The following post is part of a thread chronicling the service of a Brazilian faggot named Marcus who was first enslaved by a 14-year-old straight Alpha named Lion, and it continues years later! CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
While I generally agree that minors should not be engaging in sex with adults, the arbitrary age of 18 to be an adult in the United States (14 years old in Brazil) seems like such a silly line to draw, especially given the the serious consequences involved. Seriously: what is the real difference between a 17-year-old and an 18-year-old? Do you realize how many adults have gone to prison over that numerical difference??
I say that because I firmly believe true Alphas cannot be restricted by such idiotic laws. How can the ascension of a natural-born God Alpha be contained or inhibited by the stupid laws of inferiors? It’s impossible.
Master Lion is clearly a God Alpha in the making, but he’s only 14 years old. He’s doing absolutely everything he wants, fucking any females he wants, and he owns a personal faggot – our dear friend Marcus. So far, Master Lion has used Marcus in relatively typical ways. But things recently and dramatically escalated, as Marcus told me here:
Hello, Sam, how are you?
I was planning to talk in this email about how I started out with my young Master—since you mentioned that in your last post—but events from this week made me change my plans. For the first time, I need advice from my brother experienced fag.
I don’t know if you’re aware, but the winter break in Brazil happens mid-year, meaning schools and universities go weeks—sometimes up to a month—without classes. Usually, during this time, the Master travels to his home state (he was born in Paraná), so I have to book first-class tickets, rent a car in his hometown, buy concert tickets, pack his bags and belongings, and so on. In short, I ensure that, even while away, he doesn’t have to worry about tedious details. But this year, in the middle of a blowjob he was getting from his fiancée, the Master gathered her and me on the living room floor because he had matters to discuss. He announced that he wouldn’t be traveling this year because he was hosting a younger cousin who was coming to visit Rio de Janeiro. The cousin would be staying here for a week and had to be treated exceptionally well, as he was the cousin the Master liked best. He expected total obedience from both his fiancée and me; if embarrassed him, the punishment would be severe. His fiancée would be relocated to a spot in the Master’s bedroom, as the cousin would be taking her bed in the small room we shared. All her belongings and mine—whether in the room or the wardrobe—had to be packed into boxes and stored under the beds or out on the balcony so the cousin could unpack his things without issue. I could continue sharing the room with him, but I had to remain silent and discreet; after all, while he was here, the room was his territory. The Master ordered me to take time off work as well, so I could be at the cousin’s beck and call 24 hours a day; the Master couldn’t put his own life on hold to look after him, so that task fell to me. I would have to fetch whatever he wanted and take him wherever he wished, ensuring he faced no issues during the trip and enjoyed the best vacation of his life.
To ensure the cousin felt comfortable around the house—Paraná is a colder state, and he wasn’t used to Rio’s heat—he might prefer to lounge around freely (in swim trunks or even naked). Consequently, all household chores became my responsibility, as the Master is *very* possessive of his fiancée (insisting that the only penis she should ever admire is his own). She was to remain confined to the Master’s bedroom the entire time, only allowed out when the men were away.
Until Sunday, I had assumed the cousin was a child or, at most, a teenager, since the Master had mentioned he was a minor. However, on Sunday, the Master returned from a party at 3 a.m. and announced that the fiancée and I had to be up by 7 a.m. to prepare a feast of the cousin’s favorite foods and sweets. He had also summoned four of his regular girls, who were due to arrive at that same time to get ready. He ordered that he be woken up at 9 a.m. with breakfast already prepared, as the plane was due to land at 10 o’clock and the Master wanted to go to the airport.
When I woke him up, the Master came into the living room, sat in his recliner, and ordered me to bend over. He placed the breakfast tray we had prepared on my back, and while he ate, he told the four kneeling girls they had to follow his rules and look their absolute hottest; any complaint from the cousin at the end of the day would be enough to get them banned. …once ready, were supposed to help the bride in the kitchen until they returned.
The master was still sleepy when we left, so he lay down across the back seat with his legs resting on the front passenger seat—which had been reclined—while I drove. I was supposed to go into the airport, wait (in case of a delay), and only return to the car to call him once the plane had landed. I waited for nearly an hour.
When the cousin appeared, the master called him “kid” simply because he was younger—he had just turned eighteen—but he was clearly a man and had been fulfilling his mandatory military service for a few weeks. he was wearing green military clothing but sported a cowboy-style belt buckle and hat. Amidst everyone, the master hugged him and said pointed at me “This is my servant.” Then he looked at me and said, “Take the bags to the car and wait there with the A/C running fag. My cousin and I are going to have some juice and catch up.” I went back to the car and waited for an hour until my phone pinged with a message from the master.I ran to the airport restaurant, where he told me his cousin was feeling hot and sent me to buy a pair of flip-flops for him.
I started walking away but then realized I didn’t know the size (I know the master measurements by heart, so I usually handle that automatically). I went back and said, “I’m sorry, master, but I don’t know the size,” to which the cousin replied 45 —casually adding—”Hurry up, faggot.” I ran off while the my master laughed. I bought the best pair in the shop and returned to hand them over, but the master ordered me to put them on him.
<span;>So, for the first time in my life, I had to serve someone in public, and I confess I felt …awkward about it.
