Houseboi in Training - 101

I was lucky to get my latest IT gig. Contrary to what the Advisors told me in college, any technical skill (no matter how good you are or how many years of experience) are easily Offshored these days... leaving you, as it did me, with a load of debt and a skillset that can barely cover those minimum payments. Ah heck, at least I didn't become an Art History Major!

In any case, I was able to hook on with a good financial firm at a decent enough rate (though I had to leave my home state) and I was – finally – starting to make ends meet (after being outta work for months since my last gig...) still, I did feel how precarious my situation was... and that's why... while I was bending over the sink at work and washing out my lunch dish... I didn't completely dismiss the proposition when some big guy reached around me to wash his cup and, almost, whispered in my ear,

"You should come to my house and wash my dishes..."

I had been propositioned before, by Guys, and, while it didn't freak me out, I had my reasons for not starting up anything with a "guy" In fact, I kinda avoided starting anything up girls anymore... since college... because the "free sex" was over and – whether they admitted it or not – they all expected the House, Garden, Kids and white picket fence... and I could barely figure out how to pay for my crappy car and the Extended Stay Hotel away from home... let alone take on someone else's (unrealistic?) expectations for Life.

But, in that instant, okay, I'll admit it, I thought "IF this guy was interested in me... and I could lower my expenses on the hotel and gas... IF He wanted me to live with him... and, well, would it be so bad if he wanted to suck my dick... or, what if He wanted me to suck his dick? Never did that before... well kinda... but not really... okay I thought about it... but that's another story... and, heck, IF girls can do it, why shouldn't I be able to something for Him IF he can do something for me?"

So – in that instant – I replied, "Sure, if You are close by, I'll do the dishes and even clean your house..."

Silence. Ooops. Did I reply to a Proposition... that was not really out there? I could feel myself blush with shame as he looked at me and I could not look Him in the eyes, even as I turned around to face him... He was big! Almost a head taller, older 50? (but I am never good at the age thing) and stocky, bulging in his shirt, suit jacket and pants... big buckled belt and big shoes... truth be told, I already felt like a bit of a "girl" standing there before Him... He was the kinda guy I would go out of my way to – avoid – had circumstances been otherwise... my masculine pride (or sense of self preservation) told me to back off, get out of this... do not engage... or just hope that I had misconstrued the situation.. and be glad to be free... but practicality (if not necessity) made me start to think, "What IF?"

He reached down with his large hand and pulled on my Security Badge with His thick, sausage type fingers... holding it up, He, again, whispered, "I'll get in touch with you this afternoon" and, with that, He was gone. If I was holding my breath, I now let it go now. What have I done? My head was spinning as I returned back to the common room where the consultants were packed in like sardines, working on temporary PCs that should have had warning signs on them "Don't Even Think You are Important!"

I picked up where I had left off with my latest program... trying to remember that last piece I coded???

But my thoughts were spinning through my head, "Is He going to call me? I don't even have a phone (other than my cell) so He must have meant he was gonna email me... but I don't even know his Name, so how would I know which email was from Him? There was nothing in my In Box, but judging by his suit (only senior managers, bother to wear suits these days...) He probably has a meeting or two to go to right after lunch... so He may not email 'til the end of the day... and IF it did, What would it say??? Everyone knows that all corporate email is kept, archived and part of the Historical record... so He won't be able to saying, well, detailed. And I had better watch what I say in response. After all, consultants can get fired at a whim... and it took me months to land this job... in fact, I better get back to work because I was sure that the clock was running on the finishing up my current program and the current manager I was reporting to was, well, not the kind of woman that like guys... especially guys who look half way decent and probably never asked her out in college. All I know was that she took an immediate dislike to me, when I was assigned to her group... so I was already walking on glass with her... hopefully this Guy will "save" me... that's the exact word that popped into my head. If He was into me, and I did what He wanted, maybe He could – well, not only cut my expenses – but get me a little more permanent position, here... how great would it be to work for a manager who wouldn't look at me with resentment for every guy that never ask her out... though, to be fair... I could think of – at least – three guys who looked like the Man in the Suit, who propositioned me back in the days when I thought Life was Free... and I blew 'em off (perhaps not in the nicest way?) and now I was hoping for His email to "save" me....

"Kitchenette Usage"

Whew – 4PM – it took three hours (me constantly checking my email and totally distracted from my work) but there it was... very "corporate" in fact, I almost thought it was an HR blast, something about consultants not being allowed to wash their dishes in the sink (giving all the other things that consultants were restricted from doing!) but there it was:

Consultant: R4559650

The Kitchen area is restricted for employees on the 5th floor. Please update your non-office contact information on the Consultant's Webpage so an official notification can be logged.

Samuel K Brummley Executive Director

HMPR Resources and Management

In fact, it could well have been from HR, but I don't think I was ever told that the kitchenette area was for employees... only? Maybe this was just that... a warning... and I was stuck in my prior circumstances, having wasted the afternoon hoping otherwise and not having finished the program I was working on....

Well, one way to find out (as I updated the webpage with my cell #) and that was to look up "Brummley" on the company's Who's Who... hmmm... only on "Brummley" and it had the corporate photo of the guy... "Executive Director", check, "HMPR" check... Oh shit! Activities: LGBT Chairman. So, not only is the guy gay, but he is the head of the LGBT initiative that was spearheading the company's efforts to attract "New Money" from the LGBT Community... in other words, this guy was Powerful and Untouchable.

