Sub encounter: Plumber

My grandmother had left me a tidy sum. It wasn’t life changing, but it allowed me to put down a deposit on a one bedroom, in a nice part of town. I planned to rent it out, but quickly found in a falling rental market, I needed to spend money to clean it up.

The bathroom was a priority.

As I waited for the plumber to arrive, I surveyed the small space, looking for other fixes. I’d have to get rid of the tired furniture, left by previous tenants. Thank God it was just a couch, an old dining room table and a pair of kitchen chairs.

* * *

I’d used the plumbing company for years. Back in the beginning, it was just a guy and a van. Carl was honestly one of the most attractive men I had ever met, genuinely gorgeous, with a straight, boy next door attitude. When I’d needed a plumber, I always enjoyed having him around as eye candy, even if it was costing me $110 an hour.

Over the years, Carl had grown the business to the point where he now had eight vans roaming the suburbs. He didn’t venture out of the office much now days, and assigned my jobs to his crew.

Three weeks ago, I’d had Scott at the house fixing a slow gas leak. He was nice to look at, and I enjoyed watching him labour in the back yard. I had no idea who would be attending the flat today.

* * *

When Steve called, I buzzed him up and waited with the door wedged open. He arrived with a kit bag of tools and a box of spare parts. He was actually pretty cute, especially in his tightish, short shorts. Very nice. I was glad I decided to actually meet him here, rather than just leave a key.

I explained what I wanted, and decided to get out of the way, time was costing me money. I had just ordered a coffee downstairs, when he called me. The new wash basin I had pre-ordered wasn’t going to fit. Fuck!

As I made my way back up in the lift, I was seriously pissed. I’d wanted to pre-order, so I didn’t have to deal with delays. Now I had the makings of a serious delivery impact.

When I re-entered the flat, I was surprised at how warm the place was. The sun was streaming in the lounge window and generating heat. Maybe I’d need air-cond?

“I’m going to get my arse kicked about this.” I said as Steve gestured to the ill-fitting installation.

“From the retailer?” he asked, confused.

“No, my Boss.” I replied. He tilted his head, still not making any connections. “I’m sure you know what it’s like, you’ve got a Misses haven’t you?” I added, smiling. He finally understood what I meant, but he didn’t smile.

Maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend?

* * *

We sat close at the small table, and on my tablet, went through possible wash basin alternatives. I could feel his body heat as we reviewed the options. When we found one that worked, I called the store and confirmed I’d collect within the hour. I left Steve to finish the other more minor tasks.

When I returned, the flat was marginally warmer than it had been when I left. Steve emerged from the bathroom, now shirtless. I guessed the place was even hotter when you were working.

We manhandled the vanity unit into place, and just like that, the new basin fitted like it had always been there. It was much less painful than I had been fearing. I watched on as each piece was skilfully installed.

With everything in place, we needed to wait for the PVC glue to cure. Then we’d do a final leak test. We sat for lunch, opposite each other, again at the table.

“How long have you been plumbing?” I asked, looking to engage, and fishing for his age.

“Eleven years,” he replied, surprising me. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. I started when I was just 15, fuck. I’m 26 now!” he continued shaking his head. He wasn’t as self-assured as was my first impression. Maybe even a little timid?

As he finished the last of his sandwich, I took in his lip ring. Barely the size of a dime, and black in colour, it was his only evidence of jewellery. I decided to see where I could take the conversation.

“How long have you had the lip ring?” I asked. He involuntarily licked it, as he answered.

“A few years, I got it at the same time as I got my thigh tat.” I looked down towards his upper leg, now having a valid reason to be looking closely at his crutch.

“Some of my friends have them,” I offered, extending the topic. “Nipple bars too.”

“Is your lip the only place you have metal?” I quizzed.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“When I was your age, and in party mode, two of my friends got cock rings.” I added, as his eyes widened slightly.

“Cock rings?” he asked, not really as a question. “One of the guys at football has one.”

“My friends wanted me to join in, but I never did.” I informed. “You thinking of getting one?” I probed, beginning my push, and not really giving him time to respond. “The problem with cock rings is they’re so tricky to get right.”

“Tricky? How?” he asked.

“I’ll show you, stand over here,” I said as I stood and pointed to the floor near the centre of the carpeted lounge. He was a little surprised by my movement, and directive, but he stood as instructed.

“Shuck your gear.” I ordered. He froze, not really computing what I’d said.

“Do it!” I said more firmly. He sprung to action, albeit unsurely.

