Boots

On Sunday night, as expected my folded washing appeared as it had done last week. Apparently his full Saturday hadn’t interrupted his laundry schedule. I was pleased with his commitment to the task.

As I kicked back to watch the wrap up of the weekend’s football I reflected on the situation. His clipped head and nude pubes had knocked his confidence around enough for him to be using his fist for relief rather than random hook ups. The phone video of him jacking off, and public collar shaming should seal the deal to keep him servicing me for the next while. I wondered where now?

By the time next weekend rolled around I was in possession of a key and the freshly laundered rags he’d worn all day the previous Saturday. Life was relaxed, I was confident I had my domestic services well in hand. My boots came back perfect every morning and my work clothes had never been so well cared for. I thought about extending the task by getting him to come over and clean the house. I just wasn’t sure I wanted him in my life to that degree.

As the weeks flew by I realised I was actually getting horny. I worked out it had been months since I had emptied my balls into someone else. In a twist of fate, I received a text message the next day from Robyn letting me know she was going to be in town the coming weekend, and was free on Saturday night, if I was looking for a fuck. Like I had to think about it! Robyn was the most wild and uninhibited fuck buddy I had, I never missed the opportunity for sex when she flew in every half year.

As Friday arrived and I prepared for the pub, I reflected that if I was going to collect Robyn from the airport, the truck could do with a wash. As I passed fag’s unit to drop off my weekly laundry, I took the opportunity to address the problem. Using the key provided I made my way in to fag’s lounge, not bothering to ring the bell. I found him in front of the TV and although surprised by my sudden entrance, he didn’t say anything, he merely got to his feet.

He was halfway through eating his dinner on the couch, topless and barefoot in board shorts. I dumped the basket to my left with my muddy boots resting on top.

“Lose them” I directed, nodding to his pants. He immediately complied ripping apart the Velcro waist band. He was commando and utterly hairless, “good job, turn around and spread them”. His back door was just as smooth.

“Glad to see you took me seriously”, he half smiled accepting the praise. I walked to what I knew was his bedroom and took a look around. As I re-emerged he had remained in place, “Can you drive stick?” I asked. He nodded in the affirmative, surprised by the disconnectedness of the question. I tossed him the truck keys.

“I need it back by eleven tomorrow, inside and out”, he was shocked. I simply left.

As I bummed around the house the next morning, I was more than firm in thinking about my impending session with Robyn. I hadn’t bothered with anything beyond trunks since my later than average shower. At 10.30 there was a light knock on the door. I found fag in a water splashed tee and tight cut-off jeans, he had my boots in one hand and keys in the other. I simply turned and went back to my coffee. He came in and placed my steel caps to the left of the entrance as I nodded to the table for the keys. He came forward and respectfully placed them.

“Any problems?” I asked.

“No Si…” he replied cutting himself off after I corrected him last week.

“No collar?”

“Sorry” he replied, suddenly flustered. I didn’t add anything and it rapidly became an awkward silence. He turned to exit. As he got to the door and made his way out I simply added, “Thanks fag, see you later”. He froze still not sure how to acknowledge the situation. In the end, he gave a small smile as he backed out of the door.

The truck came up as well as any fifteen-year-old vehicle could, he had done a good job. As a means of transport it had the odd dent here and there, but for its age it wasn’t in bad shape. Although Robyn was a high flyer I think she enjoyed ‘roughing it’ with unskilled professions from time to time, the truck just enriched her ‘down town’ experience.

Robyn and I had a great meal at a 'middle of the road' restaurant but by nine were ready for sack time. I pulled up in my drive, then taking her by the arm, walked directly to fag’s place.

“Have you moved?” she asked.

“No, this is just something a little different” I replied, deliberately stirring her curiosity. I placed the key to the lock and let us in. Fag was astonished at our arrival. We had interrupted him watching TV in the dimly lit lounge. He jumped up from the couch but had no idea what to do next.

“And who’s this?” asked Robyn extending her hand expecting that he was going to introduce himself. I cut in before anyone said anything.

“This is fag” I replied pushing her hand down to her side, “he doesn’t speak, or touch. Fag, we’re going to fuck, get us two red wines”. I gently took a confused Robyn into the adjoining space and proceeded to strip to my trunks. While I turned on the bedside lamps I realised she was frozen. I motioned for her to undress and in the meantime jumped horizontally on the low double bed, hot in anticipation.

“What do you mean, doesn’t speak?” she quizzed.

“I don’t let him talk freely” I replied, as my servant made his way unsure into the room. “Ah” I said as I took the glasses from him and placed one on the bedside table. I held onto the other and began sipping, encouraging her to speed up undressing at the same time. Fag initially stood near the end of the bed before turning to make an exit.

“No, no, stay” I instructed, as he stopped in his tracks and half turned back, “you’ll be watching” I informed. “Hang on” Robyn said, “who’s this guy?”

“This is my man servant, this is his place but we can do what we want”

“You pay him?”

“No, he does what I tell him because he worships straight guys and knows I’m his superior, that and if he doesn’t, I’ll plaster his naked butt all over the internet”.

“How delicious”, my fuck partner mused, “what will he do?”

“Anything I tell him”

“Anything?” she repeated unconvinced.

“Get your gear off fag, put your collar on”, he left the room and re-entered a few minutes later with his silver collar in place but clearly uncomfortable and statue like. I simply motioned towards his clothing. He rolled his eyes in dread and with effort stripped to his boxers. I paused and held his stare. He panicked slightly before quickly removing the last remaining item of fabric.

“Hands on your head, legs apart”, I instructed with enough authority to let him know I was done being jerked around. He instantly complied a foot from the end of the bed     

“He’s actually quite hung isn’t he?”, Observed my mate, “how come he doesn’t have any hair”.

“He’s not allowed hair” I added.

“Oh my god, you mean he really does everything you tell him”,

“Yep”

“What if you told him to fuck me” she asked, starting to get into it.

“I could, but in truth, I doubt he could actually get it up, no matter what you offered”, I replied. “Could you get it up?” I asked him. He shook his head ‘no’.

“He can’t speak?” Robyn asked.

“He can, I’m just not interested in anything he might have to say”.

“Wow” she added again lowly before reaching out and gently taking the end of his cock. Fag went as red as he could. He remained absolutely flaccid. “Such a waste, guess I’ll just have to make do with this one over here” she said, dropping fag and reaching for my rock hard appendage. We got straight to it and fucked like rabbits. Fag remained in place as instructed for the entire time.