This story and its characters are fictional and not based on any real people or situations. If you enjoy it, let me know at AuthorMB@protonmail.com. I enjoyed the feedback I got for the last chapter – interesting mix. I look forward to thoughts on this next one, but so that everyone knows: I have a journey in mind for Scott and Adrian, so as much as I welcome your thoughts on what you hope will happen, just know you'll always have to wait and see. ;)

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The House Boy

Part 4

Adrian's first spanking at my hand was a release for both of us. Don't get me wrong; it wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to make a habit of, but at the same time it was an event that brought us both to a new level of understanding. For him, it was proof positive that I wanted him with me, and that I would fill my role as his master to the best of my inexperienced ability. For me, it was a breaking down of the barriers I'd constructed in my head that had cut me off from him ever since we'd first met in the sauna.

We sat there for quite some time afterward, him curled up in my arms...like a little angel. I looked down at him, the soft brown hair parted and his closed eyes blotchy, but his expression serene and peaceful. The erection he'd been sporting while I punished him had wilted, and now he just leaned into me, needing to feel the contact for a while.

I lost track of the time, but it couldn't have been more than about ten or fifteen minutes before I felt him lift up his head, inhaling deeply. He stretched out his legs, obviously no more ashamed of his body now than he had been before, and looked up at me. "What would you like me to do now, Master Scott?"

Good question. After such a cathartic experience, part of me didn't want to go right back into talking. But there were some unfinished – and in some cases, unstarted – conversations between this boy and I, and we weren't going to get any further without having them.

I patted the bed next to me and said, "have a seat here. We need to talk."

He hesitated. "Sir, I—"

"I know, I know," I interrupted. "You're not supposed to sit on the bed with me like an equal. Just humour me for now. That's an order."

There must have been some new confidence in my voice, or else the spanking had changed something else, because he obeyed me without a second's further hesitation or protest, and this time I wasn't left with that vague sense of having done something improper. He sat demurely but poised, his hands on his lap. I thought about telling him to move his hands so I could stare at his privates while we spoke, but there'd be plenty of time for that later, I thought.

"So," I said, suddenly reminding myself of my own father. "Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

Adrian cast his eyes downward with a slight sigh. "I owe you an apology, Master Scott. I didn't explain everything to you the way I should have before I offered myself to you. I'm truly sorry, Sir."

"Apology accepted," I assured him. "If you had, what would you have told me?"

"You know most of it already, Sir," he said, clearly feeling ashamed, but not hesitating or tiptoeing around things like I would have at his age. "I would have told you about the duties I was willing to perform for you, and the rights you would have over me, my time, and my person. Since you're an outsider, I was supposed to tell you other things, too, to help you understand who we are and what we do."

I nodded. "Okay. Is there anything you haven't told me yet?"

"Yes, Sir." He cleared his throat. "I told you that my training wasn't finished, but I didn't tell you why."

"Because you're younger than you're supposed to be," I guessed.

He looked briefly confused, but it cleared quickly. "My dad told you."

"He only told me you weren't of age," I said. "He didn't explain what that meant."

"...Sir?"

"Well, for starters, how old are you? And how old are you supposed to be?"

He nodded his understanding. "I'm fifteen, Sir. I'll come of age on my next birthday."

Fifteen? That threw me off a little. He looked younger than that. My guess had been fourteen, but that was on the upper end.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he said, "I know I look younger, Sir. There's a reason for that."

"There is?"

"Yes, Sir. You see, house boys are supposed to be boys. When we reach puberty, we begin growing hair in new places, we smell different. Our penis and testes get larger, our voices deepen. Our emotions become more volatile...aggressive. These are not acceptable qualities for our masters or households."

I frowned. "I can understand the emotional volatility thing, but your bodies...?"

