The concept of Hierarchy is often misunderstood, and the mechanics of Hierarchy are even less understood. Simply put, Hierarchy is the First Law of human society. It defines how society is structured, almost entirely based on Male power dynamics.
From the first moment one Man dominated another Man, Hierarchy has been the driving force behind all Male interactions and human achievements. Men rule the world; every bridge, skyscraper, scientific discovery, mechanical advancement, medical breakthrough, and work of art has been imagined, designed, and built by Men. Every war won and every life created – all by the power of Men.
Hierarchy celebrates the power and glory of Men, while also honoring another basic truth: Men are NOT created equal.
To illustrate my current understanding of Hierarchical levels, I created the above diagram. Here’s an explanation:
The following post is part of a thread following Kamal, a faggot who has a desire to serve his Alpha professor uncle Farid. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
The most difficult help requests I receive from fags involve submitting to family members. Every time I’m asked for help with these, I’m filled with dread. I don’t want to give advice that leads a fag to be ostracized from a family home or into the hands of abusers.
It was even scarier when Kamal approached me about helping him submit to his straight Alpha uncle, because Kamal is Arabic and that comes with extra baggage. However, I agreed to try and help because Kamal was so honest, open-hearted, and thoughtful. I felt he would have the best chance for success.
And sure enough, it was a success! As I reported last time, Kamal’s uncle, Master Farid, gladly accepted Kamal as his faggot!
I’ve been waiting on pins and needles ever since for the follow-up to this story (and frankly, so have my readers), but Kamal had some trouble getting it together to send … until now.
Just read his magnificent account, which blew away all of my expectations!
I am writing to you from a place I did not know existed until two days ago. I have tried to find other words to describe what has happened, but only yours suffice. The way your website describes certain things are just how i experinced them and there is an honesty in your writing, the refusal to hide the fact that there is much to lose, maybe a lot of pain along the way, but much to gain and to be oneself honestly for the first time is truly an experience without compare. I thank you for your cautious optimism and honesty.
The morning after Farid spoke the words that would restructure everything, I woke up and made my way down to breakfast in a daze. My aunt was there, speaking to him about some wedding in her family—her sister’s daughter, I think, or perhaps her cousin; the details dissolved in the heat of seeing Farid sitting there in a threadbare vest. She was asking him to attend the wedding and he was explaining, with that patient academic tone he uses, that his commitments at the university made it impossible. He offered instead to drive her to her sister’s place, which is a few hours away, and to spend a day or two there with her, which would allow him to explain his inability to attend the actual event to her family in person, and to give her more time with them so she could help with the preparations. As he told her this, he glanced at me quickly, and when I sat at the table he looked me in the eye without stopping his conversation with his wife, but I understood immediately from his gaze that he was lying. He had no academic obligations. The obligation that made his attendance impossible was me. He was buying us a fortnight alone together.
It was decided he and his wife would leave in a day or two, and I would not see him until he returned. The knowledge sat in my stomach like a stone, tense and heavy and radiant.
For the next few days, this tension shifted into something physical. Whenever we were alone and he involved himself with me—his hands on my skin, his mouth taking mine in the quiet hours when the house slept—he was overpowering and reticent simultaneously. Whenever I reached for more, he deftly side-stepped the request. When I asked to be fucked, he would simply touch me elsewhere or pull away with a calm smile that contained no refusal, only delay. He told me we must wait until his return. He spoke of the first time he would penetrate me as if it were something sacred, something he wanted us to be fully present for, without other cares. He said our first time would be something pivotal. “A fulcrum fuck?” I joked and he laughed, genuinely amused. I think that explains why I can’t remember the rest of that conversation. I tend to get lost in a euphoric haze when he’s happy with me.
Two days later, they left. The house emptied of everything but possibility, and I used that emptiness to prepare.