I wonder if secretaries, oh, excuse me "administrative assistants" have these feelings IF their boss asked them out??? Of course, these days, with the "sexual harassment" lawsuits, any guy who would take out his secretary would certainly qualify as a guy who has no place in "management" – but – as odd as it may seem, LGBT managers are immune from this corporate standard (well, maybe on paper, but I do keep up and I have read of cases where a guy or gal tries to raise the issue because they went out with some manager who was of the same sex... and GLAD and other LGBT organizations threaten counter suits and the company is left in the middle... so nobody wins out (In fact, I think that the Managers won the two cases that I knew of... I might have googled it right there... but that would have been traced and it would have been "evidence" – all I did know was that this Guy was connected and... IF He was interested in me... and He wanted me down on my knees and sucking His dick... well, I was already in this too deep to back out now... and IF I was ever gonna do it... this would be the right Guy to do it for....

My cell buzzed:

"Dishwasher"

"Yes..."

(Should I? Shouldn't I? Maybe I should? Maybe I shouldn't... say yes....)

"... Sir"

Silence.

"Meet me at the Guard Station at 5PM"

Click

Not a Man of many words.

I was kinda put-off by the Guard Station. I was hoping that we could "meet for drinks" after work... so as to keep any – exit – anonymous. If I was going to walk out with the LGBT Executive Director at the Guard Station, at 5PM, then it would be pretty obvious, at least to the "guards" – who are supposed to notice these things... that I – only a consult-tant – was leaving with a Senior Director... what would that make "me" to Security... His bitch? Well, I guess IF that's the way He wants to play it. Okay. It's not like – NOT – showing up, now, was an option without its own consequences.

On the way out (and I'll admit, I was shaking with Unknown Anticipation for what I was doing...) my Female Manager insinuated that I was leaving "early" if the program was still not done, expecting OT (Uncompensated, of course!)

"I'll be back, (I wrote) Monday morning, at 7AM to, finish it up, Ma'am (first time I addressed her as such, but, now what I was calling my, potential New Manager, "Sir" and IF this interaction was reviewed, I didn't want my decisions to be perceived as "sexiest") it's almost running, but I will need to work on a more Test Cases."

(She likes to hear the phrase "test cases" – but what I really wanted to say was "Hey Witch, You think You are so bright! You finish it up... you can't even read code... you project pin pusher! I'm going out with an Executive Director and IF He likes me... IF I suck His dick really well... then I'll never have to see your sour face again! Pity You never even had that option." – but, as far as I knew, I still needed to be in this Hell Hole for the unforeseeable future... so...)

"Good Nite, Ma'am."

If my parents taught me one thing about how to get along in the (corporate) world, a little deference to one's superiors goes a long way in cementing your position... and these days that may only mean one extra month's pay.

At the Guard Station, I had to wait a few, uncounted, uncomfortable minutes... most people avoided the Guard Station on the way out, taking the side doors, because the guards were one step above Mall Cops, even though they tried to look like they worked for the NSA, bringing up your records, checking out your profile, asking you questions that – had an ordinary person asked – you might reply "Mind your own fuckin' business!" And, even though it might sound "racist", it seemed like corporations went out of their way to hire big, burly, Black guys who took a special interest in their limited power and authority. (Perhaps it was a psychological way to convincing you that IF you were thinking of any corporate malfeasance, you may as well end up in a place where these Guys had the ultimate power and authority....)

"Thank God!" I mumbled to myself when "Sam" finally showed up. The guy behind the desk had been running my badge through security and kept wondering why I was going through the Guard Station... and, not, sneak out the back like all the other "conslut-tants"??? (which is where I first heard the designation) No checking out "Sam" though...

"Mister Brummley, m' Main Man, had a good week?"

"Adequate, we'll see how it finishes off..."

(Felt like I was a 3rd wheel, and a Training Wheel, at that...)

"He's with me."

The Guard seemed to smirk. I would have smirked, too, if I was sitting there, seeing a large, older Man, well connected, talking about some young "gal" who needed her job, now leaving with him at the end of the day, at the end of the week... back in the good ol' days when, well, women had to do such things and it was great to be King! I could have just blurted out "Yeah, I'm willing to be His bitch to keep my job, what of it? Mind your own business" – but it looked like Security Guard already confirmed that fact.

And out the secure doors we went.

Of course, He was driving the latest Lexus, as I looked at my college poop-mobile from Govt Motors sitting at the far end of the lot...

Should I get my car and follow You?

Naw, leave it here. They don't check if it's kept here overnight.

"Overnight" – okay, so we know where this thing is going, right? At the very least I was gonna be spending the entire night with this guy, the Head of LGBT, the Man who could keep me gainfully employed... if, as my college professors would advocate, "Hey, guys, you can't really be sure that you are – not – gay... if you don't try it a couple of times... and see if you like it. Whadda ya got to lose?" (Of course, wouldn't you know that the only professors that brought that up... were Gay and they were hoping to inspire a few guys who might be sitting on the fence (post?)

But here I was... and it suddenly seemed like good, practical, advice.

As He opened the door for me, I was hit with that New Car smell and pleasant sounds of warning chimes, when He circled around open His door and got in on the Driver's side, "Buckle up" Oh, ya, right.

As we pulled out, again, past a Guard station and, again, past another Big Black Guy who exchanged knowing glances with "Sam" – checking me out... and giving a "thumbs-up" I truly started to feel like I was a little less of "me" and a lot more like "His" and, while the feeling was uncomfortable... a bit intimidating... I tried to focus on the advantages of.... Being His "boi?" In any case, it was way too late to back out now... And IF this meant I could have a little more income ... and, some, "job security" (what little THAT meant these days?) then who cared what other people really think? It's not like they were going to help me out... right?

