The Agreement

A Boss and His Boy Story

I wake early, heart racing. The dream that woke me fading into incoherent oblivion as I suddenly remember exactly where I am. In a cage at the foot of some guy’s bed. The gloom of the moments before dawn shade the room and the low light muddies specific details of the furniture and colours. The room is quiet. There are no sounds of activity throughout the rest of the house. Either the occupants are still sleeping or I’m alone.

My limbs are heavy with exhaustion. I can barely move them, but I crawl to the end of the cage to open the door. It doesn’t budge. Cold anxiety trickles through me. Hoping that the cage is just closed and not locked, I fumble around with my hand through the bars of the cage on the roof, seeking the latch or lock. After a few awkward seconds, I realise it’s useless and my urgent panic increases. I frantically push on the door again and become more desperate when each attempt is as futile as the last.

A knot threatens to close my throat as hot tears form and trickle down my cheeks. I hyperventilate, my vision darkening as I whimper, my head spinning. I need to get out of here. Now. In the dim light ahead of me, something shifts. I scurry to the back of the cage, hugging my knees to my chest and freeze, my already racing shallow breath increases in speed. From where I am, in the brightening room, I can just make out his feet and lower legs as he lounges back in a leather armchair across from me. How long has he been sitting there waiting for me to wake up?

“Boy, you’re hyperventilating. If you don’t deliberately slow your breath and consciously exhale, you will pass out.” A low, velvety baritone.

I scramble my hands over the bars in a frenzy, trying to find a way out.

“Boy, stop. Listen to me, breathe out slowly and deliberately. Do it now.”

He hasn’t raised his voice. There’s no urgency in his tone, just a calm, measured confidence that is slightly hypnotic. Following his directions, I stop and slow my breath.

“Good boy, slower, exhale longer, slow it down, that’s it. Good, just like that.”

As his words of praise and encouragement fall over me, I feel my light-headedness ease, my heart rate slowing. My racing mind calming with it, allowing me to collect my thoughts.

“Good. It’s ok boy, you’re having a perfectly natural reaction, it’s expected. Everyone goes through this. I’ve got you. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

I’m finding it difficult to focus on his reassurance completely. “Let me out. Let me out, now. NOW!” I hear my thin voice rise pathetically as the panic rapidly returns and threatens to swamp me.

“Shh, calm, breathe. It’s ok boy, I’m going to let you out, but not until you’re calm. Can you do that for me, boy? Shh, just breathe, listen to my voice, focus on your breath, breathe, be calm. Shhhh.”

I don’t know how he’s doing it, but when I simply listen to his smooth voice and follow his instructions, I can feel myself backing away from the edge of hysteria. The assertive reassurance of his confident presence is so warm that I desire to melt into it.

He waits in steady silence as I slow everything down, and after a few more moments of me calming myself, he shifts, leaning forward in his seat and looking at me through the bars. “Come here, boy.” I slowly creep forward. He’s wrapped in a white towel, bare chested, his hair still wet from a recent shower.

It’s now that I realise the slight fragrance in the room is coming from him. I've probably used the same soap. He smells so fresh and ordinary, and it adds to his ability to reassure me. I take a quick moment to assess him, his broad muscular chest and arms covered in soft dark hair, his neatly trimmed beard. A calmness exudes from him. His face is commanding and kind, patient and confident. He looks like there is no situation he couldn’t handle. He’s a leader. The sort of man that men instinctively trust and defer to. In a towel.

He sits back, crossing one ankle over the thigh near the knee, and I glimpse the head of his cock under the towel. A burst of memory, his cock thrusting inside me, rouses confused desire through my body. My throat and pussy ache for its return and a warmth grows through my loins. The flustered awkwardness of my reaction at even the briefest glimpse of his cock causes my face to flush. I swallow hard and reluctantly look away.

“Look at me, boy.” The slightest of smiles is the only evidence that he saw my reaction, and I suspect that he deliberately positioned himself so that he would get that exact response from me.