I had a professional full body wax so that I would be smooth for him, because I know he likes that. I also made sure I did some of the chores my aunt had been planning to do for him but had not been able to complete. I did his laundry and ironing perfectly, polished all his shoes that needed polishing, mended a few items of clothing that had lost a button or needed some trivial repair. My aunt and uncle had taken her car so that she would have it with her; my uncle was taking the train home. So I washed and detailed his car as best I could, working my hands into the leather until it gleamed with the same attention I wanted to give to him. Basically, I made sure that anything that had to do with him was perfect.
When my uncle returned, I was in class, so I could not welcome him home. But I made sure to cook his favorite meal for him, the one my aunt makes when she wants to thank him for something. When I returned to the house, he was waiting for me on the terrace. He embraced me warmly and kissed me. It was electric. It felt different than the kisses from when my aunt was there. This was deeper, more overwhelming, like he was not only there with me in the kiss but directing it, supporting it with his hands on my back, guiding my mouth open with a pressure he had not used on me before.
The air was warm and the jasmine smelled as it only can on the last night before it begins to wither—that particular intensity of something at the height of its bloom, aware of its own ending. A languid breeze paid its last respects and moved as if tethered to us, waiting for something to begin. He looked at me for a long time without speaking. His eyes moved over my face with a scrutiny that felt like reading.
Then he said: “I am going to fuck you now, Kamal. It will hurt, maybe even terribly. But I need you to feel the pain. I need it to destroy everything that’s only yours in you, the parts of you that can live without being mine. Or, I can stop and we can both walk away as we are.” I must have looked visibly distressed because he laughed and said, “But don’t worry, I won’t.”
His hands came up to hold my face and he kissed me again. It was a dominating, possessive kiss. When it ended he moved just an inch away and told me to leave him, to prepare and be ready when he called me.
During the hours between his words and the event, I prepared and whilst waiting in my room I read your text, Being Cunted. I marked the pages where you spoke of the proper mental state required for this transformation. For the first time, I understood from the inside what it meant to be prepared. I spent that afternoon in a state of profound stillness, accepting that whatever I believed myself to be until that moment was merely a placeholder for the truth you described. I sat in my room with the book open on my lap and felt my own consciousness thinning, becoming permeable, ready to be rewritten.
When the time came, he led me into his bedroom. Farid did not touch me at first. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me. This lasted for what felt like ages, though it may have been only minutes—time had already begun to behave differently, stretching and contracting according to his attention. He stripped me slowly, his eyes moving over my body with clinical ownership, cataloging every inch he was about to claim. I stood before him naked and trembling, feeling every inch of my skin exposed to his judgment, my hands hanging useless at my sides because I understood that I was no longer permitted to cover myself.
“You are so beautiful.” he said. Then he came for me.
He arranged me on the bed, pushing me down onto my stomach without a word. He used his hand to open me, unravelling me with an aggressive patience that left no room for hesitation. His fingers worked with a deliberation that felt like surgery, like he was clearing a path through me. I felt the weight of him pressing me into the bed, the heat of his clothed body against my bare back. Then he took me.
“If it hurts, feel it.”
He fucked me with a controlled violence that I had never imagined possible. It was not chaotic; it was precise and overwhelming, each thrust delivered with a certainty that suggested he had always known exactly where I ended and he began. He used my body as if it were a tool designed specifically for his pleasure, driving himself deep into me again and again with a rhythm that felt inevitable. I felt my breath leave me, my lungs seizing as he found the depth he was searching for.
I felt something inside me let go. Not break—release. He fucked me past the point where I could track time or distance. I began to weep, and shake, my body convulsing with sobs that seemed to come from somewhere beneath my ribs. I was aware of being gone from myself, floating somewhere above the bed while my body remained pinned beneath him, still receiving, still being used. The room blurred into shadow and light. In that state of near-unconsciousness, using your word, I understood that I was being cunted. The knowledge arrived not as thought, but as sensation, a cellular recognition of what was being carved into me.
He finished inside me. He did not pull away immediately; he held me down with his full weight until I stopped gasping, shivering, trembling. But I continued crying. And he seemed okay with that.
He whispered quietly in my ear, telling me how proud he was of me, how I had proved him right to want me, how strong I was for never having asked him to stop, even when he hoped I would. He kissed me and I remember nothing more.
