Handy Handy Men

Chris: A Boy’s POV

(Supplemental by request) 

As the alarm screamed six am, I’d already been awake. Even on the weekends, I woke at five to six. A by-product of my seven am. workdays.

I kicked off the bedding, and made my way to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I took in my naked frame. I think I’d stopped growing. Dad always claimed he added half an inch at twenty, but I figured I was fully cooked, a year before his supposed final growth spurt.

I hadn’t seen my old man in almost half a decade. One day in my fourteenth year, he just didn’t come home. He and mum had been at each other’s throats forever, I guessed he’d had enough of family responsibilities. He bunked, didn’t look back, certainly didn’t seem to give a fuck about me or my younger brother. I wanted to hate him, outwardly did. Inwardly, I missed his authoritarian streak, but I was never going to admit it.

“Chris, are you up?” mom called from downstairs. “Want breakfast?”

“Yes, and yes,” I replied, loud enough for her to hear.

I pulled on my uniform shorts, as I scouted for my branded polo.

The new owner actually supplied us with work gear!

When I was first told, I could hardly believe it. In the three years I’d been there, work hadn’t supplied a cracker. I hitched the top button, again realizing this brand was ‘form fitting’. I admired my package in the mirror. Mom called again.

* * *

“Your new uniform looks smart,” admired mom, for the tenth time. “It looks like the new owner might care about his workers.” She continued.

“Well it’s only been a few months, but he seems Ok.” I said as I sat at the table.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“His first name is Simon,” I answered, “not sure of his surname, I think its Baxter?”

“And, he has owned Handy Man businesses before?” she quizzed.

I shrugged, no idea.

“Well free uniforms are a good start, even if they’re too tight.” She offered.

I self-consciously looked down.

“They’re not that tight,” I defended, “and the boots are top shelf,”

“That’s bullshit,” she grinned, “I know my son is circumcised, I don’t need to see it through his work shorts!” she laughed out loud to herself. I was sure I was blushing.

“Anyway, clothes don’t matter, you need to keep working hard,” she advised, suddenly turning serious as she put my breakfast down. “If you do well, you could go places.”

“Mom,” I responded, “I’m already the 2IC Ops manager, Jarrod thinks I’m doing a good job.” I assured, “I’ve only been off the road for five months!”

* * *

As I rolled into work, the warehouse was already a buzz, every Monday the same. I double timed it to the office.

“Hey,” I greeted Jarrod, as he spoke in to the phone. He nodded, pointing to the roster board.

Alex stood with Carl at his side.

“I thought we were going to be a Whites?” Alex questioned, as soon as I appeared.

“Nah, that got bumped, you guys are with Josh, out at Westen’s.”

“Mr. muscles himself,” quipped Carl, smiling, “have you seen him in his new polo?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“He looks like he’s been stung by a hive of bees!” he responded, “fucken allergic reaction all over, he’s swelled up bad!” he laughed.

We all grinned.

The rest of the day, was equally busy.

I’d wanted to get to know Simon a bit more, but it just never got quiet enough.

Over lunch, I looked at the new business cards, everyone on-road now carried. Like the uniforms, it made us look like full professionals.

“You like the cards?” Simon asked, appearing in the lunchroom as I finished.

“Yes Boss, they look good,” I paused, “I’ll just get back,”

“Sit,” he said, gesturing back to the chair.

My hair stood on end. Did he mean that the way it sounded?”

“Let’s talk,” he continued lightly, “haven’t had much of a chance to get to know my Ops team,”

I swallowed, maybe it wasn’t how it sounded? Why the fuck was I making wood?

* * *

“Where’s Boss?” I asked Jarrod a week later, as I came up from organising the morning loads.

“Out doing his one-on-ones,”

“It looks like he’s going to do that with everyone,” I suggested.

Jarrod nodded.

“That’s his plan,” he replied, “he’s sitting with me on Thursday, you on Friday.”

“When I’m at Clef-rights?” I asked, nervous.

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” he quizzed, detecting unease.

“It’s a green-house, hot as fuck!”

“Um, you know that’s what green-houses are for?”

“Yeah, I know. But fuck, it’s a shitty place to be watched!”

“He’s not fucken ‘watching’ you, you dumb fuck! He’s making sure you know him, and he knows you!”

“You’re counting inventory, it’s not that hard,” he finished.

