The right way to deal with inferior faggots. Part four of five.

After irreversibly installing the collar and steel handcuffs, I took the gagged animal to my backyard.

I took the box he had given me with everything significant, meaningful, and precious to him, with his documents, medical exams, glasses, family photos, and personal effects. I put everything in the litter box, poured alcohol, and burned all the history and life he once had.

I never cared to know his name; I just called him insults, like shit, fag, worm, or pig. I never wanted to know anything about him; he didn't interest me.

His reaction to the scene was all I craved; he cried, trembled, and sobbed seeing his identity and history burning.

After making sure that there was nothing left, that everything was burned entirely, I pissed on the ashes and over him, saying:

You shit, understand that the creep fag you once were, doesn't exist anymore. Now you're just a toy of mine, something I can use as I see fit.

We start treating the animal fag in the worst way animals can be treated. The beatings, torture, and rapes became even more frequent and violent. Immobilization and permanent nudity made the body available so readily that it stimulated everyone's sadism.

All the house servants, my guests, and friends amused ourselves by shoving objects up the animal's anus, crushing, twisting, and burning its scrotum for fun.

I held receptions, dinners, and parties, offering food, drinks, and my sex toy for everyone's enjoyment. During these parties, my guests received blowjobs, pissed in his mouth, or tested different types of whips by whipping him without limits or any worries.