Houseboy: Saturday

It's Friday right when you're getting out of work, and he calls you.

- Hello, boy. Are you free this weekend?

Be careful, boy. You know it's a trick question. 

- No, Master. 

You're not free. You're never free. This ritual is just a reminder and he likes hearing you say it.

- Good boy. Are you available?

You run a quick check of the things you have to do for the weekend. You would drop everything if he ordered you to, but he likes to keep it balanced: If there is something you can't postpone or cancel, this is the moment when you're allowed to say it. 

You were planning to watch a game with the boys tomorrow night but that choice is not even a question. 

- I'm always available for you, Master. - Your cock gets a bit stiff when you say this. You know what you like and you know what you want. 

- Good. I'll see you in my house, then, as soon as you can come. 

And he ends the call without waiting for you to say goodbye. He already talked and that's what matters. Change of plans, you need to do some stuff. 

You get a message from him with a shopping list, and you also have to buy your own groceries. You take a quick detour to the supermarket and get out an hour later with all you will need for the week and all that Master wants. It's expensive, but he owns your money just like he owns you. He has a right to spend your money any way he wants. Meanwhile, you already called your buddies to say you won't be able to go see the game, no it's not serious but something came up, sorry see you next time, bye.

It's getting late. Laundry will wait til Monday, and you just put your groceries in the fridge, grab a change of clothes and head to his house, hoping he understands. 

You have a key to his house but you would never dare using it uninvited. You belong to him as much as the key or the house, and you only have it for his convenience.

There you are. You park in his yard, grab your bag and enter the house. 

He's waiting for you sitting in the couch and he won't rise. He's just there, sitting in a dim light, looking all powerful and perfect wearing only his skin and waiting for you to arrive and take your place. 

You know what to do.

You take your clothes off and put them in the bag. All of them. You are not allowed clothes there unless he gives you permission. 

And along with the clothes, you take off your mind. You feel how you become  smaller and more subservient to him. Being exposed to him makes you vulnerable, gives away any power you could claim to have and puts you, once more, back in the role of a slave.

You walk to him and stand in front of him. You're both naked, but you're not equal and you know it. It's wrong that he should look up at you, and you slowly kneel in front of him, your eyes down and your cock hard, and wait for him to acknowledge you. 

He takes a sip from his glass and regards you, then holds his hand forward towards you.

- Welcome, boy.

You give him your wallet, your keys and your cellphone, everything you're holding for him to take away. 

- I am here to serve you, Master.

- Good boy. 

His approval feels great deep inside you. You've gone through this ritual before and your mind knows what comes next. Your mind is becoming more submissive, slipping out of control and fragmenting because of his presence. You are already walking down the road of complete enslavement and that part deep inside you that only he knows is shivering with anticipation.

He takes your personal effects from your hands and puts them in a small safe box on the side table and locks it. Then he places the key in a leather collar and leans forward to fasten it around your neck. For as long as you remain in his house, you will have the key to your freedom right on you and it's the only thing you'll wear. Every moment you're there you're given the possibility to take the key, recover your belongings and walk out the door. This is what he wants from you: A constant choice to remain as his slave. You have your freedom right at the reach of your fingertips, and he wants you to reject it every second that you're there.

And then, he makes it easy for you to make the right choice. He grabs your chin and makes you look directly into his eyes and talks to you.

He's speaking to the deepest and truest part of you and he's telling you that he owns you and you belong to him, and you hear it and accept it as truth. It's just words. Words only have the power you want to give them, but when you're with him you want to give them complete power over you. If he calls you his slave, his property, his obedient good boy, then that's what you are because that's what you want to be. Him being your Master and you being his slave is a shared fantasy that only becomes real because, together, you two make it real. So you listen to him, absorbing every word and believing them, and when you do that the words are not just words. 

When he finishes speaking, he leans back in the chair and to your enslaved eyes he looks like a mountain, like a god, like an emperor that rules completely over you. His control and your submission are complete.

You lower your head even more and kiss his feet, and the feelings are so deep and powerful that you can't even name them. Love, lust, submission, obedience, gratitude, respect, fear... there is a spiral of emotions inside you and your will and mind disappear at the center of that vortex, leaving behind a creature that can do only one thing: submit and obey.

When he orders you don't even consciously hear the order, you just know what you have to do. You rise and take his groceries to the kitchen, and you know what to cook and how to cook it, and make a luxurious dinner for him and a very simple one for yourself that you eat while you cook. Then you carry his tray to the living room where he's watching TV, put it in the table and lower yourself on all fours in front of him. 

He has dinner with his legs planted firmly on top of your back, and as always the sole touch of his skin against yours makes you hard. 

