#714. 6.57 pm. I walk into a suite of offices. The receptionist smiles at me. "Oh yes, you must be the young assistant they sent over from the college. Mr. Sanders will be with in just a minute. It's the door all the way at the end of the corridor. The other partners have already gone home. I'll be leaving as soon as I send you along. Have a good night, and thank you for coming over to help."
Ha! He managed to spin this since he doesn't work alone. I hear a buzz. "It's time," she says, standing to put her coat on. "You go right ahead, young man. I'm sure he'll appreciate all your help."
Wow. She's really clueless, isn't she? I wipe the smirk off my face and practice walking away like the dudes I see in school. Three brisk raps on the door. "Enter," then "Lock the door behind you, please." I end up facing a tall overweight man, thing white hair, mustache and beard. He reminds me of an inspector at a Casino. He's completely as ease. I bet he sees gay prostitutes often. "Undress at a normal pace until you're completely naked . Lay your clothes items on the chair to your left. Proceed, boy." "Boy." Wow. I'm offended but don't show it. I lift my sweater off from the collar up and over then pull out my arms. I'm left wearing my short-sleeve t-shirt. I kick off my shoes then bend down to pull off my socks. I'm looking around his office but don't look directly at him.
"You might find this difficult, but I want you to look into my eyes as much as possible." I realize this would be almost impossible for straight boy so I fake a struggle. His eyes are dull; its hard to fix my attention on them. There's nothing appealing about him; he's just an ordinary man with a gay secret. It doesn't matter what he looks like. He's the one paying to look me over.
I pull my t-shirt off and look into his eyes the way he likes. They told me to wear a belt. I open it up then unbutton my pants. "Pull the belt all the way out of your pants and hang it over your nick." Wow! Kinky! I remember I'm supposed to be a straight boy so I act like this is fucking weird, but I to do what he orders. I know this creep won't hit me with my belt, but can't help imagining another business called "Beat the straight boy's ass with his own belt." Ha ha ha.
I get my pants off without losing eye contact, but then I look away. Now all I have on are blue boxer-briefs.
"Turn around and lower the underpants over your ass then hold it there." Ah. A connoisseur! I do as I'm told. "Pull them back up and turn around." I guess they told him I'd be shaved because he doesn't seem surprised when I have no pubes to show when strip all the way. I can't help wondering whether it costs more or less to get to see me shaved smooth like a little boy.
I stand there naked; the fucker's licking his lips and I'm surprised that it grosses me out. It's just weird. Usually a Master isn't planning to eat me. I'm the one with the oral talents, not the Master. But this guy, he really likes looking at my junk. automatically, I spread my legs just a little so my balls are hanging free. He inhales sharply. He obviously appreciated my move. I don't think a straight boy would do what I just did unless he had a lot of experience as a hustler. It's just a weird thing to do.
###Sub Protocols: Rules for Bois Number 84: A sub's legs must always be spread as far as possible. ###
"Fold your arms over your chest but make sure your nipples are visible." Interesting. "Turn around. Bend forward a little. Good, now bend all the way over." I'm surprised: he doesn't make me spread my cheeks. He makes me walk around the room for a while, then sit in a chair facing him with my junk visible. After a while he makes me stand up again. "Put your hands on your head." He comes over and rubs his hands all over my body then toys with my dick a little. He wraps his hand around my sac and squeezes just a little.
That's all. Time is up. He watches me get dressed. "Very nice. You may go now."
Oh-boy! One down, three to go. I can't believe how I almost got hard when he was handling me. I got lost, thinking about being inspected in a slave market.
Second guy, 43'rd floor, private office. Black man, impeccably dressed. Bald, scorching brown eyes, clean shaven. Well built. Several inches taller than me.
"Strip to the waist and take of your shoes and socks, boy." He keeps calling me boy but this time I don't react. I don't care if he thinks I'm straight or not. The idea of doing this for a black man has very special meaning for me as a slave and I can't help think of how awful we were to the blacks and how I'd probably let this dude do anything he wanted to me just to make up for all of it. I'm very sensitive about that stuff, so he can "boy boy, boy" me away.
