A Submissive's Journey Pt. 02

What was the worst for me was that as I went back to my seat after there was this short burst of applause like everyone in the room knew I was a rookie.

I polished off the rest of my drink as I seated which was probably a mistake because right there the rest of the night out gets pretty cloudy for me. I know that we stayed for more dancers, but not really how many. There were a couple more rounds of drinks and then we were back at Tom's place.

My memories are kind of like little flashes for a bit. I did have another shot or two once we got back. I also remember kind of coming too from being passed out and lying on a bed in some strange pair of like gym shorts, but no one else was in the room. I also remember being in the bathroom puking.

Then I go black for a while.

When I came to it was almost to a sudden clarity. Sure it still felt like I had a buzz on, but it was more like after you have a few than being totally blasted and throwing up all over.

My first sensation was a slightly familiar one. I had a cock in my mouth. Below me was a white fleshy belly button moving closer then further from my eyes. It felt almost like a dream to the point that I had to stop and look around a bit. Up toward Tom's smiling now questioning face and then down at my own naked cock.

He seemed to think that me looking down like that meant that I wanted to have some attention of my own, because he reached down and started fondling my dick as well. I just really didn't know what to think I was confused so I did what seemed natural at the time and went back to bobbing my head up and down on his shaft.

My mouth was all juiced up already from having been sucking him for however long it was. He as a bit smaller than the other guy had been really not much larger than mine was so it was pretty easy for my to go almost the whole way down and then back up again.

The tip was quite unique though, seeming almost to be a separate entity added on top of the shaft. A much larger mushroom head was all softness where the length was firm. I felt the friction of the pole on my lips while the helmet caressed my tongue back and forth.

I pulled back and started to concentrate on just that bulbous head licking it while making little sucks of it with my pursed lips. He moaned as if in pure heaven in reaction, which only made me do it more, but I went too far and it was too sensitive for him so he pulled me off a minute.

My eyes moved up his chest and shyly to his, which were full of glee above the big beaming smile on his face, then went back down to the cock below me. I then realized fully what exactly I was doing here. I was sucking on my bosses' cock. There was no taking it back. No matter how I tried to blow it off you just couldn't when a guy has had his dick in your mouth.

This was different than the stranger in the bookstore booth. That guy I would never see again. With him my secret could still be a secret. But Tom? I would see him everyday. Every smile might be him thinking of me down there with his cock in my mouth.

A wave of shame washed over me much like when I had been left kneeling in the booth, but this time I was still in the act.

At the same time Tom took the hand, which had been on the top of my head and pushed my mouth back onto his waiting cock. My first instinct was to resist and I did for a bit, but it only took a bit of pressure and my muscles relaxed, giving in to the oral penetration.

To him I was just continuing my previous actions. He could not possibly know that it was different for me now. His thrusts invaded my mouth; a hot, hard foreign pecker taking my manhood with every thrust. Not that I stopped him. My own cock betrayed me, flailing about like a reed in the wind with our motions.

He started to leak some precum now making my mouth even more slippery. He didn't work me deep just fucked my face with the first couple inches. Short piston blows finished him off and he was unloading into my mouth.

I don't think that he had beat off before using me that night, because he cam a lot. More than I ever had. Each spurt I felt on my tongue and then seeping through my mouth. Some slipped down my throat, but most of it gathered and soon I was filled up with his salty white juice, holding the soft mushroom head in me while the hardness receded.

With a pop I sucked and removed him. Pulling my head back, I swallowed.

Licked my lips.

Took my finger and wiped the lower lip where some moisture remained.

I looked back up at him and with a most guilty stare stuck the finger in my mouth and sucked the sweet slimy taste of him clean off.

I had to leave now.

My clothes were found in a panic and I barely remember leaving. Running to my place and slamming the door behind me, I flung myself on my bed, rolled to my back and crashed into a deep sleep after having one thought.

"I work tomorrow night."

-

So jarring was the crush of the slamming door that I sat straight up in bed, instantly awake.