Adrian explained, reciting as if from a textbook he'd memorized. "Hair on the body interferes with a master's touch, and can be tugged from the body, which would be unacceptable while maintaining a clean and hygienic household, or when preparing meals. Our smell should always be pleasing to our masters every bit as much as our appearance. A deep voice and large genitals may be intimidating to a master, and a house boy must never cause his master to feel that he must compete for dominance over his own household."

"Okay, I get it." I looked his body over, several new questions rising to the surface. "So that tells me why, but not how."

"Well...my dad tells me that years ago, house boys were always eunuchs." I saw his legs involuntarily shift closer together. "But these days there are other ways. Most house boys, like me, get a..." He scrunched up his face slightly to remember the words. "...a hormone-blocking implant. I got mine when I was twelve, and it gets replaced every year." He brought his finger to a small scar on his arm, showing me.

"Wow." I thought about that. "So, there are—wait, there are doctors who...?"

"Who know? Yes, Sir." He brought his hand back down, politely clasping the other. "My doctor is really nice. One of my friends just started as his house boy last year."

This whole thing went way farther than I thought, and I wasn't sure how happy I was knowing what I'd just learned. "So, you'll be getting those implants for, what, the rest of your life?"

"Not necessarily, Sir. At least until I'm old enough for me and my master to...decide. Probably my eighteenth birthday."

"Decide what?"

He looked at me. "A few things, Sir. First, decide whether I will stay his house boy as I grow older. Some masters do that, but some prefer to take on new ones as theirs, um...get older." He was trying to hide it, but I could hear in his voice how much he hoped that wouldn't happen to him. "After that, it depends on what was chosen. If I stay with my master, we decide together if we'll allow my body to develop into manhood. If so, you—I mean, my master," he amended with a slight blush, "decides if there will be requirements such as shaving body hair, or not."

I cleared my throat a little. "What happens if you and your master decide, um...not to let your body develop? You'd keep getting your implant replaced?"

"That's right, Sir."

"What about your dad?" I asked, thinking of the deep, strong voice I'd heard on the phone.

"His master wanted him to grow into a man," Adrian explained. "He was promised early, and this was before they had implants like mine, anyway. He shaves his body for his new master."

"New master?" I repeated. "What happened to his old one?"

"He died," Adrian replied, with no hint of emotion whatsoever. "Dad served him for almost 20 years. His daughter is my mom."

"Oh!" I was a bit surprised by that. "So your mom knows about...all this? When you said they didn't live together, I thought..."

He nodded. "I understand. I apologize for not explaining, Sir. My dad lives with his new master, and when I'm training—which is most of the time—I live there too so I can learn by seeing and doing. Since he has a wife and family, he has one day every week to spend with Mom. But Master Charles is nice. He usually gives Dad more time than that."

"Okay. Wow." I really was only just beginning to grasp the complexity of the phenomenon I was getting into. I found myself wanting to shift the conversation back to Adrian. "So, a house boy comes of age at sixteen? Why sixteen?"

"The age changes from place to place, Sir, depending on how old someone can legally drop out of school. Of course, house boys are always homeschooled," he added, "but a master usually doesn't want the responsibility of a house boy's education."

"Does that mean there wasn't always a, uh...a `coming of age' point?"

"There was, Sir, but it was younger. Twelve, I think."

"Okay." I shifted on the bed to face Adrian, leaning on my knee. "But you were allowed to come serve me early."

Adrian's chest swelled a little bit, as if talking about this part made him proud. "I'm gifted, Sir. I've been doing work above my grade level for as long as I can remember. My dad said I'd have no trouble proving I've been legally educated."

So I wouldn't need to worry about his schooling, I thought. That was a relief. "But you did say you weren't quite finished your training, didn't you?"

He cast his eyes downward again. "That's true, Sir. Mostly one area in particular."

"What area is that?"

He glanced up at me for a moment, and then down again, as if ashamed. "Intimate services, Sir."

"Right...which still means..."

"Sex, Sir. I haven't completed that part of my training."