I lift my gaze to look into his eyes. As he locks them onto me, I’m momentarily unable to find adequate words to describe what they do to me. How they make me feel, or why my heart lurches in my chest. They’re soft and flinty. Both frightening and firmly reassuring. Potentially cruel, yet also kind, patient and compassionate. Distantly friendly, they are warm, deep pools of mystery and adventure. My heart races again, now no longer with fear, but with excitement, anticipation and trepidation.

“I understand that right now it’s hard for you to trust me boy, why should you? Believe me when I say to you, I’m not here to hurt you. I don’t want to harm you or abuse you. I am not your enemy. Quite the opposite, in fact. You have something that I want, something I’ve been looking for, and you’re going to give it to me. In return, I will unlock the deepest recesses of what hides inside you, the potential and promise that you guard so heavily, the secret that you firmly believe no one sees. I see it, boy, I see it clearly, and you are going to give it to me. I can see that you want to give it to me. To put it simply, boy, I want to set you free.”

The incredulous look that sweeps over my face has to be priceless. The pure absurd irony of his words settles in the silence. This cunt, I’m literally captive to him in a cage. I can’t help but let out a bitter snort as I turn my head slowly away. “Fuck you.”

“Ahh, there he is. There’s my boy. And yes, boy, you will.” He smirks, the light of challenge brimming in those inscrutable eyes.

My head snaps back to look at him as I throw the words at his feet. “No seriously, go fuck yourself, you cunt. I’m not giving you shit. Fucking let me out of here.”

“Boss,” he says.

“What?” He keeps throwing me off balance.

“Fucking let me out of here, Boss.”

It’s incredibly subtle, but his face has hardened. He hasn’t raised his voice, yet there’s a controlled iciness in his tone that has me momentarily hesitating. A threat is in the air. As I reflect, I realise I haven’t seen him lose control once. He’s always in charge of himself, his situation and others. It’s disconcerting and alluring. A deep instinctive urge to give in to him rises within me. As I ponder the possibility of surrendering to him, my incredibly powerful sense of self rises and I hear:

“You are not my fucking Boss. I am not your boy, your slut, or your fucking property. Let me out of here. Now.”

He sighs as he stands and undoes his towel, momentarily standing completely naked in front of me, his large thick cock so firmly erect that the head nearly brushes his belly button. A silky drip of pre-cum descends toward the floor, glistening in the light. He rearranges his towel to cover himself and slowly lowers his arms by his side.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, my boy. You seem to have forgotten so quickly. I said to you yesterday, and I’ll give you the mercy of repeating myself this one time, we can do this nice or we can do this nasty. It’s entirely up to you, slut, your choice.”

“I can either break you into a million pieces and painstakingly reform you into my obedient and willing faggot slave, the operative word there being ‘pain’, or you can choose to remember where you belong and who you belong to. You will take your place by my side as my slut, my toy and my property, willingly giving to me, yielding to me what has always been mine. My boy. One way is cruel, the other is kind. One way you are a mere object to be used, the other you are a cherished possession owned by a protective, caring Master.”

“I’m disappointed at how quickly you seem to have forgotten your vow to me, slut. Now, I will return in two hours. You have that long to consider what I’ve said, boy. I have given you a choice. So choose.”

Panic and regret swiftly replace the growing distress of hearing his disappointment in me as he turns and strides out of the door.

“Wait! No! I’m sorry. Boss, please come back. No, please, don’t leave me in here. Boss. Please. No, no, I’m sorry. Boss! Please!” I sob as the door softly closes.

I cry, frustrated, for a few minutes in the dawn light infusing the room, slowly composing myself. I try to think but my mind is so full. The memory of that incredibly hard cock and drip of pre-cum descending toward the floor making it impossible to concentrate.

***

After about fifteen minutes, any hope I had that he would relent and return fades. My overwhelming exhaustion overtakes my panic, and I lay on my side numbly staring into the distance.