I turned to the source of the disturbance.

"Fuck!" yelled my roommate. "Sons of bitches are throwing me out."

I didn't have any idea how that could possibly be a surprise since it was practically the first time I had seen him in the month since break, but wisely I kept my mouth shut. My head was killing me anyways.

Greg ran about the room ransacking it as if he were a burglar, and, gathering up a pile of belongings into a couple suitcases left as quickly and suddenly as he had entered.

I fell back into my pillows and contemplated a few more hours of sleep. The sandman would not come, however, before I was recalled to the events of the night before. There was a dreamy quality about the whole thing. For a moment I thought, hoped, prayed in vain that it was in fact just a dream.

As real as the hangover I was now suffering was the fact that I had fellated my Boss in a drunken stupor the night before and that I was going to have to see him this very evening. It simply didn't seem possible that I was going to be able to pull that off.

Maybe I could just tell him that it was all a mistake and to please just leave me alone about it and maybe not talk anymore, because the job was ridiculously easy and I was getting used to the money from it.

Maybe he was so drunk that he woke up feeling guilty and would just try to brush the whole thing under he rug as well. Oh if things could just have been like they were the day before.

A flash of anger came over me thinking that he had taken advantage somehow and made me suck him off, but I quickly dismissed that, since how would he know I did that anyways. Hadn't he taken me to a strip club for straight guys? I mean I was a straight guy. Wasn't I?

Maybe that was the whole thing that I couldn't take. My own sense of identity, my being, who I was.

I paced the room in kind of a funk for a few minutes just trying to get a handle on things and realized that I was still in my semi dress clothes from the night before. If I was going back to sleep I was going to want to get into the sweats that I slept in normally.

I stripped down to my naked form and looked at myself in the mirror. There was going to be no comparisons to any sort of athletic beefy guy looking in that mirror. I knew it was pretty much my lot to be this almost rail thin, kind of geeky guy. I was smaller in stature, but also what swung between my legs. The whole picture made me not feel very manly at all. In fact., it could be said that I was almost feminine.

Was that why the guy in the bookstore just assumed that I would kneel for him? Is that why my boss had taken me out probably just to get some sex from me? Maybe that was why the girls didn't seem to flock to me as they did to some other guys. Perhaps they saw something in me that was destined for this life of pleasing men instead.

It was hard to throw the idea and what's more even though it brought up feelings of embarrassment, it also felt kind of right. Wouldn't someone that was more of a man have acted differently with the dancer the other night? Shouldn't I have hit on her or called her sexy or something? I didn't even do anything, just passively gave her the bill, took a peep and went back to my seat.

All of the time I was having this introspection I was looking myself over in the mirror and something did not look quite in place. My knees seemed to have some sort of marks on them. I bent down and looked closer at them and sure enough there were what looked to be brush burns on each knee. I looked quickly at my elbow, seeing the same mark.

Then my hands went quickly to my butt.

My instinctive body language and movements flowed to the thought before my mind did. Now I really flushed. What if I hadn't remembered nearly as much of the night before as I thought I did?

The little bits and pieces ran quickly through my mind again: The shot of whiskey, the puking on the floor, and the lying on his bed...

What had I been doing on his bed? Was it possible that I had been.. had he done that?

My hands went back to my butt again and I tried to fell if it was somehow different. Who knew how ones butt normally felt? Then I allowed myself to think it, but I accidentally said it out loud as well.

"Did he fuck me?"

I clapped my hands over my mouth in shock that I had spoken. Pray no one hear that please. I couldn't handle it.

Well did he? I simply didn't know and was not about to ask him. I got to a place in my mind that he must not have or my ass would be sore and maybe the brush burns were from me falling or something. That must be what happened. It was.

I would put that thought behind me, but for now I needed more sleep. My eyes flitted to the clock. Four hours. Yes. I needed more sleep.