When I woke the next morning, I discovered The Void.
It is not a metaphor. It is a literal, physical location in my body—a singular point of ache situated low in my belly, just behind the pubic bone. It felt as if a piece of me had been scooped out and replaced with an ongoing hunger that could only be satisfied by him. This Void did not vanish when he left the room or when I returned to my normal life.
Days later, it is still there. I feel it while I am sitting in lectures at college, listening to professors speak about literature and history, my pen moving across the page while my body orients itself toward his absence. I feel it during meals with my friends, as I smile and talk about mundane things, the conversation flowing around me while I remain anchored to this ache. It is an ongoing bodily reminder of the only man who can make me feel whole, the only one who has ever owned me.
My outward life has become a performance. I speak to friends, submit my work to smiling professors, I attend dinners, I laugh at jokes that float aimlessly through the air, but it is all an act, a performance by someone who no longer exists. The Kamal they think they know is gone; he was happily and willingly remade in the shape of Farid’s desire.
I want to say to you also that I could not have understood what was happening to me without your writing. Your words provided the only interpretive frame that made my mental state possible. Without them, I might have tried to categorize this event through the lens of romance or simple lust, and it would have remained elusive and its moment unknown. You gave me the vocabulary to accept the transformation as a revelation of what always was, waiting beneath the surface of who I pretended to be.
Now, when the ache becomes unbearable during the day, I return mentally to a specific sensory anchor: the smell of jasmine in furious bloom upon a warm beating breeze just before he spoke to me. That is where the shift began. That is where I left myself behind.
It is impossible for me to ever tell my family what has happened or who I have become. They see a dutiful son and student; they do not see the faggot who carries Farid’s seed inside him as a permanent mark of ownership. They do not see The Void. They do not see me.
But you do. And because of you, Farid does.
Thank you.
Kamal.
I almost had tears in my eyes reading this account the first time. The events described are so glorious, and Kamal’s expressive depictions of both the physical and emotional elements of his cunting (as well as The Void) are spectacular. I’m practically speechless.
What Master Farid did to Kamal is not easy, especially upon deflowering, but Master Farid did manage to cunt Kamal on the first fuck. It makes me wonder if Master Farid has owned/used fags in the past. If he hasn’t, then Master Farid has an innate understanding of how a faggot is to be used and claimed! As I’ve said before, Alphas have these instincts … but they don’t always act on them.
I chuckled when Kamal described The Void perfectly. I wasn’t expecting that additional perspective, but Kamal’s entire journey into true faghood through cunting and voiding is one of the most complete documents I’ve ever read. It’s a masterpiece!
Fags, read it again and again. This can be the result if you act in honesty, faith, and courage! Straight Alphas are out there willing to own you and give you experiences like this. You’ll never know the satisfying completion of purpose that Kamal feels now unless you try!
To my dear Kamal, thank you for sharing this with me and for trusting me! I think you’re beautiful inside and out, and I can’t wait to hear more of your discoveries as your Master Farid trains you and takes you deeper into your submission!
I’m a fag from Italy and Im noticing some strange behaviour in my alpha bf.