But, under the Master’s stern gaze, I knelt down, removed cousin’s combat boots and wet socks, and put his slippers on him while they chatted casually. The smell was sour and quite unpleasant—so bad that I gagged on the stench, and even the Master, sitting at the head of the table, coughed. The cousin apologized, explaining that he hadn’t bathed properly for four days because they had been on a mission in the forest, and he had come straight from the barracks to the airport. The Master told him there was no need to apologize, as this was my job and I actually liked the smell of a man.
I went back to the car to wait another two hours or so until they decided to head home.
You often talk here about alpha competition, and I confess I had never witnessed it before—since the Master’s friends I know are clearly beneath him in status—but with his cousin, it seemed he felt the need to assert dominance. When they returned to the car, the Master opened the trunk and told me that, for his cousin’s comfort, I would be riding back home in there (something that had never happened before and which I also found unpleasant). To make room alongside the Master’s gear and my cousin’s suitcases, he ordered me into the airplane “brace position” (head between my knees, hands behind my head), placed those foul, sour-smelling combat boots right beneath my head, locked the trunk, and they drove off. The smell inside the trunk was horrible, as the shoes had been baking in the Rio sun; As the car moved, I felt the suitcases bumping gently against me and felt tears streaming from my eyes, which were burning intensely. I thought about screaming or at least kicking off the shoes, but I remembered the Master saying he demanded total obedience—and that he would even banish his girls—so I stifled my anger and stayed quiet; after all, it’s only about a forty-minute drive from the airport to the Master’s house. But time dragged on, and only after a long while did the car stop—yet the door didn’t open. I thought he had gone inside and forgotten me in the car, and I began to panic as the air grew stifling. Just as I started gasping for breath and was about to scream, the door opened. Once I caught my breath, I saw we were at the beach.
Both men were shirtless—the cousin was even obscenely displaying his a huge amount of pubic hair in public—and they were eating *açaí* (a type of Brazilian frozen treat).
The Master said arrogantly, “My cousin wanted to see the beach, so we made a detour. You don’t mind, do you?” They stepped a short distance away from the car because of the smell, and when they finished eating, the Master whispered something to his cousin, who walked over and asked if I wanted a treat too. I looked at the Master and realized I had to say yes, so I replied, “Yes, sir.”
The cousin pulled his two wet socks out of his combat boots and said, “Open up.” I gave him a pleading look, but saw the Master approaching, saying, “He told you to open up.” Then the cousin shoved the socks into my mouth and said, “There—a snack for the faggot.” The Master ordered me to chew and asked if it was good. I tried to answer between gags, but only grunts came out; they shut the door again, laughing. After a long time—hours, perhaps—the car started up again.
When we got home it was already getting dark, I noticed they were wet and smelling of beer. And I realized that while I was suffering in the trunk and the women were spending the afternoon cooking a feast, the two of them had simply spent the afternoon enjoying the beach—just as life intended: alpha males having a good time while being waited on by everyone.
<span;>The Master ordered me to step outside, bring the suitcases in, and let the girls know that they had arrived. The fiancée was to go to her room and stay there, while the other girls were to take their positions (I don’t know exactly what that meant, but it must have been part of the rules he’d laid out when he summoned them). When I walked in with the first bag, I saw the four of them dressed in racy outfits—an angel, a policewoman, a nurse, and a bunny girl—but all of them had their breasts exposed. As I came in with the second bag, the two men were standing in the living room right by the door, so I had to wait; I watched the Master say, “Welcome to the welcome party for the best vacation of your life.” Then, one by one, the girls approached, gave the cousin a quick peck on the lips, knelt down to plant a small kiss on his massive bulge, and said, “Welcome, Mr. Yuri [pseudonym]; I am entirely at your disposal.” As you can imagine, a lot has happened since yesterday. And after a wild party and a huge orgy that lasted until this morning, the Master ordered me to wake him up tonight so he could go to the gym. I’ll tell you about it in the next message.
PS: As I mentioned, some things happened that I didn’t like—being trapped in the car trunk like an object and having to serve in public (even if it was just something basic like taking off a man’s shoes)—but I’m afraid of being used in other ways in public, or that things might escalate into something worse during this “alpha competition.”
So, I’d like to hear from my more experienced Fag brother (I don’t know i …your age, but you’ve been serving for over seven years, so you’re much more experienced). Should I somehow complain to my owner about what I didn’t like? Should I wait until the cousin leaves to do so—so as not to embarrass him, since I don’t know when they’ll be apart again? Or should I swallow my pride and personal preferences, or please my master as he desires—trusting that I’ll eventually get used to it, just like with other things (like drinking the master’s piss—I hated it at first, but now I simply love it)?
I’m pretty stunned by the way Master Lion controls males older than he is. It sounds effortless. He’s commanding groups of whores, his faggot, and even his older Alpha cousin!
But the concern I had while reading this account is the danger they Marcos in. They seemed to not care at all, or they didn’t have the comprehension and foresight to realize that danger (and shows their age, honestly). I guess they didn’t leave Marcos in that trunk long enough to really get hurt, but what happens that one time they do?
But what should Marcos do? I definitely don’t think he should complain while his cousin is around. I’m not even sure Marcos should ask for an audience with Master Lion about it after he leaves. Personally, I think it would be good for Marcos to just try to endure it and look at the long game with his Master. As he grows, Master Lion is going to see Marcos’s loyalty and obedience much differently.
And then, Marcos will win.