"You work for Helen's Group."

"Yes."

"Yeah, that's not good. They are only funded thru next month, then they'll cut lose all the contractors..."

(That WITCH! She has been riding my ass to work late, weekends, piling it on... and She already knew that she was gonna cut me! Why did she even accept me when I was assigned to her me, when she knew that she was only going to keep me only a couple of months!?! Unless, of course, it was that "Oh, One of YOU bastards that didn't talk to me when I was in school... I can't wait to shit-can your ass!")

"I'm pulling you over to my group, you'll be reporting, directly, to me... not much coding, plenty of analysis... AND, of course, keeping Me happy."

"Thank, You..."

Thinking, thinking, thinking, oh, well, I already said it once and i may well acknowledge it now...

"Sir."

(Besides, I'd much rather be calling Him "Sir" than her, "Ma'am") and I went on...

I really, REALLY appreciate this, Sir, because, well, in addition to my school debts, I had been living a bit over my means... and, between the credit cards and college loan payments, well, a couple more months outta work, and I might have had to go bankrupt on the cards... and that would have meant (as He well knew) that I could no longer pass the background checks to work for financial firms...

Not a word.

I could have kept going, but I knew well enuff when to quit. Upon reflection, I had already said too much... in addition to making know how much I – did – truly appreciate His pulling me out of my Hell Hole, I was trying to "negotiate" the possibilities of being able to pay down my debt IF He didn't need "rent" or expenses... but, as I sat there in isolated silence, driving through the green suburbs of homes I could never afford, I realized that – my – problems were not His... worse, I had just blurted out how – now – completely dependent I was on His generosity and pretty much ruined any "negotiating" room...

I almost chuckled to myself, as I thought "I bet girls aren't as stupid to just give away the farm before they negotiate away their sex" but here I was, basically, saying, "Sir, I am in dire straits... and if You can help me, I will suck Your big fat dick whenever You want..." and stealing a glance at Him, I wondered, "How big is His dick was... and what must it taste like?"

By the time we reached His place, a large Ranch Style House, deep in the woods, off the main highway, very secluded, I was already in the "If I don't back out know, I don't think I'll ever be able to "backout" – and wondering if – not – "backing out" meant "anal" sex... too? He did mention I'd have to be doing, a lot of, "anal-y-sis" and wondered if that was His sense of humor... or just my own?

As, I got out of the car, I realized that I was already – in – His scenario... if He wanted "it" then i was gonna have to give "it" – else I would be outta work, probably for months, actually having to file for bankruptcy... and then I couldn't even get another "bitch" con-sluting gig, like this one, reporting to a Witch who could take out her adolescent disappointments on me. Like it or not – I was going to have to allow myself this experience, at some level, and – for the first time in my Life – I felt weak, vulnerable, and depended on another person with no leverage than – other what I was willing to offer... and I knew i was, now, willing to offer more than I had ever considered possible in the arrogance of my youth, when Mommy and Daddy were paying my bills and I thought Life was going to be Easy... now i knew it was hard... and filled with compromises... and i had only begun to fathom what the word compromise... really meant.

He picked up the mail, as I quietly waited, going through it, trashing a good lot of it in a receptacle already filled to the brim with junk mail, before taking out his keys and unlocking a conspicuously large, heavy, thick front door ("Looks like a door to a dungeon" I thought to myself....) I could – run – make a break for it thru the woods... but what good would that do... now? Worse, it would look real silly.

Inside, it was large, sparsely furnished house, no clutter ("Not much to "clean" if we are on that track?) And, passing the stark reception hall, we passed into a large living room, actually sunken, one step down, all carpeted, black leather, couch, chairs, metallic and glass furnishings and a large screen television... like I said "stark" (at least there were no paintings or statues of "naked young men" I, again, thought to myself.) He tossed his mail on a coffee table, plopped down in an easy chair the slid into a reclining position and looked at me.

"Keys, wallet, cell phone, on the table."

"Yes Sir."

As I emptied my pockets, adding a money clip and change to the collection, though, quite honestly, taking out my "money" clip in the lavish surrounding for a Guy like this felt like putting a nickel on the church collection plate... which I had done once, and got a look from the usher that made me feel "poor" but I figured "God understood"... does would God understand... this?" (while not "devout" I was raised as a Catholic and you don't get over that... especially, now, in circumstances like these, where the Church would say this was wrong... but my secular education in the University taught me that there was nothing wrong with this... and thinking so, made you a bad person... so you should experience it, as part of your repentance... or so insisted those Gay professors had that propositioned me... the Church thing did have some residual impact... that I won't go into....

"Strip"

Well, at least there was no more doubt about That! I started to unbutton my shirt, pull it off, tossing it on the coffee table, along with my "identification" and contact with the outside world... pulling off my t-shirt over my head, I felt a humiliation that I never had experience in my Life, and it only continued, as – He said nothing – so I unbuckled my pants, pushed 'em down, only realizing then that I would have to take off my shoes... humiliation gave way to confusion for a moment, should I sit, should stand, pull up my pants, hop around on one foot while I try to take the shoe off the other??? what if I fall over, wouldn't that be the Kodak moment to remember! He watched as if he were enjoying this immensely. Finally, I just lowered myself, squatted until I was sitting on the floor, took off the shoes (and socks, tucking them in my shoes, as was my habit) pulled off the pants and felt the need to stand up, in nothing more than my tighty-whitey briefs... the moment of truth. I froze. It was like the one last line to step over and I found myself waiting for the – prompt – to do so....
"Come on – let's see what yer packing, boy"