He comes over and checks out my upper body with his powerful hands and goddamn he'd make an awesome gay Master. And holy shit, he actually inspects my upper body as if he were inspecting me as a slave, checking out my muscles then then invading my pits to get a reaction and laughing at me when I flinch.
I soak up the humiliation, of course. He makes me open my fly. He puts his hands on the top of my pants and then in one powerful move he YANKS my pants and underwear down and pulls them off my body. Presto! I'm stark naked in front of this big black man who enjoys doing everything he can to to humiliate the shit out of this white boy.
You know what? Fuck it all, I want to give this guy a really good time, just be a good slave for him. I decide to break all the rules. "Hey, this isn't included in the whole deal, but I want you to know that you can do anything the hell you want to me. I'm very submissive. Have your fun with me however you want, Sir."
And he does. Holy fucking shit. I have to put a stop to the slapping because I can't be marked up for the others. But you know what? Fuck it all. AS I'm getting dressed and trying to catch my breath, I tell him, "If you want, I'll come back around 11 pm and you can slap the daylights out of me."
He laughs but turns down the offer. But he give me a business card. "Call if you need some slapping. Identify yourself as "Spanky" Because that's what you'll be, boy."
I take the card and thank him. Holy shit, I got carried away with this guy, especially when he shoved his fingers almost all the way down my throat and then wiped the tears from my eyes with his thumbs. I swear, the first time I'm "off-duty" I might just want to give this guy a call. Or at least bring him to the Masters' attention so they can decide whether or not to send me back to him some day.
Back up to the 80th floor for number three. I'm getting really tired of talking off my clothes and putting them back on.
Huge fucking man in a filthy office with papers all over the fucking place and it stinks of tobacco. "so get those fucking clothes off, boy. Let me see the goods. Imagine you're showing off your body for a porno producer. Get the picture, boy?"
"Yes, Sir. I hope you like it," I reply, playing a little into his fantasy. I throw my clothes on top of the newspapers on the couch. I figure they'll stay cleaner there than on the floor. I was hoping to keep my shoes on and for once my hopes are realized. "Keep the shoes and socks on, kid. Not into feet."
But, holy shit, he's into everything else. He put me through a hundred different poses and each one was making me feel dirtier than the one before. I feel like a human piece of property he's considering purchasing. He puts his paws on every fucking inch of me. He handles my dick so roughly; it gets sore. The worst of all, probably, was when the fat son of a bitch actually took his thumb and fucking SHOVED IT right up my asshole then pulled it back out and it hurt like hell.
They said that one of the guys might want to watch me jerk off and I really started hoping it wouldn't be hum. But, fuck me, he said he wanted to watch me piss in his adjacent bathroom. When I was pissing into the filthy toilet, I swear I was afraid I'd catch a disease just from being in there! Anyway it took me a long time to get my flow started because he stood there watching me the whole time while breathing heavily. Gross. Finally some got going, but there wasn't really much. No one had given me any water to drink since I started tonight.
After I got dressed, I hightailed it out of there. I wish I could have taken a shower after all that.
It felt good to be out in the open air, and I took some time to myself before going over to the next meeting.
I'm told to take the elevator to the basement when I enter the second building. There's a key in the lock that sends the elevator to the basement with a note attached which says "turn the key. When the elevator arrives turn off the key and take it out. Bring it with you." "Yes, Sir," I say to myself, giggling. all so mysterious.
As soon as the elevator door opens, I can see why it took a key to get me down here. This fucking place is gorgeous. Luxury all the way. And then I got a look at Sir. OMG. Masterful--or at least, I wished I could call him Master.
I don't think he's really that much older than me. I'd be surprised if he's 30. His eyes pierce me like lasers burning their way into my libido. I wanted to be naked for him, but he didn't say anything. He just looked at me with a strange turn of his lips that I couldn't interpret. Was he scowling at me, or looking like he wanted to devour me? Did he want to whip the daylights out of me? Whatever. I was open to anything. I He could see how someone had shaved me bare. Usually when a Dom sees a boy shaved smooth like me, he realizes that all possibilities are acceptable.