I hesitated a moment, then put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Adrian, I'm not going to make you do anything you're not comfortable—"

"No. I'm comfortable." He shook his head vehemently, bringing his eyes up to mine again. "I want to serve you in any way you want or need, Master Scott. I don't want you to think I can't—or, I couldn't..." He bit his lip, looking down again. "I want to be complete for you."

I couldn't help but smile. He was just so adorable. "Adrian, as far as I'm concerned, you'd be `complete' no matter what. You don't need to be intimate with me to prove it."

"But what if you want it, Sir? Or need it?"

I shrugged. "I'm sure there have been other house boys in your shoes. Or...well, your situation. What usually happens?"

"My dad said that, with your approval, I could go home once a week to continue with him. Or he can give me lessons by phone to practice here, in private, when you don't need me. But..." I saw his penis twitch slightly; he made no effort to hide it. "The best way, Sir, would be for you to teach me."

I felt my face redden, and my own dick—which hadn't gone completely soft from our session earlier—was now rock-hard again. I coughed. "I, uh...I'm not sure I'm qualified. I wouldn't know the first thing about house boy training."

"Respectfully, Sir," he said, looking up at me again, "since you're my master, you're the best person to show me how to satisfy you."

"But don't you have, uh—" I grasped for the right words a little. "Like, a program, or...specific things you're supposed to...?"

He nodded earnestly. "Yes, Sir, but that's to prepare a house boy for any master he might have. When a boy is promised to a master early, he's taught according to what that master likes, wants, and needs."

"I see." I swallowed. "And...what did you learn so far? In the—in your training?"

He turned from me and stared into space for a second, as if going through the list in his head. "I completed kissing, tongue pleasure, cuddles and affection, masturbation of a master, and most of erotic massage. I had several lessons on oral sex on the penis and anus, and two sessions on bondage. I haven't started anal sex yet."

The detached, matter-of-fact way he spoke about such things almost made me jealous, and definitely deepened the redness of my cheeks. "Wow," I said. "That's...that's a lot."

His twinkling eyes found mine again. "If you'd like, Sir, I can demonstrate what I've learned for you."

I wanted to say yes. Dear God, did I want to say yes. The word had a hard time finding its way out from between my lips. I took a breath, and I thought about what Andrew had said to me earlier. If you want something, please don't deny yourself. There will be nobody to judge you.

My throat felt dry, so I swallowed again. "Yes," I managed hoarsely. "Yes, I'd...I'd like that."

"Of course, Master Scott." He turned over, resting on his knees on the bed, facing me. "Please make yourself comfortable."

"Uh, all right." I glanced around myself, and then shifted backwards on the bed, propping a pillow behind me so I was leaning comfortably against the headboard. By this point my cock was straining to be let out of my jeans, but I left my hands resting on my belly. One step at a time.

Adrian crawled up the bed, so that he was kneeling beside me. "What would you like me to show you first, Master?"

I tried to sound more confident than I felt. It was really odd, I reflected, that I was ten years older than he was but probably a lot less experienced. "Let's start with kissing. But, uh...I want you to talk to me while you show me. Tell me what you learned and then, um...show it to me. Okay?"

I kind of expected him to laugh at me, but he didn't. He dipped his head respectfully and said, "of course, Sir. May I straddle you?" I nodded yes, and he calmly proceeded to lift his leg over my hips, which briefly brought his flawless, stiffening package within a foot of my face. I started to sweat a little.

Once in position, he rested his palms on my chest. "We started with the peck, Sir. We learned that it is our master's right, not ours, to ask for a peck, and that it can be a sign of affection and obedience. Dad said some masters like to roleplay, such as fathers and sons for example, so they'll ask their boy to `give Daddy a kiss' from time to time." He pursed his lips slightly. "I have your permission, Sir?"

"Y-yes."