Crushing Humiliation, as I stuck a thumb in either sides of the last vestige of ability to call myself a "man" as I pushed down my remaining bit of clothing to show another Man my genitals and bare ass... i know that i was blushing, and to make matters worse, as I discarded the last stitch of clothing on the pile with the rest... okay, I can admit it (like i have a choice, now) I was never the most well endowed of men. In fact, aside from not being able to afford going out with girls (who look crossed eyes at you if you can't afford anything less than a restaurant with a waiter in a suit...) even in college, I found it difficult not to be self conscious – especially in these free-wheeling-where-girls-can-have-sex-without-compromise days – I KNEW that most, if not all, had been with guys who were a go deal more Showers than I was even a grower... Oh! They would never say anything , upfront, Oh, No, they would wait until the first argument and then lower the boom... "limp dick" "little prick" and the relationship ended, "I've been with Men that were Bigger soft than you are... hard!" Somewhere, along with inhibitions, women today have discarded tact, along with other quaint female proprieties, like being able to cook... and imagining that they should take care of their man. I mean why should a guy risk all He has (okay, in my case just bad debt) to venture into a relationship where he could consider himself "lucky" if he didn't lose HALF of everything he had made in his Lifetime??? And now I was naked, for a Guy, "Was this the preferred Alternative?" for our modern world.

"Cute dick"

Oh, okay, that wasn't so bad. I guess we got that over hurdle, at least... in fact, truth be told, it sounded far more accepting than the girls who chose not to say anything... truth be told, He didn't even sound disappointed. In a quiet way, it almost sounded like a approval? His Evaluation of me, continued, as He got out of His Easy Chair, came up to me and did a walk around... which was not quite as "humiliating" as I might have thought it would have been... given that this was the 1st time I was standing – naked – in front of another Male... not my Doctor who then asked me to cough... nor in the locker room with a bunch of guys (trying NOT to evaluate each other's "junk" as they too had some trainer grab hold as ask them to cough....)

No, this was clearly a Guy who liked to look at naked men and I got the strange feeling of... "pride?" "relief?" that i was passing His inspection. I can only imagine that this was what it must have been like – in the unrecorded History – when males were captured in war or after the capitulation of a besieged city and sold off and enslaved to other like Males who kept them out of the mines or working the rock pits or mines or rowing galley ships across the seas.... and – though emasculated – they considered themselves... Lucky! Of course, Historians tended to gloss over such implications and did not feel the need to note such details in the pages of History (at least as willingly as they felt inspired to describe how females were stripped, displayed and sold off as slaves – for all too obvious purposes – to titillate their assumed heterosexual male readership.)

"Get me a beer"

"Yes Sir"

Naked, "self enslaved" I walked on His carpet, in bare feet, crossed over the linoleum in His large and well equipped kitchen, to humongous refrigerator and pulled a Beck's out of the container, in an otherwise, sparsely stocked 'fridge. I immediately noticed the dishes... also not so much to keep a houseboi busy... though I think we have confirmed that washing His dishes had never been the primary interest which He had expressed (or even implied) that had got this whole thing started off.

Seeing a couple of glasses already washed and in the drainer, I took one, gave it another courtesy rinse, and stuck it in the freezer. It took several attempts to find the drawer with the silverware, utensils, and, finally, the cloth napkins and table mats... all nicely stocked, but rarely used... and I retrieved the chilled glass from the freezer and took the can of beer and napkin out to my "Master" (?) with an efficiency and care that I hoped would be appreciated. And He did.

"Nice"

I confess, i almost blushed with pride, as my initiative was recognized. Hearing no objection, I placed the glass on the napkin, on the table beside Him, poured the beer until it foamed to the brim... waited and then poured the remaining beer – fitting their entire contents in one serving. But what to do with the can? I just went back to where I had stripped – for Him – and held it, as he kept going through His mail.

"Okay, you can do the dishes, now"

"Yes, Sir"

That was what I was here for, preliminarily, right? I quietly walked out of His living room and, back, into His kitchen... to get to work. This was all going down quietly easily, I thought, much easier than doing the corporate 9 to 5 – and when had my "initiative" in a (real) job ever been appreciated? Provided I didn't have to pay rent or split the gas money (which it was pretty obvious He did not need or care about) – and, now, that I had Him protecting my assignment at work – this could work out to be a pretty sweet deal (providing of course, that I could accommodate the – as yet to be sorted out – 800 pound guerilla of Sex? But, then, girls deal with it, so why can't a Guy? In fact, how many girls have I had known that would have stripped down, got a Guy His Beer and Do His Dishes... on their 1st date??? I couldn't think of one, so I might be considered a pretty good catch?)

There were only a few dishes, so I skipped the dishwasher, filled one sink with soapy hot water (after having collected the dirty dishes in the other sink) and proceeded to soak and scrub and fill the drainer with His dishes, taking great care – so as not to break or scratch each (expensive?) dish, cup and glass. The silverware was real silver (but Who doesn't have that these days???) and I finished up with a good wipe down and hung the towel on a hanger (though it should have really gone straight to the wash...)

And, as I started to look for the next chore, He came into the kitchen, gave it the once over, seemed to have no problem... but I was too shocked at His change in attire...

He wore a Black Leather Vest, open disclosing a naked hairy chest, defined pecs, decent guns (and I say that having neither...) and Black Leather jockstrap under his large belly (not obese... but my Master had enjoyed His meals over His Life....) and, below His large, thick thighs, rough-shit-kicker-boots, ... IF He wasn't padding, He was packing a cock and balls that made me start to wonder IF i could even satisfy Him... mouth or ass??? The one thought that filled me with a strange mix of appreciation... and fear... was that THIS is a Man... far more MASCULINE than I could ever pretend to be... and, naked, Mano-a-Mano, there was no reason to do anything... but acknowledge it.

