By Hard Slave
It started with small requests, beyond my job description. Soon I found myself serving as his personal assistant, picking up dry cleaning, making his dinner reservations, covering for him when he didn’t want to see someone. The pay was good so I didn’t mind. Then one day my landlord told me I had to move out, someone in his family wanted my studio apartment. With nowhere to go, he took pity on me and said he had a room in his basement, complete with an en suite bathroom that he could let me have for free. Well, not exactly free. I had to agree to continue my role as his personal assistant in his home. I’d be at his beck and call 24/7 I realized, but I didn’t have much of a choice.
He showed me the room, it was unfinished with a concrete floor and with no door, it was open to the laundry room and basement stairs. the bathroom didn’t have a door either and the bed consisted of a twin-size mattress with no frame. But it was better than any alternative I could think of, so I agreed. He made me sign a lease to make it official, he said, even though I wouldn’t be paying any rent. I said sure and signed the paper without reading any of it, I was happy to have landed on my feet.
Things worked great for a while, I had to do some menial things around the house but it was ok. Truth is, I’ve always been a “beta” type of guy: little brother, sidekick to my best friend, gopher at my college frat… you get the idea. I didn’t mind cleaning, shopping or even the cooking. When he added laundry to my list I dutifully folded his underwear and ironed his shirts. I tried to ignore it when he called me “houseboy”, thinking he was joking.
One day he walked into my room while I was sitting on the toilet. He chuckled and said, “sorry” but he walked over and talked to me about some things he wanted done as i sat there, my hands covering my genitals. He talked for what seemed like an hour, then handed me some toilet paper and went upstairs. I was mortified. But my hard cock was fiercely pressing up against the toilet seat as I struggled to get it under control. I cleaned myself and blew a huge load afterward.
Within a few weeks, there were some financial setbacks at the company he owned and he had to make some tough decisions. He discussed the layoffs with me, and gently let me know I would be among the first to go. He reassured me that my role in his life would not change, and that he would pay me out of his own pocket if I agreed to continue living with him and increasing my duties around the house. I didn’t have much of a choice so I agreed.
He had to let his housekeeper go, so it was up to me to scrub the toilets and wash the floors in addition to everything else I was already doing. It was a bit demeaning, but I accepted my new role graciously.
One morning he walked into the laundry room wearing his expensive suit as I was folding his boxer briefs. He asked if I had seen any shoelaces in here. I found a new pair and he motioned to his black wingtips and said, “would you mind?” as he propped his foot on an upturned laundry basket. He had broken a lace and wanted me to replace it. I said sure, and knelt down, removed the old laces and began to thread the new ones, carefully inserting them into each hole. At one point I glanced up at him and he was smiling at me. I felt myself turn red, as I felt a stiffening in my crotch. I finished the task and had no choice but to stand, hoping he wouldn’t notice my burgeoning erection. I thought I saw him take a quick look before turning to leave for work.
I completed my chores, the thought of my unbidden arousal at his feet never far from my thoughts. At about 6pm, I heard him pull in the driveway as I scurried to finish making his dinner. We ate mostly in silence. Afterward, he plopped down on the couch, seemingly tired from his day at work, and held out his empty wineglass looking at me in anticipation. I immediately got him another glass of wine, and then he asked if I would untie his shoes. Apparently the way I knotted them this morning was giving him some difficulty. As I knelt before him, sitting on my heels, he rested his foot on my thigh. The contact of the sole of his shoe with the skin just below the hem of my khaki shorts sent a shiver of thrill through my body. What was wrong with me??
I managed to mentally stifle my growing manhood as I untied and removed his shoes. I began to rise, but he said “wait, would you mind?” as he presented his dress sock clad foot to me. I must have looked puzzled as he added, ” I sure could use a foot rub now”. Again, that boner-inducing smile…
Was I crossing a line here? I convinced myself that I was just doing him a favor, after all he had done so many for me. By this time he had removed his tie and shirt. His white tank showcased his masculine shoulders and muscled arms. I looked down and began to remove his sheer black over-the-calf dress socks. He hadn’t asked me to, but it seemed the natural thing to do. I remember thinking his feet were very manly, long toes with just a bit of black hair, nails trimmed perfectly. I continued the massage and thought I heard a brief moan from him. I looked up and our eyes locked.
There I was on my knees, massaging another man’s feet as he looked down at me. Not only did it seem natural but I felt a surge of arousal like none other. Without thinking, I bent my head and kissed his instep. He laughed just a bit and I felt incredibly humiliated. What was I doing?? I backed off but he said, “don’t stop, that felt great”.
With some reluctance I continued to kiss his foot. Then it came: “good boy”, he murmured. A wash of pride came over me as i replied, “thank you Sir”. I finished the massage, gently kissing his feet as I did, at one point even licking one of his toes. He abruptly stood, “that’s enough for tonight” and disappeared upstairs, as I remained on my knees feeling used, degraded and humiliated. It felt so good.
i slept fitfully that night, my nighttime erections frequent and demanding. The next morning i was taking a shower when i heard movement in my room. he appeared at the doorway to the bathroom in his suit and tie, and as i stepped out of the tub he handed me a towel (but not before giving my naked figure a good once over. i quickly wrapped the towel around my waist.
“i’m in a hurry and was hoping you could make me a quick breakfast, “he said. again with that killer smile… “sure just let me get dressed,” i replied. “no need, it’s just the two of us and i’ve already seen you naked”, he laughed.
i wasn’t sure if he was serious, but i quickly dried off and pulled on a pair of FTL tighty whities.