He kicked off his tan scuffed work boots and pressed his shorts to the ground. As he prepared to step out of them, I crossed my arms loosely.

“All of it.” I added, so there was no confusion. “Leave your socks, when you’re done, put your boots back on.”

He moved slowly but with constant speed. He didn’t make eye contact. When he’s slipped on his last boot, he stood, not sure of what next.

“Good, keep your back straight.” I said, as he lengthened his frame. “Feet a little wider apart,” I said as I nudged his left foot across a tad. “Good, good. Hands straight by your side.” He moved to comply, as I stepped behind him and physically squared his shoulders. I lowered my hands. “Tilt your pelvis forward,” I directed as I placed a hand on each hip and rotated. “That’s it, good work.”

I moved to his front and shifted his head level. “Now, focus a soft gaze on the wall over here.” I said, as I stepped to the corner of the room and pointed to a place around head height. “You don’t have to concentrate, but your eyes don’t move, and you don’t make eye contact. Got it?” he nodded.

“This is ‘Display’ position. It’s not ‘Attention’, but you stand exactly like this when a man tells you to ‘assume display’. Understand?” I asked, again in command mode.

“Yes.” He replied.

“Yes what?” I fired back quickly.

“Yes Sir.” He said, more firmly, starting to get with the program.

He had a nice tight body, not an ounce of fat from head to toe.

“Right, let’s see what we’re dealing with.” I said, as I directed my gaze towards his junk. His cock was about three and a half inches and curved over his smaller, but proportional balls. He wasn’t totally undersized, but a little below what I would have expected for his 5’10” frame.

I decided I’d shame him anyway.

“You haven’t got much to work with down here, have you boy?” I observed, I watched as he swallowed.

“No sir,” he replied, quieter than before. It betrayed what he believed of his size.

I took his meat between my thumb and forefinger, deciding to take a risk. He tensed slightly, but he didn’t move, or break his gaze with the wall. “Does it get much bigger when you’re hard?”

“Yes sir,” he assured, “some.” His dick, started to lengthen.

“You ever had sex with a woman?”

“Yes sir,” he confirmed with confidence.

“How many different women?”

“Three.” He said, losing some of his swagger.

“How many times you had sex?”

“Ten.” He replied, telling the truth.

“You had sex with a man?”

“No sir.”

“Thought about it?”

“Not really.” I believed him.

“And, yet you’re standing here naked, with a guy holding your dick.”

“Yes sir.”

“What do you think about that?”

“I’m not sure.”

“But, you can feel yourself getting hard, and not pulling away.”

“Yes sir,” he said after a pause, “I’m not sure why.”

“I think,” I began. “As a boy, with a little boy dick, you like a man telling you what to do?”

“Maybe sir.”

“Do you want me to stop? Or would you like to learn some other display stances?”

“Please show me, sir.” He asked, again after some extended contemplation.

I released his dick, which was puffed to about 50%. I stepped back.

“This is standard display stance.” I confirmed, gesturing up and down his frame. “A man may use this to ‘display’ you to another man, or to physically or visually inspect your body.” I rubbed my palm down his pecks to his abs.

“Whatever, you get the point.”

“Yes sir.”

“Ok, forward, on your knees.” He knelt. “Knees wider, feet together, under your arse.” He moved. “Good, good. Again, no focussed eye contact, that’s it.” I moved behind him.

“This is Kneel Display.” I reached down to his chest and took his nipples in loose grips. “Men will use this stance to play with a boy. To get head, or just to make sure the boy knows his place. You follow?” I asked as I again returned to his front.

“Yes sir.”

I gently nudged his junk with my foot. He tensed, but didn’t shift.

“Even little junk is easy to see when a boy spreads his knees wide. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, now lastly, on all fours.” He moved forward to comply. “That’s it, keep your knees wide.”

I reached behind him and took his entire junk in a firm, but not cruel grip. I knelt down on one knee to put my head near his ear.

“This is all fours, or doggy.” He nodded. “Do you think I’ve got utter control of you boy?”

“Yes sir, yes sir.” He declared, full of nervousness.

“When I’ve got hold of you like this, I own your whole body.” I firmed my grip a little to make my point. “Not a lot you can do about it.”

“No sir, no sir. I understand.”

I released him and stood.

“On your feet boy.” He raised himself to stand, breathing deep in relief.

“Do you have cable ties with you?”

“No sir, but I have them in the van.”

“Good, put your shorts on and get me half a dozen, and something to cut them with.”

