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. ;)
This place isn't possible
without support, and many authors like me would have no other outlet to share
stories like these beyond our own selves. Consider dropping a few bucks. http://donate.nifty.org
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 * * *