He let out a soft breath, and then it was as if he let his `house boy' self fall away for a moment. He half-closed his eyes and a slight, airy smile appeared on his lips as he leaned in to delicately press them to mine. He didn't linger, just deposited a soft kiss on my lips, applying just the right amount of pressure before pulling away, resuming his neutral, docile expression. "May I continue, Sir?" he asked.

Holy fuck. This training was no joke. I took a cleansing breath and nodded.

"Okay." He brushed some hair behind his ear. "The next thing I learned was kissing with tongue. Dad told me, like any kissing, my master should initiate, but if I know that he likes it when we're being intimate, it may be appropriate from time to time for me to do it. May I show you, Sir?"

"You know what?" I licked my lips slightly; they were dry. "No more asking permission. Just...tell me, then show me."

"As you wish, Master." This time his hands slipped up to my neck and wrapped around it before he leaned in again, and I closed my eyes this time as I felt his lips press against mine. His mouth parted, and I followed suit, letting him gently explore with his tongue. He didn't open too wide or too little...just right, matching me. I felt my hands move to his sides, sliding up along his back. His tongue was cautious at first, tentative, but as I relaxed and let myself deepen the kiss, his tongue grew bolder, exploring mine and my mouth eagerly. But the kiss stayed gentle, and tender.

He presently broke the kiss, but left his hands around my neck. I was breathing more heavily, and left my hands right where they were, resting on his lower back, just above his beautiful cheeks.

"We learn a lot about kissing, Sir," Adrian said. "I'd like to show you one more: the kiss reserved for lovemaking. This is what we do to show our passion and need for our master, so that he understands how we long for him when we're intimate together."

Obediently, he didn't ask permission this time. He dove right in, bringing our faces back together, this time with gusto. I could feel the difference right away. This wasn't the calm, playful kiss of a moment ago. This was desperation and craving. His breath hissed in and out of his nose as he pressed himself to me, not just his mouth but his entire body, grinding against my loins and taking my face in his hands. I was lost in the bliss of it, wrapping my arms around him and holding him tightly. He felt so small and delicate in my arms, and I felt a sudden, powerful desire to protect him, to wrap him up and keep him safe from the world.

However long passed, it felt too soon when he lifted his lips from mine again. We were both panting this time, and I could feel the hard length of his penis pressing against my abdomen. I couldn't resist looking down, taking in the beauty of this boy in full heat. His shaft couldn't have been longer than three inches, and it looked like the most perfect three inches in the world.

"Was that satisfactory, Master Scott?" I tore my eyes upward and met his, and I saw longing in them—longing for me, for more, maybe. But beyond that, a need for approval.

I nodded. "It was amazing."

He looked very briefly away, blushing slightly. "Thank you, Sir. What would you like me to show you next?"

I went back over the list in my head. "Tell me about tongue pleasure," I said.

"Yes, Sir." He ran his hands gently down my front and said, "I think I can give you a better demonstration if I help you remove your shirt. May I?"

I pursed my lips, sighing slightly. This perfect, godly vision of boyhood sitting on me, and he was asking me to reveal my big, hairy gut. I felt like a cave troll next to him.

He noticed, of course. "Is something wrong, Master?"

It was my turn to cast my eyes downward, and I shrugged. "I don't think I'm as attractive as I used to be, Adrian."

He looked confused. "But you're my master," he said, as if that answered everything.

"I know," I said, "and I know you'd probably like having a master who's...fit. Without the extra pounds."

"No, I mean...Sir, you're my master. You're my master." He tilted his head. "To me, there's nobody more perfect than you. You're my everything."

I looked up at his eyes again. "That's what it means, being a master?"

He rubbed my chest gently. "Of course, Sir. I belong to you. How could I not want you?"

The simple, unburdened truth in his words hit me hard enough that I stopped trembling. "Okay," I whispered.