“Yes sir,” he said, as he bent to drag on his shorts and briefs.

“Just your shorts boy.” He froze, computed, then did as told. He realised he’d be taking the lift down to his van in the street, commando in short shorts!

He departed.

When he returned six minutes later, he lightly wrapped on the door.

“Slide your shorts under the door boy.” Silence. Then movement as the first wisps of fabric began to emerge to my side. With a degree of difficulty, I pulled them under, then waited. Another light tap. When I eventually opened, he rushed in as I stood aside.

He was red as a beet.

“Why are you red boy?” I asked.

“I’m embarrassed, I had to go down in the lift. Then anyone could have seen me out there.” He nodded towards the front door. I nodded back in agreement.

“True, but were you physically at risk? Harmed?” I asked as he stood still, considering.

“No.” he answered quietly.

“But a man told you to do something. And, you did it.” I paused. “Do you think that as a boy you should do everything a man tells you?” Quieter.

“Yes sir.” He said meekly.

“I don’t think so.” I said, surprising him. “You’re not owned, you’re a boy.

An unskilled guy could put you at risk, you need to think about shit like that. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

* * *

“Do you want to continue this, experience?” I asked

“Yes sir.” He replied keenly.

“OK, cable ties?” I asked, as he handed a small plastic packet to me. “Stand up on the two chairs, legs as wide as you can.” He did, giving me head height, unrestricted access to his package.

“I know your dick doesn’t take up much space, but hold it out of the way.” I directed. Lightly layering his humiliation.

As he positioned himself, I gently zipped a cable tie around his nuts. When I had it to the point where he wouldn’t be able to get a nut through its tightish loop, I stood back and took the sight in. Satisfied, I clipped the tie, preserving the size of the loop. I slipped it in my pocket.

“Kneel.” I directed firmly as I stepped clear. He got down to his knees as before. When he was in place, I stood behind him and took his nipples back into my grip.

“I suggest you get a bar in each of these.” I tweaked his chest. “But, that’s up to you.”

“Yes sir.”

“Also, you need to lose all this body hair. Boys have nothing below here.” I said as I held his chin.

“Yes sir.” He acknowledged.

“Ok, on your back.” He looked at me with a degree of confusion, but laid down. “Pump your little boy meat, until you blow.” He didn’t know what to do.

“Think about the fact a man has humiliated you all morning, and how hot that is for you.” He got to work.

I quietly pulled my phone from my pocket and started recording. When he was too far gone to stop, I moved closer and openly recorded him jacking off. He was mortified, but didn’t slow. He blew by the table spoon full.

* * *

When he had calmed, I patted the seat for him to join me at the table.

“What did you think of all that?” I asked gently.

He took his time.

“Not what I’d expected for a routine bathroom job.” He replied, with a coy half smile, “Exciting, scary maybe.”

“You did well, being true to yourself.” I suggested. “Not many boys handle themselves that smoothly, unless they’re ready for it.”

“Umm,” he started, “You’re not going to put that video on the internet, are you?” he asked.

“You’re not going to give me a reason to,” I answered, “so, no.”

“Am I your boy?” he asked.

“No,” I answered drawing breath. “You are a boy, but not my boy.” He nodded, contemplating. “I’m not collecting boys, but if you want to learn more about your place, we could work on that.” He smiled.

“You have lots to think, and learn about.” I said, as I stood, motioning for him to stand, “you don’t sit, if I’m standing.” I corrected.

He nodded.

“In the next few days, you’ll probably be a little angry at yourself, maybe confused. All that’s ok.

If you let it pass, you’ll be jacking off to the memory of this morning, more than being stressed about it.

Also, I wouldn’t share this experience with your friends, I doubt they’ll understand.” He carefully nodded.

“You can dress.” I said, giving permission.

I watched as he pulled his shirt down over his still wet abs.

“Wear that shirt all week.” I directed. “Smell yourself, and think of me. It will make your little dick hard.” He put his head down.

“Is my dick really that small?” he asked, wanting reassurance.

“Yes. You’ve got a great body, good definition and a nice build, but yes, you have a little boy dick.” He grimaced. “There’s no shame, it matches who you are inside.”

I motioned to his tools and let him struggle to carry everything, as we made our way down to the street.

“Thank you, sir,” he said as he closed the back of his van.

“Good boy.” I said as I reached out and scuffed his hair.

Going our separate ways, I had no expectations, but it would be interesting to see if anything developed. I smiled as I realised, I hadn’t actually explained why cock rings were tricky. Maybe a topic for another time?