"Good Job, but we got a problem"

I looked around the kitchen trying to imagine what had not been done???

"Hands on the sink, back to me and spread 'em"

Just when I had thought I had made a good impression, it was right back to the humiliation column, as I (for the first time, somewhat reluctantly) put my hands on the sink (that I had just cleaned) and allowed myself to be put into the prone position, back to the room, looking out at His Garden, naked (thank goodness there were no neighbors who could spy through that window) legs spread, and having my ass touched, by His big hand.

"You were so good, boy, acknowledging me as "Sir" – I thought someone must have already trained you?"

("Trained?")

"No, Sir, I just heard, uh, that is supposed to be the acknowledgement from one man to another..."

"Boi"

"Uh, yes Sir, a "boi" if he is willing to... a... wash another Man's dishes?"

"So, you have not been "trained"

"No, Sir. I am not even sure, Sir, what that means?"

"Well, boi, it starts with calling your Master, "Sir" but that means you ALWAYS acknowledge your Master as "Sir"

"Did I not do that, Sir?"

"Not when I told you to strip."

(Re-playing those earlier moments, I wanted to say "Can we go to the video tape" and make light of it... but i sensed that this was not something to be make light of... nor would a sense of humor be appreciated... at least as much as an act of contrition....)

"I am sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."

"It happened twice"

"I am sorry, Sir."

I guess Pain really does travels faster than Sound... because I felt a wicked, stinging, burning sensation on my right ass cheek, seconds before I heard the "Smack" as His big Hand landed on my ass. It took me a minute to register what just happened. I had only been spanked, really belted, once as a kid and the guy who did it – didn't immediately caress my butt to make it feel better... and then another smack! If there was any vestige of feeling like an "adult" left in being naked and having another Man smack your ass... it was gone by the third smack and the hoping that He would rather caress my butt than smack it... by the fourth i was ready to cry.

"Please, Sir, I swear it will NOT happen again, Sir!"

"Stay put!"

And with that , i was left standing alone, naked, at His sink, not daring to disobey because NOW i was beginning to understand what i had gotten myself into... this would no longer be about – me – saving a little money... or prolonging my assignment at a company or even being able to stave off bankruptcy and having to endure even harder days... these were all facilitators to what would become "Modern Day Slavery" (only voluntary, at least on paper ) – about belonging to a dominant Male and knowing that you must obey Him – else there was going to be... punishment. The very word now meant something, as my butt stung, but i did not dare to touch (caress) it to ease the prickly pain... because He did not give me permission. So THIS is really what i had gotten myself into... being kept naked, calling the Man who kept me so, "Sir" (or "Master?") knowing that He had control over my Life and that i must now obey Him and be subject to His every Whim... clean His House, get His beer... suck His cock...get fucked.

And, suddenly, to my great surprise (though it may not seem so odd to anyone who has experienced this before... or even only fantasy about it...) my short, little dick, started to get stiff... i really, really had not considered that... possibility? I mean, I did think that IF He wanted suck my dick and it would just get hard and I would probably cum... IF He wanted to do that... but once i realized that He was the Dominant... Male, and that i would probably have to be the one who will be sucking His... cock (though i really didn't know what that would mean) i assumed i could do THAT... and– not –become sexually arouse at the thought of doing IT... but here i was, realizing that – IF i did not suck His Cock – i would be punished... and i did NOTto want to be punished... so i was going to be sucking His Cock... and the very thought of having to do it... was making my own dick, start to get stiff... Sounding pretty naïve, huh?

He returned, and ignored my little stiffy (that I was trying to suppress... "Gawd, I did NOT want Him to think that beating my ass would make me... hard!") But, my heart sank, along with a semi-hard on, when I saw a wooden paddle and the black leather strands of a whip on the counter... "Shit!" I was numb for fear, as He took arms, standing behind my back, and pull them behind me and fastened some short of handcuff, binding my so that my arms and hands were useless... and i felt even more under His control than i did before...

"Com'on"

Taking me by the arm, i was led out of the kitchen, down the hall and into His bathroom... there, in the mirror, i had to see myself, naked, standing with a Dominant Male dressed in black leather... His pouch filled with cock and balls, while mine genitalia were exposed, and my short dick just a little bit stiff, swing back and forth (well, at least i didn't have a hardon...) And i caught a glimpse of my butt... it was already red... and He put the paddle and whip down on the counter top, in front of me... i wanted beg, "Oh Please, Please, Please..." but i knew that was probably not what He wanted to hear.

Instead, He took out an electric razor and nonchalantly started to remove my body hair...

(Wow, i didn't see that coming, either, but, in the moment, it seem perfectly natural if He wanted to keep me naked that He groom my body the way He prefers to see it... i just never really thought about what submission would really mean... and i could only watch myself be shaved, as He ran the razor over my chest, stomach, and thatch of hair just above my gentiles... then He drew some warm water, dispensed some lather and proceeded (clinically) massage the remaining above and all hair below and took a straight razor (odd it should be called that...) and removed every last trace of masculine pubic hair... in minutes, a Lifetime growth was gone and my cock and balls were displayed as something objectified, un-natural and owned.

"You will shave yourself, every day."

"Yes, Sir" (looking at the paddle and whip and remembering that I was just one "Sir" short of experiencing those...)

"You'll clean this up later"

As the houseboi in me had already surveyed my pubic hair on His floor, mixed with soap on His countertop and a sink that needed cleaning...