My mind inevitably drifts to the events of the day before. Reflecting on the choices and powerful desires that had led to me even being in the park. The grip of his hand constricting my throat. Manhandling and wrangling me with calm strength. The exquisite sensation of multiple men using me, relentlessly fucking me into submission with their gloriously hard cocks. How all three of them treated me exactly as they desired, getting their fill from me. Being their eager and willing boy quenching their masculine thirst.

The look of pride and happiness in Boss’s eyes, those incredible, beautiful eyes. The delicious praise that dripped with low, throaty desire as I gave him what he wanted. What I wanted. Such a good boy. My cock stiffens in the cool air as I reminisce, aching to feel the touch of Boss’s strong broad hands, yearning for some resistance to thrust against. A screen flicks on.

There, in high definition on a 75 inch screen, is a replay of what was just in my mind. I am instantly transfixed and unable to look away in horrified fascination. His uncanny ability to know my thoughts and desires simultaneously arouses and alarms me.

The footage taken from Box-Cutter’s and 2nd’s phones as they fucked me over and over in a heated frenzy, replays. Their moans of pure ecstatic pleasure as my hole hungrily gave them their frantic, frustrated release. The way my pussy gaped achingly for their thrusts and thick throbbing members.

What I thought I was hiding so well, is right there in intimate detail on the screen. My face, awash with bliss as I grind back, shimmying my hips with animal lust. Grunting and panting. I can’t escape the truth. I was there looking for action and when I got more than I could have ever dreamed of, the slut in me fully embraced and enjoyed every second, lapped up every exquisite moment.

The half-hearted protests, the incredibly weak attempts to resist.

The pure, open joy on my face as Boss clips the collar around my neck, the collar I’m still wearing. I shift uncomfortably as I see the eager, desperate surrender and hear myself scandalously giving him my submission, giving myself over to him. Begging him to own me, to be inside me, to make me his. Thanking him. Affirming that I’m his slut, his toy, his property.

I watch the lube and cum, infused with piss dripping down from my gaping cunt as I finally surrender to Boss’s fist inside me. My gaze entranced as I watch myself become an eager whore, inevitably succumbing to my deep need for a proper Master.

After all of that, the extreme tenderness and care with which Boss scooped me up to bring me home. Crooning to me about his beautiful boy. How proud he is of me. Letting me know he will take care of me. He will protect me and not allow any harm to come to me. My head resting deliriously happy against him.

A tear rolls down my face and my breath catches in my throat as I hear his tender care, the words of pride and encouragement that I couldn’t comprehend in my state of bliss and delirium the day before. Then the screen goes dark.

The inescapable reality of who I am crashes home. Is this truly who I am, what I am? It can’t be. As I lay on my back in the silence, I find my answer in my body’s reaction to the video and the brutal way they treated me. My incredibly hard twitching cock and pre-cum oozing all over my lightly furred stomach whispers to me exactly what I’m too afraid to admit to myself.

A prideful, stubborn resistance rears up against this revelation. A scared, hunted desperation, frantically working to deny it, to reject it. No! No. He took me. I was confused. I will NOT surrender to him. As I pause, my emotion quickly betrays me, and I feel the desire to surrender to him returning. It’s so strong in me I can visualize myself kneeling before him.

Deep inside, no longer hidden, is a desperation to allow his domination and ownership of me. The idea of becoming his cherished possession fills me with longing and pride. That he would even want to own me, that he would choose me, causes a deep aching longing within me. Yet the streak of resistance refuses to give in. I softly cry again as I struggle to reconcile the internal conflict. On the one hand, I want to be owned by this incredible man, but I cannot easily break the conditioning of fierce independence.

***

It’s uncertain how long I had been wrestling with my nature when I notice the uncomfortable fullness of my bladder. The pressure of holding it in as I wait for him to return is already at a level of thought piercing discomfort. Having noticed my need, it rapidly intensifies.

I close my eyes, wincing as I take hold of my cock. Perhaps if I squeeze hard enough, it will help. It does briefly, but the insistence of the pain and pressure in my bladder overwhelms even that momentary relief. I cross my legs, squeezing and pushing down on my cock, but it’s no use. I can feel that I’m going to lose control at any moment.