Half an hour into the count at the Clef-right facility, I couldn’t take it any longer. I hadn’t wanted to be bare chested if the boss appeared, but it was way too hot. I stripped the polo and resumed.

Ten minutes later Boss arrived. I was sweating a bucket.

Even my short shorts, were wet with perspiration.

“It’s fucken hot in here!” he declared, as soon as he stepped into the cavernous glass room.

I just nodded, by way of a greeting.

“You have to count that?” he pointed to the top deck of the racking.

“Yeah, not our normal sort of job, but we’ve been doing it for years.” I furnished. “I do it, so we don’t have to drag a guy from the road.”

“I saw that, it’s what makes it a good earner,” he paused, looking from one end to the other.

Fuck, the guy was thorough, our old boss wouldn’t have had a clue.

“Show me the manifest,” he asked, as I passed him the clipboard, bulldog clip at the top. He scanned it. “It’s arranged this end, to that?” he pointed to the far end of the row.

“Yeah, so I don’t miss anything.” I responded, as he unclipped the bottom two sheets.

“Ok, I’ll start at the other end, and work back.”

Holy fuck! He was actually going to count!

“Getting out of this fucken gear though!” he declared, as he lifted his polo over his head.

Boss was jacked! Not fully, but tidy, and no fat. He had to be forty!

Then he pulled his boots off and stepped out of his own shorts. He looked directly at me.

“You need to be down here boy,” he said, commanding. Oh fuck.

I stepped down.

“Lose your shorts,” he instructed, as he stepped back into his boots. He was going to work in his briefs! I couldn’t fucken believe it! Oh my god, I was throwing wood again.

“Too fucken hot in here for anything else,” he declared, then stood waiting.

“Boss, I’m only wearing a sports jock,” I revealed. He didn’t waver, still expectant.

Following his lead, I stepped out of one boot, then the other, casting my shorts aside.

“I’d say that’s an undersized jock,” he observed.

I don’t think I'd ever been redder.

He laughed.

“Trouble with nineteen-year-olds,” he giggled, “they’re hard all the time, and they can’t compute that every other guy older than them, has been nineteen before.”

He walked to the end of the row, and began checking off inventory.

When I eventually resumed counting, I realised I was a hell of a lot cooler.

It turned out, having my bare arse open to the wind was a lot more comfortable.

* * *

With two of us, the Clef-rights job was done and dusted in good time.

“Let’s get some lunch,” Boss said, as he made for the exit, “you grab the kit, I’ll grab our clothes.”

Before I knew it, he was gone.

I stacked the count sheets, stowed the laptop, and packed the portable printer. Finally ready, I made my way out to the car park.

As soon as the metal door clanged behind me. I looked up to see Boss talking with old man Clef, and three of his workers. All about my age. They at least had shorts on, if only that. I found myself standing before them, in nothing but my undersized jock, and steel-caps.

“You know Chris of course,” Boss waving towards me.

How had he managed to dress?

“Yes, good to see you Chris.” He said, “glad you feel so comfortable here. That room is so fucken hot this time of year.” He nodded towards the greenhouse, “good initiative, in the heat control department,” he said grinning, as he looked me up and down.

I didn’t know what to say, and my clothes weren’t in sight.

“Any issues with the count?” he asked, serious.

“Not majorly, Sir,” I answered. “Just missing a box a ZX23 cartridges.”

That caused him instant pause.

“That’s not good,” he replied, knowing his inventory codes, and the value of the missing cartridges.

“Dale, take this stuff,” he said, pointing to my armful of gear.

“Carlo, run Chris down to Store Eleven,”

“Go with him, it’s a mess down there,” he said to me directly, “but you know what you’re looking for.”

I nodded, he wasn’t going to entertain a delay.

“Carlo, give the boy a hand, I don’t want this stock-take logged without that box.”

Carlo nodded, and stepped across the four wheel motor bike, he had clearly arrived on. He scooted forward, waiting for me to sit behind.

This was all bullshit! Why couldn’t I take a minute to get my shorts?

* * *

Thirty seconds later, we zoomed around the side of the greenhouse, heading for the Store. I looked ahead, to see a decline steeper than I expected.

Carlo brought the machine to a halt.

“Sir, please hang on,” he said, his English a little broken. Obviously his second language.

He waited, as I looked around for something to hold.

