Reminding a fag of its place
For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young God Alpha named “Jake”, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank Master Jake for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!
I am not a fan of violence. I believe that a good mind-fucking is far more effective in keeping a fag in its place than a beating. But once in a while a beating is helpful in reminding a fag that it is stepping out of line.
Take my current fag, Josiah Sinclair III (not his real name; see below). I’ve been living in Josiah’s apartment (well, nominally, it’s Josiah’s apartment) for several months now. I sleep in the Master bedroom, Josiah sleeps on the floor in the smaller guest bedroom, since the bitch is no longer allowed to use the furniture. Josiah has bought me this huge flat screen TV, and nice lounge furniture so that I can watch the games and his grand piano and fancy antique furniture has been sent somewhere (def not in the apartment any more). Josiah understands that if he wants me to stay, he’s got to make the place comfortable for me. And Josiah really, really wants me to stay.
Josiah has been very accommodating to my needs and has been pretty good in anticipating my needs and desires. The bitch has gone a long way in making the sacrifices I expect so that I will continue to allow him to serve. One area where Josiah has def fallen off the track, however, is girls. I bring women home sometimes 4-5 nights a week and Josiah resents the hell out of it. The all night frolicking and fucking, the ladies moaning in orgastic delight, the sight of a woman struggling to deep throat me (a skill Josiah has finally mastered), drives Josiah off the deep end. He’s jealous, nervous, envious, neurotic – I don’t know.
The other day the fag had the nerve to complain to me about bringing women back to the apartment. I was stunned by his complaint. I don’t know what the fuck Josiah was expecting. Why should I fuck a chick in her cramped apartment (with her roommate hanging around or sent out to walk the dog or to hang out at Starbucks until we are done), when I can bring her back to my beautiful, comfortable place and take all the time I want.
So, I fucking beat the shit out of Josiah. I pounded his ass for a good ten minutes, all the time telling him that I’ll bring home who the fuck I want, when the fuck I want, and do what the fuck I want in the apartment. And if he didn’t like it, it was just the fuck too bad. The bitch immediately started back-peddling and apologizing, but I continued the beating until I was sure he understood.
So Josiah went off to work yesterday dressed in his suit and tie, with an awesome black eye and bruises all over his body, including bruises visible on his neck and face. Josiah is a banker or a lawyer or something like that. When he came back from work last night, it was with a nice Rolex watch for me.
I’m pretty sure things with Josiah are squared away for now.
