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For the true fag, the need for the Master is an undeniable truth, a necessity that is rarely understood until one sees it for himself. The need to serve, to be owned, is an innate one, a closeted skeleton kept so far below the surface that even those closest to him cannot see it; the thought of its’ exposure containing equal parts unbridled excitement and nerve-wrecking terror. What if it was found out?

What if everyone knew?

Something you must certainly avoid, yet the mere thought of it happening keeps you reading, keeps you yearning for more, to search for it.

You need it.

The need for a true Master has always been with you, even in the absence of an obvious candidate. That empty feeling in you that you were not complete, not quite whole, no matter your success to the outside world. You were respected, looked up to, admired. But empty. Desperate. Then you saw it there. In your infinite search to fill that gap, you found you were not alone. There were others, others searching for the life they truly needed. Others that needed to serve, and finally, Masters that needed to own. You kept searching, your heart racing, through web page after web page.

Is this really happening?

Could this emptiness really be filled?

So afraid to share your need with anyone, you have hid it, deep within you. A secret that was only exposed in your mind, as you stroked to pictures in a magazine in a bathroom stall, or that moment, during passionate sex, and the only way you could cum was to think of your secret need to serve, the image of truly serving another man finally making you explode. You saw yourself, during sex, not as a man, but as a woman, wanting to be taken, used as property, and drained.

And now it was possible.

You are a slave, a pig for ownership, a complete faggot. And I, your Master, will be the new place your secret resides. A fag needs an Owner, a place to call home, a place where his secrets reside. Of course, the threat always exists that I will expose you, discard you, and drain you until all that you are or have ever been is gone. But that fear brings you back, my faggot. It keeps you mine, safely where you belong.

You will feel the pain of serving; the hurt only a true Master can bring you. All that you are will be willingly handed over, desperate for me to take you, to own you. You are a faggot.

It was not a choice.

It is simple who you are. There is no need to run fag.

You are home.

It’s time.

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