Finally, when he realised I had no idea, he took one of my arms and pulled it around his bare chest. Then he took my other, and pulled it across from the other side.

My chest now firmly held against his bare back.

“Sir, please hold tight, Mr. Clef will beat me if you fall.”

Beat him! What the fuck?

Despite the sweat quickly building up between us, I did hold on.

When we arrived at Store Eleven, Clef had been right. It was a complete mess.

I didn’t even have my phone to show Carlo, a picture of the box.

I started in the area that looked most used. Then worked out, in wider and wider rings.

Twenty minutes into the search, we were both covered in a thick layer of dust, grime and cobwebs.

Carlo kept holding up boxes for me to judge, so far, no luck.

How did anyone find anything in this place?

Carlo pointed to the shelving above. It was worth a look, but I had no idea how to get up there.

He interlaced his fingers, forming a bridge to step up.

That might work a few times, but with his body build the same as mine, it was going to be unsustainable.

I took off a boot and stepped into his hands. When I looked over the front edge, there was a box.

We could be on to something?

I looked to pull myself up a little, so I could at least see if there was writing on the side. Dust rained down on me and by default, my lifter. As I took some weight, Carlo released a hand, and did his best to support me with his shoulder. Suddenly my underside jock pouch, was now pressed against his left ear. I started to harden.

Desperate to wrap this mess up, I reached for the box and managed to catch its top edge, as I pulled, it flipped to its side, and I confirmed it was what we were looking for. I just couldn’t bring it any closer.

At that point, Carlo was having difficulty in holding my weight, I could feel both of us going down.

I quickly held on to a roof truss, as Carlo dropped away completely, falling into a stack of cartons to his right, upending them all.

I was now at least five foot off the rubbish laden ground, with no place safe to drop only wearing socks.

I could hold, but not for more than a few minutes, if I released one hand, even less.

* * *

Carlo appeared below me.

“Sorry Sir, I could not hold,” he apologised.

“No problem, I’ve found the box,” I assured, “can you just hold me for a few more seconds?”

“Yes Sir,” he replied, then smiled, “I see me holding you has made you excited,” he observed, looking directly at my semi rigid dick.

“Um, yes, sorry,” my turn to apologise. I could feel myself blushing.

He reached up, and felt the front of my jock. Instantly, my cock poked its head out the top. He brushed it with his dusty finger tips.

“So beautiful,” he said to himself.

“Um, Carlo, do you think you can hold me up, while I get this box and get this over with?”

He looked up, hand still caressing me. I was well on the way to being full throttle.

“I can hold you Sir,” he replied to my relief, “but we will play when you come down?”

“Um, can we skip that?” I asked, my arms starting to ache, badly.

“We play when you come down, yes?”

Oh my god!

My arms started a serious protest, I was coming down one way, or another.

“Yes, yes we can play!” I relented.

Suddenly, I found myself propelled upwards.

I easily grabbed the box, and working together we managed to get back to ground level.

Carlo immediately dropped to his knees, and dragged my Jock down. He held it above my ankles, as I stepped free. A second later he was mouth to cock. I was instantly rock hard, and being serviced by a horny farm boy. 

This wasn’t the first dick he’d sucked; he sent heaven along my shaft.

My arms were still in recovery, as I rested my hands on the dust smeared, buzz cut skull below me. This guy seriously knew how to use his tongue. It was as if I had electric pulses streaming up and down my meat.

I felt the first tingling that I was going to unload.

“Carlo, I’m going to cum,” I started to panic, the boy stayed in place, sucking harder.

I blew, never contemplating that I had been that horny.

I partially collapsed to the same boxes Carlo had knocked asunder. My legs like jelly, I lowered myself.

Holy fuck, that was amazing.

Slowly, I could feel myself returning from ‘bliss-ville’.

As I focused, I found Carlo, now standing in front of me, his shorts discarded. Hard cock in hand, wide grin across his face. Oh fuck, he wanted turn-about.

“Thank you Sir,” he said, as he moved forward, his meat bound for my mouth.

I opened, and for the first time in my nineteen years, I was sucking cock.

I wasn’t anywhere near as skilled as Carlo, but I think he knew that. He didn’t punish my mouth, but he knew he wanted his dick sucked, and made it happen. I gagged, a lot.

When he was close to unloading, his breathing shortened. At the last second, he pulled back, and covered my face from top to bottom. His seed dripped from everywhere.