“Sexy look,” he commented, and laughed as we climbed the basement stairs.
i felt myself turn red and was glad he was behind me so he couldn’t see. i made his coffee, scrambled some eggs and toasted bread. i served him at the table and asked if there was anything else he needed. “No I’m good, but there is one thing” he said. “Yes?” I replied. “In the interest of saving money, I’m keeping the AC off completely while I’m at work. Feel free to open windows, and you should stay dressed like that (here he actually pointed at my cotton-clad crotch) to keep cool.” I said, “no it’s ok I can wear shorts and a tshirt.” “It wasn’t a suggestion” he said flatly. “I want you to wear only the briefs all day. Every day. Like a uniform. That’s all for now”, he said as he rose and left for work. A bit shocked, I cleaned up and began to tackle my tasks for the day. And yes, I stayed in my underwear.
He came home early that day. I heard the door open and he called out to me “I’m home, Houseboy!” I cringed whenever he called me that, but it did make my balls tingle. why?
His early arrival unexpected, I was still cleaning the toilet when he walked into the bathroom, on my hands and knees next to it, head down, cleaning the outside of the bowl. he said, “stay right there” and i heard him unzip his fly. the familiar sound of urine hitting water held my attention. i felt some drops spray on my bare back and he laughed. “looks like you’ll have to clean the rim again houseboy, why don’t you get to it?” he was zipping up his fly as i got up on my knees and saw the mess he’d made. “Well boy?, i want to see you clean that right now.” i looked up at him, he was dead serious. “Oh and boy? use your tongue”
“NO. this is where i draw the line”, I said nervously. I was shaking. he didn’t say a word, but unceremoniously grabbed me by the waistband of my briefs and pulled me to my feet. “what did you just say?” his low tone was calm, and terrifying. before i had a chance to respond he dragged me into the bedroom, sat on the bed and pulled me over his knee. My white briefs were firmly up my asscrack at this point, and before i could protest or struggle, he reached under my thigh and grabbed hold of my balls. he squeezed them tightly. “don’t move boy or you’ll regret it”. i didn’t know what to do I was so shocked. by the time he got to the tenth blow, i was crying and begging him to stop. “I’m sorry, i’m sorry, PLEASE stop”. he counted them off, getting to twenty. my ass was throbbing and my face burned with shame. finally he stopped, pushed me off his lap onto the floor.
“Remember who provides a roof over your head” he said levelly as he left the room. I stayed on the floor, my ass burning, tears streaming down my face, thinking I’d reached rock bottom. In a few moments he returned, carrying a bottle of lotion. He picked me up off the floor and laid me face down on his bed. A cool, soothing sensation brought me back from the shock of what had just happened as he gently massaged my still-sore buttocks. Occasionally his fingers would come close to the crease, but he’d back off and resume his tender ministrations.
This was by far the weirdest, and most erotic encounter we’d had since I moved in. My feelings were so conflicted. The humiliation was undeniably intense, yet it caused yet another erection. I thought of packing up and leaving, but dismissed that idea immediately (and not just because of my financial situation). The truth is, he was giving me something I never realized I was missing in my life: a firm guiding hand, direction, discipline, CONTROL. I wanted desperately to please him, to gain his approval. Could I live under his thumb? Would I eventually long for freedom and a “normal” life?
He tapped me on the ass, signaling the end to his post-discipline care of my bottom. As if reading my mind he said, “You can pack up and leave at any time, you know. I’ll give you a month’s salary to get you off to a good start. There is nothing that requires you to stay, but if you do decide to stay my expectations will be high. Can you commit to that?”
I didn’t need time to think. I desperately wanted him to know how committed I was. I got up and went into the bathroom. The seat of the toilet was still up, and his urine had started to dry on the rim leaving several bright yellow spots. I took a deep breath, knelt down and began to clean the rim. The taste of the dried piss was awful, bitter and sour. But it was HIS. The humiliation of the task was deep and intense, but it signaled to him that I would do anything to gain his approval. Maybe I should have been disgusted. Maybe I should have left. Yet there I was, erection throbbing, as I licked his toilet clean. He stood over me and watched. As I looked up at him, he smiled and said, “good boy”. A warm feeling crept across my chest as I smiled back at him, knowing I had pleased him.
Over the next few days our relationship changed. He laid out some new rules for me to follow and made it clear there would be consequences if I failed to comply. Among these was addressing him as “Master” whenever we were alone, restrictions as to diet, exercise, what clothes I could or could not wear. It was degrading, but as I had agreed to becoming his full-time slave I knew there was no choice. Do as he says or I would have to leave.
One of the toughest of his dictates concerned bondage. Once I signed off on becoming his possession, Master went on a spending spree. The boxes piled up at his door and I suspected they had something to do with me. The first item he showed me was a wide leather collar, the kind with “D” rings and a thick buckle that could be locked into place so that the wearer could not take it off. I would be required to wear it at all times. On the rare occasion when I would leave the house, he had a substitute thick chain and padlock that could sit under a collared shirt. This would not be noticeable at a casual glance, however it might cause a raised eyebrow from another Master or slave if I wore it in public.
I cannot fully describe the impact of feeling that collar being locked around my neck. It fit perfectly, not tight enough to be uncomfortable, but sitting in a way that prevented full up/down movement of my head. It brought tears to my eyes when I heard and felt the small padlock snick shut. I felt completely degraded, like I was his dog or something. As I struggled with decidedly mixed emotions, my cock throbbed to attention.