My breath is now coming in ragged gasps, gritting my teeth as I fight hopelessly to hold it in. I have to release. It’s impossible. I can’t hold it another second. Deeply ashamed and humiliated at my inability to maintain control over my body, I feel it, slowly at first, trickling out of me. There’s no chance of stopping it now as the trickle transforms into a steady stream. It feels superb, so I let it flow unabated. A moan escapes at the sweet release. It’s almost orgasmic. My back arches as I sink into it like a filthy animal.

On my hands and knees, a demented grin spreads over my face as I watch my hot piss spill out of the base of the cage and onto the surrounding, immaculately polished wooden floor. Fuck him, this is his fault. He left me in here too long. If he wants a fucking animal, then he can have one. In a savage moment of misplaced revenge, I cock my leg, as if I were a dog, eyes closed, and drift into the pure unadulterated pleasure of releasing my bladder. The perverse joy at the thought of my piss streaming out of the cage all over his precious fucking floor, the acrid smell of it and the sound of the steady stream splashing on the wood, elicits a throaty chuckle.

My eyes snap open as a hand grabs my collar and wrenches me out of the cage. I was so lost in the moment I didn’t hear him come back in. With an ease that takes my breath away, he drags me across the floor. His powerful hands pressing on the back of my neck, he forces my face into the still growing puddle of my filth.

His tone is chilling, so measured that it leaves me without a doubt about his displeasure. He doesn’t need to yell. I can tell through his restrained self control that I’ve made a grave mistake.

“Filthy little slut. You think you can piss on my floor and not face consequences? You’re going to clean it up, every single drop.”

“This is your fault, cunt. You left me in here. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Don’t blame me for your stupid fucking mistakes, arsehole.”

I pant as I struggle desperately to keep my face out of the pool of piss. I regret the open defiance in my voice and wish I could have chosen a softer tone, but it’s just not in my nature.

“That’s 20 more.” He says in that measured voice that somehow terrifies and arouses me at the same time.

“Twenty more what, fuckhead?” I snarl. I hear the words escape, and take a delicious satisfaction in them even as I know they’re just making things worse for me.

“Strikes to your punishment. For blaming me for your own disgusting and disrespectful behaviour.” A wry smile twisting his lips. “Now with your tongue, slut, lap it up.”

A wave of horror convulses through me as I recognise exactly what he expects me to do. Realising far too late that I was already way past the point of return, “Boss, please no. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up, I will, but please, just not like that. Please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s too late now, slut, to try respect and regret boy, I saw your face as you cocked your leg. You were in glee, pissing on my floor. This disgraceful rebellious streak of yours needs desperate correction. As your Master, I would not be doing my job if I didn’t correct this. It would be a deep failure and mistake on my part to allow you to continue down this destructive path. I will not allow this flaw to remain in my property, boy.”

The impact of his booted foot coming down on my cheek sends a jolt of pain through me, causing me to wince. The unmistakable scent of grass and earth fill my nostrils, contrasting with the pristine cleanliness of his work boots. He firmly pins my head, holding me down in my piss, leaving me with no way to avoid it. Looking up out of the corner of my eye, I can see the unrelenting resolve on his face.

Bending over, he looks me in the eye. “Well, what are you waiting for, slut? Get to it.”

I take a few more moments to contemplate the pure humiliating horror of what it is I’m expected to do. His boot presses more firmly on my cheek in impatience.

Slowly, I extend my tongue towards the offensive pool of piss, bracing myself for the repugnant taste. Because of slight dehydration, the ammonia smell is so strong that it sears my nostrils. The acrid taste of an entire night of concentrated piss that has been stewing in my bladder is something I am completely unprepared for, and I gag involuntarily.

“Every drop slut.”

Reluctantly, I continue to lap at my piss, my nose wrinkling as I gag against the taste.