I lay down naked under the sheets not wanting to waste time and still being rather run down I quickly drifted off. But in the back of my mind, the part from the lizards that one can't quite control. The question sat.

"Did he fuck me?"

-

When I was 12 years old there was this teacher who was really strict and seemed to have it out for this one boy. Although to be fair the boy pretty much never ever listened in her class and was a general pain in the ass to everyone so maybe she had a reason.

The kid's name was Israel, for real. I guess his parents had a sense of humor or irony at least. Well, Israel had a plan that we would go out to her house at night and get a bunch of toilet paper and throw it all over her trees and then run on out of there kind of as a screw you for all the punishments and what not.

I wasn't really too keen on the idea myself, but I am such a follower that they said, "c'mon," so I went.

We got there and each had a couple rolls and ran through tossing them as high up in the tree as we could and then catching them after the fell to the ground and tossing them up again until the tree was covered with paper. It actually looked pretty cool if you ask me.

We might have gotten away with it too, but guys like Israel always have to go too far.

While the bulk of us were over at the tree, trying to keep quiet and decorating. He goes right up on the porch and starts ripping off chunks of toilet paper and getting them soaking wet and squishing them on to the side of the house.

We didn't even know that all of this was going on until we heard him literally throwing the wet chunks at the wall. He said later that by throwing them they would stick better and be harder to pull off, but naturally the sound of little chunks of wet toilet paper hitting your walls caused Mr. Teacher to come flying out his front door in a rage, trying to figure out just 'what the goddamm hell was going on here'.

That sent us all in flight by the shit luck that seems to follow me sometimes I was one of the guys rounded up.

We went down to the police station where they called my Mom and she took me home.

The feeling of sheer trepidation that I had walking up the stairs to my house knowing that a very angry Father waited inside is as close as I could come to describing what I felt like walking into work that night. The night after the strip club incident as I had catalogued it by now.

I guess I could have just quit the job entirely, but I kept telling myself that it would work out somehow, and not to worry, praying maybe he blacked out or something. I had no idea, however, when I decided to actually go into work that I was going to have this crushing sense of being watched and that people knew what I had done.

The little cameras on the ceiling were all pointed at me. I just KNEW that he was sitting there watching me. Probably running over the whole thing in his mind. It was almost too much to take.

I started diligently getting after my stocking job. Going much faster than I normally did just to get into a rhythm and get past what I thought was going to be this first part and then I could just resume working the way I always had.

The first row was finished quickly and I realized that it was far too soon to move on to another. There was always breaking down the boxes. We had this big machine out back that crushed up our extra boxes and then I guess they got recycled or something. It was a good way to waste some time. Just grab a few boxes go to the back and sit there a while and if someone came by push the button like you'd been doing it all along.

The only downside of doing the boxes was that to get to the machine you went in the back of the store and turned left and to go to Tom's little office you turned right. I didn't think he would see me going back there and I hadn't seen him yet so my hope was that I would be able to slip by unseen and just hang out there for a bit. I was really dreading seeing him.

I got by ok I thought for I saw no one on my way to the back and I proceeded to slowly break down the boxes. Time passed slowly as it always does when you have some menial job and you know how long you have left. It was still a couple hours till break and I had no interest in talking to anyone.

My head was still hurting me a little bit even though most of the cobwebs had gone. Even though I was so trashed the night before, I had actually gone to bed rather early and that was helping, but I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I would like to have another brew.

That gave me another pause. I realized that for the most part every aspect of me getting beer or drinking beer was in some way connected to Tom. I wasn't sure that I wanted to talk to Tom in anyway, but I didn't want to just stop drinking either. I kind of liked my routine of having a few after I got off work and being able to bring some home.

Buying a sixer at the bar made me feel older, more mature but I knew that it was unlikely I could buy it anywhere else but at The Stands. This seems like an odd thing to run over & over your mind for an hour, but you try breaking down boxes with a hangover.

There was still an hour or so until break when I finally saw Tom. The boxes were pretty much finished so I had had to run the damn machine, which brought him out of his office.