"Yes, Sir"

But that could, evidently, wait as He marched me out of the bathroom... further down the hall and into His Bedroom... by the sight of which was much more than a room one sleeps in...

In addition to a large four post bed with convenient hooks able to anchor a body by ankles and wrists.... There was a three-sided-mirror that, oddly enough reminded me of a triptych (those three sided religious paintings where one could see the from the front, left and right side, some event... like the crucifixion...) down from the center beam of the ceiling (I had only noticed how the frame of this house was constructed of solid wooden beams behind the more contemporary walls, carpeted floors and marble in the kitchen and bathroom... was a chain with single ring hook onto which handcuffs (like mine) could be locked. And, directly below, a platform with two heavy metal anchors? My Master guided me onto to the platform, detached the cuffs around my wrists, but only so long as it took to reattach them , raising my arms over my head (the thought occurring to me that i was in waaay over my head...) to the chain... then He produce two new "ankle" straps, fastened them to each of my ankles and locked them in the floor anchors, so that my legs were spread wide and there was no way to hide or protect my cock balls, or ass. Finally, the piece de resistance: a thick black leather collar with studs and an O-ring... was locked around my neck, a little loose...

"Don't worry we'll get a custom fit"

(How was that going to be accomplished...)

Never in my life had i felt so vulnerable, weak, in control of Another Male... like what might happen if you are challenged in a fight – declined – but were not allowed to walk way (or run) but submit... and be made to stand, naked, bound and enslaved... next to the Man who now owns you, He, still dressed, but in this case, wearing all the gear of Man who lived in the Lifestyle of leather, boots, jockstrap and vest – as I heard put once "The Lingerie of Masculinity" (that "straight" guys avoid acknowledging at all costs.)

"Paddle" or "Whip"

I pretty much knew that "neither" was not an option... the "paddle" looked frightening, a thick, flat wooden block with holes (what were the holes for???) so the "whip" looked a bit – less – so (just narrow strand of black leather strips...)

The "whip" Sir.

Putting the wooden paddle to the side, He dragged the whip along my clean shaved body, over my shoulders, down my chest, stomach, lingering over my cock and balls so i could feel like what it meant to be gentle, down my thighs then back and forth across my butt... already i wanted to beg, "Please, Sir, no, i will do whatever You say, what You want (as thoughts of suck His cock and being fuck by His cock up my ass flashed across my mind... and i felt my balls grow tight and my dick start to grow stiff again... not from the thought of being Whipped... but from the mere threat of IT... if i did not submit.

But i knew enough to keep quiet as the whip was raises and descended across my ass – stinging me to immediate tears – as I tried not to cry out.

"Like that?"

What to say, truth? What He wants to hear? What does He want to hear?

"No Sir, but i deserve it IF i was in anyway disobedient, or failed to serve... or You enjoy it, Sir"

"Very Good. You almost covered all bases..."

The whip came stinging around again, gratefully on my butt. The thought of being whip across my back, chest or, worse of all, my cock and balls just made me feel white with fear... but what had i missed?

"Let's try that paddle, maybe that will inspire you."

The thought of breaking free and running away, like one of those Hollywood movies where they take you to the very edge – then "save" you – was unquestionable denied by the chain and locks that kept my arms and legs in place. I could only wait, as He slowly exchanged whip for paddle... that the Man who had just Mastered me... had some mercy... some greater desire for my submission – as my desire to submit was greater than any thought or feeling that i could have ever possibly imagined before....

"Whack!"

Yes, the paddle was far worse, unforgiving, a sold wooden block. If thoughts of submitting to Him were starting to arouse me... that thought evaporate with the very first landing of His paddle on my butt. And it only felt worse when a second whack landed on my other butt check. With a sense of relief – and GRATITUDE – i felt when He put down the paddle, next to the whip, and came back to me, gently massaging my sore and stinging butt.

"So which did you like the most?"

"Honestly, Sir?

"Okay"

Whew! For the first time i felt like i could appeal to His Better Nature...

"All three; paddle, whip and being spanked by Your Hand, were just painful. Sir, i understand that i should be punished if I am disobedient, disrespectful or fail to please You, in any way, Sir, but i was hoping, praying, Sir, that i could avoid such punishment... by just being your... slave?"

It seemed like there would be an eclipse of the sun or a tectonic shift of the earth's plates before i would be allowed to hear the answer to my plea...

Would you rather be sucking my cock?

Yes, Sir.

Have you ever sucked another Man's Cock before?

No, Sir, but i want to learn – exactly – how to do it, to please You, Sir.

What about getting fucked up the ass... have you ever been fucked up the ass, boi?

No, Sir, but, again, i would feel that it is Your right to fuck me up the ass anytime You want and i would hope that it would give You pleasure, Sir.

Another long silence... but i could feel that the bonds between us, as Master and slave, tighten as, we starting to dig deeper into what it meant to be His slave.

As He began to trace a line from my chest, down my stomach, to my dick, barely stiff (less so at the thought of the being beaten some more...)

"Then why isn't your dick hard, boi? When a slave is thinking about sucking his Master's big, thick cock... and having his Master's big, thick cock shove up his male cunt... a good boi can't help get a hardon and he is proud to show his Master how hard and excited his emasculated little dick gets.. when he knows that he will be getting to suck and getting fucked by his Master's Big, Thick, Cock. Why aren't you hard, boi?"
I guess honesty is the best policy and I may as well confess it to Him, as I have had to do to myself.