“Good boy, keep going. That’s it, you’re being such a good boy.”

Even in my moment of absolutely degrading humiliation, hearing the praise I’d been craving since yesterday reinvigorates my deep desire to please him. I hungrily lap up as much of the acrid piss as I can, his boot releasing enough to allow me to move a little so I can get more up with each pass.

“Mmm, good boy.”

I hear a zipping sound and crane my head the best I can to look up at him. Just in time to see his cock flop out of his pants. I see the golden stream descend toward me, microseconds before it hits me in the face. His piss splashes into my eye and my eyes sting closed as I gasp. The stream enters my mouth. In stark contrast to the unpleasant taste of my urine, his has a surprisingly delicious, almost sweet taste. A moment of debased shock as I extend my tongue to catch as much of his piss as I can.

“That’s it, boy, drink your Boss’s piss like a good boy. You are mine now, boy, my property.”

As he pisses all over my face, I’m knocked into deep submissive arousal as I hear him claim me once again, drenching my hair, his golden stream trickling into my open mouth. In that moment, as I hear the pure pleasure purring through his voice and his desire to claim me fully, I can think of nothing but pleasing him, my straining cock aching to please him.

“Thank you, Boss, for your gift of piss, for correcting me. Thank you for owning me. Please forgive my disrespect Boss, allow me to serve you, please allow me to atone for my mistakes. Thank you, Boss, for caring so deeply about your slut.”

“Good boy. I’m glad to hear you finally accepting your place and giving me the proper respect that I deserve, but you’re not finished.” He softly growls and releases his boot from my face.

Eagerly, I spring to my hands and knees and lap at the piss on the floor. Knowing that he’s patiently watching over me in my moment of shame spurs me to do better for him as I eagerly work to lap up the mess I’d created. His patient presence softens the bitter taste. The smell of him on me, claiming me as I work, is incredible, and I slip back into ecstatic delirium.

After what could easily be 20 minutes, I hear him again. “Ok boy, that’s enough for now. Stand up. That’s quite a mess you made.”

I struggle to stand, having been in the cage all night. Exhausted limbs refuse to cooperate at first. My knees simply don’t want to straighten.

“Stand in the corner until you are dry.”

I hobble over to the nearest corner and stand as still as I can, somehow knowing that to falter now would bring me disgrace after having worked so hard, and I don’t want to reflect poorly on my Master after his loving and patient correction.

He leaves the room. I stand confused, unsure what to do, but he returns after a few minutes with a mop and bucket, mopping up the piss I had left behind. Now deeply ashamed at my behaviour, I step forward to offer to clean up the mess that I had made.

“I didn’t say move, boy.”

 I step back into the corner and bow my head, “I’m sorry Boss,” and this time I actually mean it, not to get what I want or to get out of this situation, but because true remorse has risen as I take in the inconvenience that I have caused him. All trace of defiance and ill will toward him has evaporated.

“So, have you made your choice, boy?”

Without hesitation, “I’ll never be a slave.” I see him stiffen. “Boss,” I quickly add and I see him ease back into his work. “Fair enough boy, so I guess…” I quickly interrupt him “but I… I don’t know.” The idea of serving him sounds so seductive, but is it really that simple? I’m so headstrong and wilful that I can’t really imagine being subservient to anyone.

“Let me stop you there, boy. I understand the conflict you’re experiencing, far better than you imagine. Boy, you aren’t the first of your type and you definitely won’t be the last. So many men travel through life knowing something is wrong. They don’t fit properly. No matter what they do, they’re never quite fulfilled. They pursue the life they’re told they’re supposed to want, only to find it doesn’t work for them. Society will have them believe that they’re supposed to be a leader, a ‘man’, but they’re not leaders and they know it, they’re adrift, and they don’t know how or where to anchor themselves. They struggle against their nature. That’s where you are at right now. You don’t know the answer and you don’t know how to find it, but you know things aren’t right. I am your answer, boy. I have found you. It’s time to rest. You can stop searching and struggling.”

