. "I'm not making it optional."

Wayne's eyes lowered in defeat, and I smiled. "You should probably strip," I
said, "in case this gets messy."

Wayne stripped off his clothes, and I motioned him to lay on the floor on his
back.

I removed my jeans and sat on his face, facing his feet, placing my asshole
directly over his mouth. I sat there, enjoying the moment. Knowing that what
was about to occur would be one of the most incredible moments of my life. I
wondered how many men had ever experienced the rush that comes from sitting on
another man's face, preparing to shit in his mouth. The idea was so far out of
the realm of possibilities for most men, that few had probably ever considered
it. But at that moment I felt that somehow, if given the opportunity, most men
would choose to be exactly where I found myself sitting. Most men, whether gay
or straight, would want to know the incredible power of taking a shit into
another man's mouth. The feeling of being so much greater than the man beneath
them, that he would willingly eat their shit. The feeling of being like a god.
And as I felt Wayne's body trembling beneath me, that is exactly how I felt.

I grunted loudly, putting pressure on my stomach. I pushed out a fart and felt
it enter Wayne's mouth. He gagged and I smiled, knowing there was much worse
for him ahead. Grunting more, I could feel my bowels begin to move. I could
feel a large piece of shit snaking its way through my body towards its
destination. I was enjoying the feeling of the turd moving through me when
Wayne's voice interrupted the moment. "Please don't make me do it," he said
pathetically.

"Shut up!" I yelled. He said nothing more.

I closed my eyes, enjoying each second that was passing. I could feel the lips
of my ass slowly parting. I allowed for just the smallest pressure on my
stomach, wanting the shit to push out slowly. Wayne started to whimper, and I
knew that the log must have touched his lips. I kept applying pressure, feeling
it move slowly from my ass, hearing Wayne gag, knowing that the turd was moving
past his teeth, creeping along his tongue, moving towards his throat. I could
feel that it was a huge piece of shit - both thick and long. I decided to raise
my body slightly, hoping that I could avoid breaking the log in half, wanting
instead to be able to look at Wayne and see it sticking out of his mouth like a
huge banana. Wayne's body was flinching as he continued to gag. I kept raising
my body slowly until I felt the turd completely exit my hole, and then I turned
around so I could look back at Wayne.

It was the most incredible sight. About 5 inches of my turd was sticking out of
Wayne's mouth, and I assumed there was at least 4-5 more inches inside of him.
The living room was filled with the smell, and my cock hardened at the thought
of how foul it must be for Wayne. "Stay there," I told him, running to my room
to get my digital camera. I returned and took a few shots of Wayne, promising
him I'd send him copies over the internet. He continued to gag off and on, and
I tried to capture on film the look on his face while gagging. My cock oozed
pre-cum all over the floor as I took shots of Wayne at different angles.

Then I set the camera aside, sat down on Wayne's chest, and looked into his
eyes. "Now eat it," I said, my cock pulsing wildly.

Wayne's hand reached up and held onto my turd as I watched him slowly bite
through it. I grabbed my cock and started jerking as I watched him chew up my
shit, gagging and struggling as he did so. I began to pant with excitement as I
watched him swallow my waste, pushing the turd further into his mouth so he
could chew and eat the last of it. "Eat it! Eat my shit you disgusting
motherfucker! You are the sickest fucking pig alive!"

As he swallowed down the last of the log, I climaxed, crying out and feeling
the most incredible orgasm shoot through my entire body. My cum spurted into
the air, landing on Wayne's face and spraying into his hair. I continued to cry
out as my cock shot time after time, my body shaking with the incredible
pleasure.

Finally, I relaxed. I looked down at Wayne's shit-covered face and said, "That
was so fucking good." He looked disgusted.

I went to the bathroom to shower. Wayne entered the room, and I could hear him
puking into the toilet. It made me smile.

I finished my shower, and without a word, Wayne climbed in and began to shower
himself. I left the bathroom, still running the towel through my hair, and
noticed Wayne's luggage sitting by the door. Knowing my ass still had plenty of
shit in it, I smiled. I flipped open one of his suitcases, set it on the floor,
and crouched down over it. Grunting madly, I shit a huge pile of waste onto
Wayne's clothes. I then closed up the suitcase, and went to wipe my ass as
Wayne finished up his shower.

We drove to the airport in silence. I couldn't tell if Wayne felt fulfilled,
relieved, revolted or numb. I didn't care. I knew how I felt - there is no word
to describe the feeling of absolute satisfaction.

I dropped Wayne off, not bothering to accompany him inside. He said good-bye to
me and I waved. I drove home, trying to imagine the look that would be on his
face when he arrived home and opened his suitcase.

Written by loopy
email encouraged: loop_fruit@hotmail.com