"My name is Nick, but continue to call me Sir unless I give you permission to use my name. Turn around and slowly raise your shirt from the bottom up so I can watch you reveal the flesh on your back a little at a time. Do it now like a good boy."
Shit! I would do anything in the whole world to show him what a good boy I can be, even swallow an entire mouthful of thumbtacks. And that voice, sounding like liquid syrupy sex. If I could swallow it my throat would be coated for days afterwards, even more so than it will be coated after he cums down my throat while calling me "faggot cocksucker."
I'd gladly be his faggot cocksucker. I'd be his faggot anything. I'd die happy if he bought me at the slave market and kept me naked and in chains all the days of my life. I'd do whatever he asked me to do, as slowly as I possible could. Every quarter-inch of my creamy flesh is there to please him.
"That's real good, boy. Now pop the shirt it all the way off then wave your arms around so I can watch the muscles in your back move." I do what he asks, of course, and his quiet moan tells me that he likes what he sees as I keep moving my arms.
"Hold them up in the air as if you're bound to a whipping post." I take the position, wondering if that's going to be the way things end up tonight. I have to admit to myself that I'm really quite horned up after all the strange goings on tonight. All these older men getting off on viewing my naked flesh, guys who would never get to put a finger on a naked twenty-year-old unless they were paying for it. But these same guys have paid to do just that to me.
Bit by bit he strips me down and each little motion makes me feel dirty and perverted. I guess that's what he's aiming for, to get me to a state where I have absolutely no self-respect left. Nothing unusual about that, lately. I'm just a piece of meat unveiling myself in order to give pleasure to the one who paid to see me naked and spread out before him, hopefully trembling from something.
"That's right, boy. Show me all of you, every inch. Spread your toes wide so I can see between them. Yes, boy, that's nice. Now roll over and raise your ass as high as you can. Put your hands back there and spread those cheeks so I can see inside your crack. Expose your hole to me now for a while. That's nice, boy. Hold yourself open. I want to put my finger to your hole. . . . that's good, boy."
I almost passed out when he touched me back there. Sure, others have taken possession of my butthole, even fucked it roughly, but for some reason, exposing myself to this man and feeling him touch me back there makes me feel like I've been objectified more than ever before in my life. I'm nothing but an object for him to inspect. I move the way he directs me so he can take as much pleasure as he wants, not only from my body but also from my spirit.
He toys with my mouth in a way which reminds me of how I'd been humiliated last week. Surely enough, he fingers my mouth and slaps my face with quick brief slaps. "Oh fuck! I'm so sorry!" he says, apologizing. "I forgot my self. I'm not allowed to hit you, only touch you."
Dare I? Yes, I dare. "Once the hour is up you can slap me anyway you want to, Sir. I'm a sub and I'd love to sub for you however you'd like." "I'll keep that in mind. But for now, do what I tell you to do like a good boy."
And then I'm standing. Taking positions as he directs. Touching myself not for my own pleasure but for his. He watches me toy with my dick—the first time I've touched it in many months—but he doesn't let me get myself completely hard. The worst thing of all: he demands I open my piss slit as wide as possible and he stares right into it with his eyes close to the tip of my cock.
He fucking takes possession of the entrance to my sex and no part of me will ever feel the same again. He is conquering me, this awesome man with the seductive voice. Once again I realize that the purpose of my existence as a sub is to give pleasure to men. I doesn't matter whether or not I find them sexually attractive. I'm just a whore for hire
I am used up. I am taken. I am owned and possessed and I have no identity other than the one these Masters are giving to me. And then, when the hour is up and I think I'll be allowed to get dressed, he takes my face in his hands and kisses each of my eyes. "You are the absolutely most adorable specimen I have ever had the honor of examining. But it's time for you to get dressed and go off to your next adventure." Damn! I wish he'd keep me here.
That's the end of this chapter.
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I also wrote two stories with another name. One is "Q sub" and the other "Adoring Devin."