House boi Training 101

"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?"