He walked around the corner and stood there dressed in his work khakis and white dress shirt. I had sensed him out of the corner of my eye and looked over quick. Now my eyes could have rested anywhere. Look him in the eye, perhaps, or maybe even just not notice. But my eyes had to notice the one thing that stuck out.

I mean really stuck out. Tom was standing there in his dress slacks with his cock hard as a rock in his pants. I could see the outline clearly and it was a few seconds before I pulled my eyes away.

I wanted to kick myself. The whole idea was to try to blow everything off when I saw him. Say I had a blackout, didn't remember a damn thing. Go to the bar and stuff after work, but never ever go to his place again or anything like that.

And what do I do the very first thing? Stare at his dick.

I felt a movement in my own crotch area and turned away quickly so he wouldn't notice.

"Hey man what's up," I said as coolly as I could. "Rough night. I hardly remember a thing. My head is killing me."

I pressed my forehead up against the cool metal of the crusher.

"Yeah you were pretty messed up. Really seemed to enjoy yourself though," Tom said evenly then finished with a question. "You like that, huh?"

I paused my head pressed up against the machine.

"Oh yeah man. Those chicks were hot. Good fun." I said.

"OK, well, hey why don't you drop by the office when you finish up with that," Tom said, turning and leaving me alone.

My mind ran over what he had said. Did that sound ok? I mean he was hard so he probably remembered what happened, but I figured on that. Could I pull off saying I didn't know what he was talking about and just skirt the issue and hope it went away?

I finished up with the boxes pretty quick and resigned myself to heading to his office. Hopefully it would be quick and then I would be out of there and onto break. Then shoot through a couple rows, mop up and jet out of there. I needed a buzz on to get right again.

The back part of the shop that housed the offices was pretty much just a line of small rooms. Each one had a door and next to it a window like six feet wide and then went on to the next door. Tom's office was the farthest one down on the right side.

I passed one after another, lights out for the night and shades drawn. Some doors were papers with work documents; some were just little things from home. One lady's office was just a wall full of crayon art from her young one.

A light streamed out into the hallway from Tom's open door and I noticed that his blinds were drawn. As I got closer I could feel the stirring back in my pants again and I desperately willed it too stop. The last thing I wanted was to telegraph some sort of desire to him.

I went to the entrance, leaning on the doorjamb and Tom motioned to a chair set a few feet off to the side of his desk which was cluttered with papers, not the sign of a tidy man, but not a total slob either.

"Yeah rough night," said Tom as he got up from his desk went to the door and closed it.

He turned his chair to face mine and sat back down.

I made a point of looking him in the face or maybe just over his shoulder at a lithograph of a horse he had on the wall. Anything but looking to see if he was still hard, which I desperately wanted to do.

"You did a good job last night. Was that your first time?" he asked tenting his fingers in front of his face as if pondering some heavy details.

"Good job?" I stammered. "Yes it was the first time I was at a titty bar I told you that before. You think I did a good job tipping the girl?"

Tom smiled serenely.

"No I meant the other thing. You see I have some friends that like that sort of attention from a boy like you once in a while. You really did seem to enjoy yourself."

I tried to get up, but realized that now I was very aroused in my pants and if I had any hope of subterfuge he could not notice that.

"I am sorry. I really don't know what you could be talking about. You see I don't drink that often and all of that liquor I just don't really remember much. What do you mean attention?" My words came out hurriedly in a stream.

"Why when you sucked me off, of course," said Tom with another smile that reminded me eerily of the night before.

Now was the chance for my academy award. My face turned beet red from embarrassment, but I tried to play it off as anger. I don't know why it mattered to me so much. I could have just left, but I needed him to know that I did not remember.

"Now just wait! Stop making things up!" I tried to put as much emphasis on my words as I could without actually being loud, since the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.

Tom paused there, fingers still tented, eying me carefully.

"Ok have it your way," Tom said rising out of his chair.