I open my mouth to protest but he continues, “The truth that you’re struggling to accept is that I am now your Master. I have already claimed you as mine. You know that you deeply desire to be mine. Over the last 24 hours, I’ve shown you where you belong and what will fulfil you. You belong at the side of a Master, serving him, becoming his perfect boy and making him proud to have you. You will be a man who selflessly caters to the needs and desires of others, tirelessly fulfilling their every desire. It’s something you know that you’ve already felt. It feels right, and it’s what you need. You have already offered yourself twice now, but you’re afraid of what it means and where it leads, and you’re looking for a way out. Together, under my loving guidance, care, protection, and ownership, we can release you from your struggle.”

As I listen to him speak, the truth of what he’s saying settles deep inside me. Leading is definitely not my strong suit. I don’t even desire to lead. I truly want to surrender to him, I can feel that serving him is right, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s not that simple, and he certainly doesn’t realise the difficult monster he’s about to take ownership of, that he’s convinced that he wants for himself.

“One week. At the end of one week, if either of us decides you aren’t fit to be my boy, then we part ways. But understand, my boy, you won’t have this opportunity again. Do you agree to one week?”

I have a moment of foreboding. Conveniently, I have a week. Needing to know where I stand, I settle on testing him. “Could I leave now?”

 I see him consider that for a good few breaths, then he steps to the side. “There’s the door. You’re free to leave. Understand, boy, I want you. You’ve already decided that you will not be a slave and I respect your decision, but I still want you to be my boy. I want you to choose to be my boy, to choose to stand by my side. You’re free to leave if that’s truly what you wish. I will respect your decision with no repercussion.”

Damn it. He’s called my bluff. He senses the victory and quickly moves to fill the silence. “So you agree to be my boy, without reservation, for one week?” Before I even form a thought, the words fall from my lips. “Yes, Boss.”

“Good. Now boy, twice you’ve offered yourself and twice you’ve tried to weasel out of it. I will not accept a third violation of your vow to me. If you attempt it again, our agreement will be over and you will not enjoy the consequences of that. You are my boy, I own you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Rule one, you will always address me as Boss, or sometimes Master. You will always offer me the respect that my position as Master and owner of you deserves. If you do not do so, I will punish you in a way that I choose. Do you understand?”

His mention of punishment momentarily has me looking to the door, but then I remember the commitment I have made and sink to my knees, kneeling before him. “Yes, Boss.” 

A thrill of pleasure courses through me as I notice the flicker of surprise travel across his face when I knelt before him.

“Rule two, you will always seek my permission to piss. From this day forward, you do not take a leak without my express permission. Failure to do so will cause punishment.”

I bow my head, this time not in subservience, but to conceal the grin. “Yes Boss,” hoping he can’t hear the amusement in my voice.

“Rule three, you will always serve me with full enthusiasm and commitment. You will not bitch or moan about what I require or request from you, no matter how difficult it may seem. Failure to meet my high standards again will cause punishment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Repeat them to me.”

“I will always address you as Boss or Master, Boss. When I need to piss, I will seek your permission, Boss. I will serve you with full commitment and enthusiasm and do everything I can to meet your high standards, Boss.” As I repeat his rules, I hope he catches the enthusiasm and commitment in my voice.

“Good boy, you learn quickly. Make sure you keep me happy and we may yet reform this useless, pathetic slut before me into a boy worthy of my attention.”

“Boy, your body belongs to me. It is now my body. Your cock, your pussy and your mouth’s sole purpose in life is to please me, to be pleasing to me, and to bring me pleasure. Do you understand?”

I feel my cock stir at the anticipation of serving him. “Yes Boss, I understand. This cock, mouth and pussy now belong to you. Their sole purpose is to please and pleasure you, Boss.”

“Good boy. You’re such a good boy. There will be more rules, and for the moment, you have no rights or privileges. You will need to earn them through your attentive and good behaviour. Now stand and come here. It’s time for your punishment.”

I gulp and stand. It’s going to be a long week.