His gentle, curious hands found the bottom of my shirt and began to lift up. I leaned forward a little to make it easier, lifting up my arms until he had pulled the shirt over my head. I expected to feel self-conscious, as my rounder-than-average gut and my pecs, plump enough to almost count as man-boobs, sat there for him to see.

But I didn't. I looked in his eyes and I saw nothing but absolute desire, carefully concealed behind the house boy mask but still aching to be freed. He looked like he wanted to speak, but dared not without permission, so I said, "go on, Adrian. Say what you're thinking."

He swallowed, then said, "I've wanted to see this again since we were in the sauna together, Sir. I think...I think you look incredible." He looked away and bit his lip, blushing a little harder. "I shouldn't say that. It's not my place."

I reached out to his cheek, turning his face back to me. "Tell me about tongue pleasure," I said.

I could see him shift back into his house boy comfort zone, giving me a brief look of gratitude before he settled back on his haunches. "A house boy should use his tongue and teeth in intimate moments, as invited, on any part of the body that will bring his master the most pleasure. Dad says it'll take me time to learn where those places are, but he also said there are few joys as pure as finding them and seeing that pleasure on a master for the first time."

I smiled a little. "That does sound fun."

He nodded, lifting his hands to push both sides of his hair behind his ears, and for the first time I saw his face, clear, unobstructed by his hair. I realized in that moment that I could swiftly fall in love with this boy, and right then, I wouldn't have minded. "I learned lots of things about using my tongue, Sir, but it would take time to explain all of the techniques. May I—?"

"Yes," I said right away, cutting off the question. "Of course you may."

He gifted me a slight smile. "Thank you, Master." He then descended downward, bringing his mouth to my neck. I felt an immediate sizzle of pleasure emanating from that spot, causing me to shiver all over. It wasn't long before he found the most sensitive spot on my neck, just beneath my ear, and his tongue worked its magic, sometimes flicking softly across my skin, sometimes lingering and sliding, tantalizingly slow. Here and there he nibbled, teased, and I felt my leg spasm once or twice as he triggered bursts of erotic pleasure.

He didn't stay on my neck. His mouth travelled, kissing, sucking, licking, nibbling. He went upward, up to and behind my ear, back down the other side, then along my collarbone. He went to my shoulder, my bicep, my forearms, even my fingers. He nosed his way under my arms, back up to the top of my chest.

Then he went down the middle, and across to my right nipple, and he lingered there for a while, longer than he had anywhere else. I remember thinking right then that there was something about that spot, the way he stayed, focused, for a while. I also remember that I was in ecstasy for every moment of it and felt a little sad when it ended. It was very subtle, like he'd snapped out of a trance or something, the way he shifted quickly away, continuing his ministrations along my body.

I didn't have much time to think about it, because the way he worshipped my belly made the last of my insecurities vanish. He explored almost all of it with his tongue and lips, as if drunk on it. He travelled right down to the waist of my jeans and back up, along the slightly thicker hair of my treasure trail, up to my navel and around, and by the time he was done I was squirming and shifting, letting out little moans and whines.

It was clear as he sat up that he'd enjoyed himself, along with the noises I'd been making, but he maintained his poker face and relaxed on me as I calmed down, slowing my breathing. "That's..." I tried to find the words. "That was...very, very good."

"Thank you, Master." I saw his eyes flick downward, just for an instant. "Is there anything else I can demonstrate for you?"

I thought about my shower earlier, the fantasy that had played out in my head: Adrian's eyes staring adoringly up at me as his hand worked my cock. I was about to cross that bridge, I realized, and I didn't have a single regret about it. "Show me...masturbation of a master," I told him, quoting the phrase he'd used. "And this time, tell me as you're showing me."

A hint of a playful, knowing smile flickered across Adrian's face for a moment. "Yes, Sir," he said quietly. I tried not to tremble, but I couldn't remember ever being this aroused in my life.

True to his word, Adrian narrated what he was doing, move by move. Every word he spoke, his hands echoed on me.