We’ve been dating for 5 months and everything is perfect he is so dominant yet caring, and I always try to serve him in the best way possible… But recently I’ve started noticing how strange he acts around straight guys, he looks diminished around them physically speaking even tho they are objectively even smaller than him sometimes. It feels like he can’t be the top dog around straight men and I gotta be honest… Its really starting to affect my opinion of him, makes me seem him as less of man. I’ve talked about this already with a very close friend of mine, he’s a fag too and he’s the one who made me realize a year ago that I wasnt just “submissive” so I’ve always gone to him for Alpha/fags matter but his response surprised me quite bit. He said that it was normal that even if he’s an alpha he’s a gay one and superior men will always have power over him no matter how alpha he is… Didn’t really sit right with me so after a couple of days later I asked him more questions, like “if he’s an Alpha how can other men be superior to him?” and he said “real men” kinda laughing like it was some obvious shit to which I said that my bf is a real man and he bursted out laughing saying that he was not… I was super confused cause he is generally super respectful of my bf, as a man and as an Alpha and seeing… that I was super confused he continued saying “straight men, real men are straight men. I thought it was obvious to you” and explained that being a gay Alpha makes not difference around real men, that straight guys are our superiors and my bf wasn’t acting weird around them it’s simply how inferiors act around straight men. Even urged me to be more respectful to straight men since I wasn’t aware of this thing (sounded disappointed af lol) and we continued talking about this via message saying that most gays don’t accept this truth that he was disappointed in me, continued saying that the most Alpha gay is inferior to the least alpha straight man, that Straight alphas are on top, then average straight men then gay “alphas”, yeah with quotation marks cause “gay alphas are alphas only to gays, so not real alphas” and even suggested me to write Straight with capital S as a sign of respect from now on which I find exaggerated but I’m doing it when messaging with him. In a way I can understand what he said, my bf actually does look “weaker” than his normal self when he’s around straight men, and I have to admit that I’ve considered straight men real men for years but superiors?! Talking about gays being interior to Straight men like it’s normal?… In really value his guidance, he’s kind of a “senpai” to me(lol), and I have to admit his points are really valid and I’m 80% sure he’s right but I still have doubts and wanted to ask you.
Is it normal that my bf acts this way around straight men? Is my friend actually right or right to some extent?
Thank you for writing! This is actually an important topic!
I understand your feelings, and, as a faggot who has served mostly straight Alphas, I can understand the perspective from a fetish standpoint. All gays have a fetish for straights because of early development attachments we had to straights growing up. We see straights as “ideal” and ourselves as “defective” because SOCIETY views it this way. I refer to this as “gay inferiority syndrome”.
However, it’s really that attitude that is the defect, and not we ourselves.
Your cock-sure fag friend is absolutely fucking wrong. Your boyfriend isn’t diminished or “lesser” because he’s gay. What a stupid thing to say about any Alpha! Master Lorenzo is a gay Alpha, and I’d venture to say he would fuck anyone into oblivion and better than any straight Alpha. Same with Master Dean, another gay Alpha who holds his own with some of the straightest and most powerful Alphas on the planet. The gay Alphas I’ve featured on this site over the years have been incredible Men who could lead armies. They are not diminished in any way … unless they are naturally lower within Alpha hierarchy OR they diminish themselves with thinking like yours.
And here’s what I mean by that: you and your friend are forgetting that Alphas have an internal hierarchy within their fraternity. Your boyfriend might simply be a lower-tiered Alpha among other, more naturally powerful Alphas. Should you respect him less because nature made him to be what he is? So because he’s not an Apex or God-level Alpha, you should suddenly find him less appealing or question his virility?? Do you see how stupid that starts to sound?
But what concerns me most from your question pertains to your Alpha’s own view of himself. Does HE carry that “gay inferiority syndrome” within himself?? Maybe somewhere inside himself he feels lesser than straight Men and Alphas. I sincerely hope not, because he shouldn’t EVER have to suffer from those awful and negative stereotypes! However, that diminishment you describe could very well be an outwardly manifestation of his own feelings of unworthiness! How sad to hear if that is true. The world desperately needs Alpha power, and when it is revealed, it should be adored and encouraged!
Which leads me back to you and your stupid-ass faggot friend. You both should be ashamed of yourselves for disparaging this Alpha. Rather than showing him respect, you went off to cattily bitch about his supposed shortcomings behind his back with your friend. I cannot tell you how disgustingly disloyal that is.
Rather than disparaging his “flaws” as an Alpha, examine your own flaws as his supposed faggot.
hi! i want to know your thoughts on incest. is it acceptable if a father claims his son as a faggot? if so what age is acceptable to start.
Thank you for your question!
Let me preface this response by saying that, in general, it’s illegal in most countries and definitely considered to be morally wrong by most people. But I think you probably know this already.
But Hierarchy is Natural Law, so it doesn’t always conform to every man-made law of modern society.