"When i was young and in Catholic School, there was an older boy, a bully, who would boss me around, take my lunch money, humiliate me in front of the other boys... and i didn't say anything because i didn't want to fight Him – he was stronger than me – and, Sir, when He would tell me what to do... it made me feel warm and strange... inside. I didn't know what that might mean, until he took me down to the steam room, after school one day, told me to take off all my clothes and kneel before Him..."

"Did you have a hardon..."

Even at this moment, I felt myself blush, with shame...

"Yes, Sir. i had started to get hardons for days, weeks, before, when I was alone in my room, in bed, at night, and i thought about seeing Him the next day... but i felt it was something i should keep to myself and i couldn't believe that it would ever mean anything... until i was naked, on the concrete floor of the stream room, with the blast furnace fired up... and having Him stand over me. He told me to play with myself, to masturbate before Him and show Him how hard my dick gets when i think of Him. And it was the most gratifying feeling to be kneeling there, naked, stroking my hard dick (which I had refused to do when I was alone, for fear that it was... a "sin") but He insisted I do this... for Him... until the lights were on and the room was suddenly invaded by the Janitor, Monsieur Father and some altar boy....

He told them that I had been begging to suck his cock (which I had not) and that I had admitted I was a "faggot" (which I did not – I didn't even know what a "faggot" was???) but he was believed and the Monsieur Father told me to bend over a work bench, took off his belt, and proceeded to beat me, in front of the others, telling me that I had sinned... that I was never to allow these thoughts to come into my mind again... and that I should only allow myself to get a hardon, when I was blessed by the sacrament of marriage... (he didn't have to specify "to a girl" but that was then... and this is now.)

Please, Sir, since that day I have thought of such things as a sin and I have not – dared – to masturbated to anything but thoughts of sex... with a female.

(Okay, I did not go into how I could ONLY get hard – when thinking about having sex with a "girl" where I was the girl... getting fucked... in my cunt... and, after a while, that became a satisfying compromise between wanted to have sex... but remaining "straight" according to my Roman Catholic Ass whipping... oh boy, I guess my Life has been a bit screwed up...)

Thankfully, He did not question (or beat) me further...

(I even feared our little adventure was over... that He would find all of this... un-acceptable... and I would be back, at work, for the Witch, dropped back into my Life with few prospects of just living month-to-month paying debt and fearing bankruptcy and even further depravations...

So One may understand, how GRATEFUL I was that this was just a bump-in-the-road, as far as He must have been concerned... as He took me to His bed.. and i felt, now, relieved that – we – were moving forward. Didn't mind at all, when he reattached my wrists, by the handcuffs, so my arms were locked at my sides, or my ankles straps to the far corners below me... as i lay naked, on my back, my wrists and ankles locked and wear His collar around my neck... i started to feel the warm comfortable feeling of being... owned... of not having the burden of freedom and the indecision of having to make choices... there, for better or worse, my options... were His and His alone.

"First, we have to retrain you ..."

And with that He climbed over my chest, towering over me as His knees pinned me on each side... undid a hook on His jockstrap... letting His Cock and Balls free...

All i could think, as i lay there under Him, made to look at His thick cock and heavy balls... was "He's huge... it's only fitting that i should be made to serve... Him.

"You keep looking at that, boi, for that is what you will learn to serve, worship and... enjoy.

"Yes Sir" (though i really didn't know what He meant by "enjoy?")

Then He swung around, lay down beside me, on my left side (His cock and balls swinging free and flopping to this side and that as he repositioned Himself) then dug one of His arms down under and around me, so that He embraced my torso...

"Cute nips"

And, taking hold of each nipple, He proceeded to stroke each in a way that i had simply never felt before... for some unknown reason, i never touched my nipples, nor had any girl (of the few) that i had been wit' – and this was a completely new and incomprehensible... sensation. The realization kinda hit me that He could give me a hardon without even touching me... below... just playing with my nipples, i could be aroused and not really be able to prevent it??? Like a nasty slave's chain – inside my own body – i felt it pulling and tightening between my legs... and my balls tighten and my dick start to grow stiff, again, but not out of any psychological desire to be controlled... but a real, undeniable, physical response that i felt i had no power (or will) to control... then He let go of left nipple, holding onto my right, pinching it firmly, and started to trace His big fat finger... down along the top of my dick....

"You know you will be whipped if You do not obey."

"Yes, Sir"

"Good. Now, consider, that Man who beat your ass because you fell in love with that bully..."

(Hadn't thought of it in those terms... but – okay – I guess that's another way of putting it... scary to think it was correct???)

"The priest could just as easily whipped you, then unbuckled His belt, lower His pants and told you to suck His cock... else He would beat you some more..."

"Yes, Sir" as i really hadn't considered the possibility... but it could just as well have happened given the penchant for clerics to have a particular interest in young boys, of late, and as His finger traced a nasty line along the top of my dick... the thought of having had that discipline go another way... started to make my dick grow stiff...

"And you would have taken His cock in your mouth, and sucked It – in front of, who, the Janitor, an altar boy – who would probably tell the whole school – and Bully who put you in this position... in fact, they could have insistent (so none of them one would dare tell anyone else...) that you would have to suck – all – their cocks... and, one by one, suck each cock... until you..."

(My dick got harder)

"Swallowed ALL of their seed...

(Oh, God, the thought shot thru my dick, tighten my balls and i was now fully aroused... by my Master... having NO way to hide from Him how my "cock" had become completely aroused at the thought of being made to suck three... four guy's cocks... and He seemed determined to make sure THIS would be the main bond between us... this clear admission and understanding that being made to suck cock would always make me... hard....)

He pressed His point...