"When pleasuring a master's cock with the hands, a house boy should be patient. When not given a direct instruction, a boy should take his time, rub his master's manhood through the fabric of his clothing...gently. He should feel his master's hardness, become acquainted with its size, its contours." My penis strained against my jeans under his hand. "This heightens the anticipation for the master, but the boy should be careful not to tease. He should move soon to unfasten his master's clothing, repeating the rubbing and touching through the underwear.

"If a boy has done well, there may be a little leak of precum by this point—" I gasped aloud as his finger found the damp patch at the tip of my cock. "—and if so, the boy will know his master is ready. He should reveal the prize, take it gently in his hand—" I let out a little moan. "—and begin slowly. If the master is extremely aroused, release may not take long, but a boy shouldn't rush to it. He should pace his strokes so as to provide nice, consistent stimulation, but still guide his master's cock on a journey to orgasm."

I was on a journey, all right. His hand was so soft, my cock slick with precum, and it was all I could do not to thrust upward into his fist. "As a boy feels his master getting close to climax, his strokes should pick up speed, and he should begin to aim his master's cock carefully, anticipating the release." Adrian shifted himself off my legs, his strokes never missing a beat, and I was so close to the finish line I could barely take it. My moans were beyond my control, and I couldn't stop squirming.

When Adrian straddled me again, he was facing my feet, and I had the best view in the world, looking at the tender globes of his bum, still red from their time under my hand. He had to speak up to be heard over the noises I was making. "When you make your master cum, you should always ensure that you are the target. Unless he requests it, your master should never need to clean cum from his own body." He glanced over his shoulder. "Are you ready, Master Scott?"

"YES-S-S," I moaned.

It was all he needed to hear. Without saying it out loud, I suddenly felt one of his hands encircling my balls, tugging gently downward and pushing me over the edge.

"A-aaaah! Oh, God!" I twitched and convulsed as I shot line after line, directly at Adrian's naked torso, the barrier between me and the most mind-blowing orgasm I had ever felt. His hand slowed, but didn't stop, expertly milking the last of my cum from my wilting dick, and I could feel his hand resting on my pubes, catching the final drops in his upturned palm.

I was panting heavily as he turned himself around, and I swear I went right back to half-mast at the sight of his stomach, chest, and neck covered in the eruption he'd just coaxed from me. He wore his usual polite poker face, with a slight glint of mischief in his eyes. "Dad says I should always ask my master before I taste him." He looked at his palm and the little puddle of semen in it, and then at me. "Master Scott...may I taste you?"

I was almost beyond words right that second, but somehow I found it in me to say, "y-yes."

"Thank you, Sir." With a few long, thorough strokes of his tongue, he lapped up the cum from his hand, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savouring it, before I saw him swallow.

I smiled at him slightly, still panting, as his eyes reopened. "Well, h-house boy? How...how does your master...taste?"

He considered the question for a second. "Permission to speak freely?"

"G-granted."

That playful almost-smile again. "I could eat this every day, Sir."

I grinned, my breathing finally slowing down. "Tell you what. Go to the bathroom to clean yourself up, and if you don't drip, you can have all the rest I left on you."

He couldn't resist biting his lip a little bit. I liked it. "Y-yes, Sir. Thank you."

"Go on."

He carefully dismounted from me, and from the bed, and disappeared through the bedroom door, careful not to lose a single drop of my cum from its place on his torso. I watched him go, either unable or unwilling to move. My cock, with my underwear bunched up beneath my balls, lay against my pubic area, completely spent.

I'd expected to feel some sort of post-nut clarity here, maybe be suddenly ashamed of what I'd just done, but...I didn't. I knew I'd think about that repeatedly for the next little while, but right then, it didn't seem to matter too much.

I flopped my head back onto my pillow, staring up at the ceiling, topless, with my dick out. I didn't have a care in the world.

* * * To Be Continued * * *