Hierarchically-speaking, “incest” of the kind you mention is not necessarily wrong. Of course, the son should have some agency over himself and be old enough to understand and consent.
But once those conditions are met, the act of a father taking his faggot son as his own servant is an act of deep love and concern. No father wants his faggot son out in the world being bullied and harmed by careless Alphas. Better to take full ownership of him, train him, and prepare him to fulfill his purpose himself.
And I’m not speaking from an irresponsible or uninformed perspective. I’ve known multiple faggots who are owned (or have been owned) by their fathers, and in each case both the fathers and the sons were deeply fulfilled by embracing their roles with each other.
It may not suit me or most of my readers, but I’ve seen enough joy and fulfillment from these ones to know that this “taboo” element of hierarchy is valid. I’ll never disparage them or their choices.
The following post is part of a thread chronicling a shy faggot named Michael who successfully offered service to a straight Alpha who lives in his apartment complex! CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
My track record of successfully guiding faggots to submit and serve straight Alphas isn’t luck. My instincts have been honed from many years of doing it myself, so much so that I can correctly advise based on information from an EMAIL. In fact, part of the reason why this site has succeeded is because of my wildly accurate advice column and my hands-on approach.
Of course, some situations are easier than others. Take, for example, my recent advising of a faggot named Michael whom I met on the Hierarchy Discord. One day Michael reached out to me this way:
Hey Sam, I have a possible opportunity and I thought it might be easier to chat with you here than over email. There’s a guy in my building that I think is an alpha and I’ve been subtly serving him. My apartment looks down into a courtyard and I see him smoking in it a few times a day. Whenever I see him coming I hold the door open, I call him sir, I offered him my water when I saw him on the communal treadmill, I carried packages to his door for him, etc. and he always seems to take the service naturally and really enjoy it.
I went out to take out some big trash and saw him again and we started chatting and he mentioned he’s pissed at his girlfriend because she won’t put out lately. I told him anyone should be grateful to be with him and he gave me a big smirk. I’m thinking of offering sexual service to him. Do you think it’s worth it? I think so. I’m just not sure the best way to offer it. He’s straight.
Michael did an excellent job laying the foundation I’m always preaching about, making himself useful to this straight Alpha in a variety of ways. That kind of selfless submission triggers every Alpha’s need to be worshiped.
But the real “tell” comes with how an Alpha reacts to that trigger being pulled. In my experience, the really interested Alphas will start openly telling a faggot that their girlfriends/wives aren’t satisfying them sexually. Straight Alphas do this because they know their sexual power and desirability are irresistible to subs. By saying this, they can then gauge whether or not an inferior male is gay and/or a faggot by its body language and eye contact. This is a long explanation for a primal process that takes literal seconds.
Needless to say, this straight Alpha got the answer he anticipated from Michael.
So I advised Michael to lose the “but he’s straight” mentality, because I was already seeing between the lines of this encounter. I knew with the right approach this Alpha would make a move.
And sure enough, yesterday it happened:
I caught him outside this evening and chatted him up. He mentioned his girlfriend is out of town for a week visiting her sister and her new niece. He said he was pent up and I told him, “there’s lots of people out there that would love to help you with that”.
He gave me that alpha smirk and asked what I meant and I said I would be proud to volunteer if it would help relieve him. He just said “follow me” and So he led me up to his place.
When I got in he shut and locked the door behind me and I got a little nervous but he just pulled down his pants and sat in an armchair and commanded me “get to it, let’s see what you can do” he had a massive hairy cock to match his trim beard and at first I just sort of ran my tongue across it and savored it. I must have started off right because he moaned and pulled my head down on it. I sucked him and got into a deep sub space as he called me a faggot and a slut. He said he knew what I was and what I wanted and it was about time I gave it.
He said I had a cute face so he didn’t mind fucking it and if I was good he might take my ass. After a while he really throat fucked me and came buckets down my throat.
He said I was a good fag and after I cleaned off his cock he lead me out. He didn’t take my phone number, apparently his girlfriend is paranoid and jealous. But I gave him my apartment number and told him to just knock it he needs me.