"And, all four would know that you were a "cock sucker" and that you would suck their cocks... now... and any time they wanted... because – not only were you not going to tell anyone that you were a "cocksucker" – but, now, you knew that the ONLY thing "straight" about you... was the hardon that you would get... when you were told to get down on your knees and suck a Dominant Male's Cock!"

And with that, He took firm hold of my hardon and i could do nothing but admit that – yes – i was a "cock sucker" and could feel nothing but my full and complete arousal at that thought... at that admission... and at the knowledge that HE knew It! So this is how one could "enjoy" it how one could be made to LIVE for the... Rapture... to use the same religious term that I had been taught to think of as the reward for not giving in to one's basic, animal, desires... but being nothing more than another Man's slave, naked, collared, on my knees... sucking His cock whenever and where ever He wants... grateful to swallow His seed... while spewing my own seed, on the ground... before Him... acknowledging that there was no reason for me to breed...but to forego all masculinity thoughts, feelings and desires... subordinate to His Masculine Thoughts, Feeling and Desires... and i could have well been made to do this, back then on that Fateful day... made to submit before four other Men... sucking their cocks... and have to acknowledge my overwhelming desire to do so... oh, how my cock was throbbing at thought of all of this, in my Master's Hand.

"So, which One?"

"Sir"

"Which one would you have wanted to take you as His slave..."

It had never occurred to me to even consider that the four Males at that moment in my Life might have had any interest to making me their slave... but, now that i thought about, well, the answer was immediately clear; Not the priest, who was a kindly older man (perhaps "gay" as so many were... but he would probably have rather sucked my cock, had he been...) Not the altar boy (goodness, I couldn't even think about doing – this – with another male, let alone a male my age, or younger, than myself... it didn't make sense to submit to someone... like "me") and, surprisingly, in spite of my revelation, no, i would have – not – wanted to be claimed by my "bully" that I had loved... oh, i knew it would have come down to that... after all, it was his specific (cruel) interest in humiliating made... that attracted me to Him in the first place... but the thought of that being that basis of His sole interest in me spoke of a Sadistic streak that i now (present circumstances taken into account) would have to consider... self destructive... like an alcoholic who knows what's what... but takes that drink anyway. So it was obvious...

"The Janitor"

"Why?"

"Because, Sir, He was most like... You. He was quiet, big, burly, Masculine (without any need to show it) The thought He – IF He wanted – wanted to keep me for Himself (had He enjoyed me sucking His cock that day, or approached me thereafter...) would have made me feel warm, and vulnerable and excited... as I did, Sir, when it sounded like You were interested in making me... yours."

It must have been the right answer, because He raised himself over me, straddled me, and sat on my chest as a Lion might sit upon His prey... and roar before devouring "it"

But my training was to go even deeper...

He unlocked the wrist straps, took me by each wrist, and demanding...

"Now you are unbound – physically – but you remain bound and obedient in every other way..."

He put my left hand, down, at my (still semi-aroused cock... since He let go of it) and the other on His pectoral muscle...

"you will play with yourself... feel your arousal... show me how hard you dick gets... when seeing and holding your Master's muscles... My Chest, My arms, My thighs... from now on, you will ONLY be allowed to play with your – faggot – dick... when you are thinking about your Master's Masculine body... how much bigger and stronger and more powerful He is... how it is pointless for you not to not to – worship – a Man who is greater than you... you know it is ONLY your place to submit and serve Him..."

And, as He spoke, i did so... i felt His muscled Chest – so much bigger and stronger than mine – His biceps – powerful – able to pin me down, hold me, make me admit He is far stronger than i (and, as i ever have been, from birth, weaker than this Man who now claims me...) but, greatest of all, His thick thighs , holding me down on both sides of my torso... He could easily crush me... IF He didn't want me... to submit... to serve... to acknowledge that - jutting out from the frame of those two great thighs and well below that Masculine torso... was His Cock, aroused, needing to be sucked (and fuck) and shoot forth some unquantifiable gobs of seed that had collected in His great balls since that last time He filled my mouth (or ass) and all i could do was prostrate myself and submit...

"And you may as well enjoy feeling your "faggot" cock and balls free to play wit'for now – because, at all other times, along with my your collar and wrist and ankle straps, you will be locked in this..."

From a nearby drawer, he pulled a small leather contraption that had loops and snaps...

"See – this goes around the base of your cock and this around your balls and this is wear a leash can be attached... so that – at all times – you will feel owned, as your cock and balls will be held out on display... especially when my – likeminded – Friends drop by and you will no longer be able to hide the fact that you belong to Me! You remember Jason and Chuck?"

Through the ecstasy of playing – w/o the slightest need for shame – with my full aroused cock and balls... i just heard two irrelevant names...

"They are the Security Guards, who checked you out... they love to come over and have their cocks sucked by one of my boi's once I have properly trained 'em..."

Immediately, the image flashed across my mind of having Big Black Cock shoved in my mouth... and i almost lost it... backing off under some last inkling that I should not be giving in to this...

"Keep Playing with your hardon, faggot, you are gonna show me how you will ONLY be able to cum – from now on – when you got cock shoved in your mouth and up your ass... and sucking and being fucked is all you will ever want from your Master and His friends...

In fact, boi, I may just decide to end your contract at work, force you into bankruptcy and Marry you... keeping you as my stay-at-home-as- own-little-house-cleaning- meal-cooking-suck-and-fuck-sex-slave...

Full time!

But, then you wouldn't be available to suck my cock under my desk at work... and I think I'd like that too...

In any case, you are Mine! Now Show Me what a male slave does when acknowledging his Master!"

And, with that, i ejaculated my worthless seed in complete acknowledgement of my emasculation.