He doesn't go to bed with you, because you don't deserve the bed unless he wants you to. He sleeps, and you kneel at the side of the bed with your hands behind your back, just a beautiful decoration for his bedroom.

And then, you lay on his rug on the floor and sleep, right where you belong.

Saturday morning with a whole weekend ahead of you. He wakes up and orders you around, and you make breakfast for him and take it to his bed in the nude and stand by the bedside while he eats, bringing him other stuff every now and then, and take the tray out when he's done.

Then you start your work as a houseboy. 

There is a simple truth when you're at his house: You're here to serve him, and you will do it in any way he wants to. You put his clothes in the washer, take them to the drier, iron and fold them. You wash his dishes and deep clean his kitchen. You sweep and mop and clean and make sure all his house is perfect.  

He leaves while you're in the middle of it, but it doesn't matter. You have work to do and you do it the best you can, the most you can. When he arrives back you already have dinner ready and he takes it in the living room with you standing naked by his side.

And then it comes, the moment he and you have been waiting for all day.

You follow him to the bedroom and he reclines in the bed and opens his legs, showing you his cock, and even without his orders nothing could stop you from reaching and getting it in your mouth.

He looks to you like a vision of perfection, like every single line of his body is absolutely perfect and drives your lust to the maximum. All you want, all you need, is touch him and serve him as his sex slave. His eyes, his face, his chest, all of him is the most tempting person you've ever seen. 

And on top of that, his cock. A massive shaft of meat, already had and waiting for you, so big you always feel you will be unable to take it all in until you do it and it slides inside your mouth where it belongs. Right now you are a slave to that cock. The cock owns you and controls you. That cock is your Master and you are its slave. 

It's almost like the rest of your body doesn't exist, like it's just an extension of your mouth and your mouth exists only to give him pleasure. You know his cock by heart, you know how every part of it responds to your tongue and throat, what are the most sensitive spots and how you have to touch it to make it feel good. 

It keeps getting harder and bigger inside your mouth until you have trouble keeping all of it inside you, but you keep doing it because that's what slaves do. Your Master wants you to suck him and that's the only thing that matters.

He grabs your head and pushes down further, deeper than you're able to go on your own, making you gag on his cock. You could make him stop, but you won't, he's just taking you and you're getting taken and you want it more than nothing.

It's even more clear when he flips you over, straddles your face and starts fucking your mouth. You can do nothing but open up wide and take it as best as you can and be thankful for the few pauses he takes to let you breathe. And yet, right now you need the salty precum in your mouth more than you need air.

He's in no hurry to cum. He's got all night and he plans to use it. He grabs the bed head and levers it to go even faster, more furious, more hungry for your body... he's taking what is his and doing it how he wants.

His cock leaves your mouth and he moves down, down, kissing you furiously and digging his fingers in your back and you let him do it, cooperate actively with his taking of your body, treating yourself as his fuck toy, and you open your legs and show your ass, inviting him to fuck you the way both of you want.

He smiles. He knows exactly what you're thinking.

He knows exactly why you're here: You're here to obey, serve and be fucked, and that's exactly what he's about to do. He puts your legs on his shoulders and looks into your eyes, and gets closer and closer, bending your body and exposing your ass while his face fills your vision, and then he tells you that he's going to fuck you..

The words feel like a punch in the gut, and you sink even deeper in your submission. Your mind is gone, completely overtaken by the awareness of him. There is no longer him having sex with you because there is no longer you, there is just him having sex. He's the only person left in the room. 

He fucks deep and fast, his cock plunging and thrusting. He's feeling wonderful, fucking a tight and warm opening that is always ready for him. He bites wherever he wants to bite and it doesn't matter if he leaves a mark, that's what he wants and that's what he does. He gets his nipples and his chest played with. He has his ear sucked. He grabs body parts, anything he feels like grabbing. He groans as loudly as he wants. He slaps. He demands to be told how great he is, how great his control is, how much of a Master he is. And he gets it.

He changes his rhythm, from fast and rough to slow and deliberate, back to fast, slowing down, taking himself to the edge. How long it lasts? Who knows. As long as he wants. He gets close to climax multiple times and takes himself back because he wants it to last more, until he gets so close to climax there is no way back. 

He picks up his pace, more and more frantic, more and more eager, and then he cums. His entire body is shaking from the intensity of his orgasm while his cock squirts all his cum inside the ass he's fucking. He saved himself a couple days for this moment, and he knows it was worth it.

And then he lays in bed, content and satisfied. He holds closer the hot body he used to get off and pulls the covers, and there is a last kiss in the dark...

...and he sleeps.

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Hi all. This story was intended to cover both days, but it kept getting longer and longer, so I had to split it in two. Stay tuned because there will also be a Sunday part.