It felt so good. It felt so right. I’m so glad I acted on my instincts. When I got home I just savored his taste and his scent and fucked myself with a dildo imagining it was him. I hope he takes me up on that offer.
Incredible!!!
Like Michael, I’m also glad he acted on instincts! Hierarchy is all about instinctual impulses, animal impulses. The real trick (and for faggots, difficulty) is seeing the real need or desire behind those impulses. Alphas are born with the ability to see through façades; it’s part of their hunting instinct. Faggots need to develop it.
I’m so happy that Michael managed to serve this straight Alpha. He was patient and submissive and always looking for an opening, and he was rewarded with this straight Alpha’s cum in his tummy!
I found myself unexpectedly overjoyed today after I heard the great news about Clavicular, the looksmaxxing “influencer”/social media barnacle. He was charged with the drugging and raping of a minor female.
Some have complained about the rape charge being without merit given that Clav was 19 and the girl was 16. Yeah, I get it – those laws are DUMB and arbitrary.
But in Clavicular’s case I want the book thrown at him. I’ve already devoted too much bandwidth to that dickless and autistic Pinocchio android and his cult of starfuckers. They’re all such non-entities that they barely have a shadow.
Hopefully Clavicular will find a personality and some value in medium-security prison with the other chomos. But also hope he gets some additional looksmaxxing courtesy of a fellow inmate’s fists.
Yo Sam, I’m Brian, a 19 year old Alpha. Came across this site only recently and then I saw your post about Master Chad and his situation resembles mine (partially). Let me start from the beginning. So me and my brother (we’re both alphas, his name is Jason) are about 11 years old apart, so he’s currently 29. He was the one who introduced me to the hierarchy when I was 15. He brought home one of the guys he works with (he lives a separate city than our parents and I moved with him to continue my studies as the schools here are better). And to my surprise, he made the guy worship his feet and cock right there in the living room and told the guy to do the same to me. I’ll tell you, during the whole time he did not use the guy’s name and instead called him ”fag” and told me to do the same because ”fags” only purpose is to worship alphas like us. It felt amazing. That was the start of my interest in hierarchy and since then, me and my brother have had 2 live-in faggots (we had another one, but he moved away due to family problems) whom we use and enjoy whenever we want. That brings me to my problem, for some time now I keep having these thoughts of fucking my brother and turning him into one of the fags as well. He\’s older than me, but we’re pretty much similar in height. I’m more on the wiry side whereas he’s more stocky and he has an amazing ass (like imagine two perfectly shaped butt cheeks). I could prolly control these urges if not for the fact that he’s naked almost the whole time he’s home. I use the fags we have almost all the time when I’m home, but when fucking them I imagine my brother. Is that weird? Like I know you’ve said before that you don’t agree with incest due to how destructive they can be but how do you get over it? You have had this site up for a long time now so you must’ve come across similar situation?
Master, thank you for writing to me!
First of all, congratulations on your situation! You’re lucky to have had an Alpha brother who was so generous and considerate of you, someone who was wise enough to fully understand Hierarchy at a young age! The fact that you own live-in faggots together is truly a testament to your power and the truth of Hierarchy!
Yes, I definitely have come across similar situations as yours, Master. Whenever the power dynamics within families are combined with the natural power dynamics in Hierarchy, the results are often combustible. This is especially so when it involves Alphas, who are Kings in Hierarchy and are keenly aware of position.
I suppose you can try to get your brother to submit to you, Master, but it’s likely to be one hell of a fight. And if you lose … Well, you might not like how that turns out. You really need to decide how important it is that you dominate him, as opposed to ruling alongside him.
As a faggot, submitting is natural for me. But for Alphas, it’s nearly unthinkable. In the case of your older brother, he’s the one who guided you to your own Alphahood. Do you really want to disrespect him that way? Do you really need to?
I hope you think hard about those questions, Master. You sound like a good Alpha, and I’m sure you’ll come to the right conclusions!