As he recovered, he carefully stepped back. Suddenly, Dale, similarly clad in only his steel-caps, stepped forward, his even bigger dick in hand. Still on my knees, nowhere to back away to. My mouth, and now upper throat was used for a second time. I gagged more, as my jaw was stretched wide. Again, my profile was drenched in white cream. Had these guys not cum for a week?

Before Dale was even clear, I knew the third unnamed worker, would be waiting in the wings.

He was, but thankfully, his meat was the smallest of them all.

* * *

When the boys helped me from the Store, Carlo gestured towards the motorbike.

I desperately searched around for a water hose, or anything to wash with.

“Wash at greenhouse,” came the reply, when he realised what I was looking for.

“No, my Boss can’t see me like this?” I pleaded, as I looked around for my now lost jock.

“Your Boss go,” informed Dale, holding two hands up, as if using a steering wheel. Relief surged through me.

“Our Boss, send us down here to help,” added unnamed guy, “but, you help us good,” he said, grinning.

We made our way back up to the glass building. I again rode behind Carlo.

“Thank you, Sir,” the three of them parroted, as Carlo and Dale stood either side of me. They draped my arms over each of their shoulders, me naked between their short clad bodies. I didn’t realise what was happening, until unnamed guy had snapped off a set of pics on his phone. When I’d tried to free my arms, I’d found them held in place.

Carlo reached up and pushed my filthy jock into my mouth, as I’d began to protest.

“Sir, please hold this in,” he said as he stuffed, then left a strap hanging free, “we want good memory,” more pics.

When they stepped aside, I shifted to remove the jock.

Carlo intercepted my hand, I froze, this didn’t seem a joke.

He carefully stuffed the lose strap into my mouth, then gently placed his fingers on my chin, closing my lips.

“This better,” he said smiling.

“When you come back, you wear again,” he said, tapping my cheek. “We play more,” he grinned, joined by his two workmates. “Next time though, we no suck, that your job,”

I didn’t respond.

“We can send pictures to face book, to remind you of fun,” he said, nodding towards the phone.

“Um, no, that’s Ok, I can come back.” I stammered.

“You very good, Sir, you come back,” he instructed, “Mr. Clef, he no good, he just want us to suck, he no pleasure us, like you.”

“You good, sir,” declared Dale as he slapped me on the arse, and walked towards the shed with his friends.

I moved to the truck, covered in dust, sweat, cum and slobber. Naked, save my boots, I started the machine and departed. As soon as I left the property, I pulled the now wet jock from my mouth.

I was fucken hard again, what the fuck was going on?

* * *

When I arrived home, I went to the side door, letting myself in through the laundry. I could hear mom in the kitchen preparing dinner, as I made my way upstairs to my room. I looked at myself in the mirror, as I dropped my shorts. I hadn’t put my polo back on.

I saw a lean, somewhat muscled guy, covered in filth; face smeared with the loads of three farm boys.

I stretched my back, feeling the pain of strained arms.

 The water in the shower ran brown for the first few minutes, how much dust had I been carrying?

As I came downstairs, I dumped a load of washing in the machine. I joined mom and my kid brother at the table.

The next day I spent a good few hours, cleaning the truck’s front seat and cabin. The dust had gotten everywhere.

* * *

When the usual Monday morning rush had subsided, the Boss called me to his office.

“Hey Chris,” he greeted, “did you find old man Clef’s missing carton?”

I nodded.

“In a storage shed, covered in dust and shit.” I relayed.

“How many of those type of jobs do you still do?” he asked, “I assume, they’re a hangover from when you were on the road?”

“Yes Boss,” I answered, “probably five or six a month,” I continued.

“Ok, push them back to the regular team.” He instructed, “it’s too busy in here.” He continued, nodding to the Ops room.

“Boss,” I interjected, “do you mind if I keep Clef’s? I’ve been going there for years, its only once every six months.”

“You can keep that one, but the rest move back to crew.”

It was a good outcome; I’d been worried Carlo would fuck with me.

* * *

Months later, as I dressed for work, I took a minute to really study myself in the mirror. We’d had new uniforms for ages. Mine still looked prime. Office work, compared to being out on the jobs, I figured.

The cotton fabric did bunch around the crutch, especially in the short shorts most of us had taken to wearing.

I looked at my package, it bulged, but not excessive. A fair bit of flattery actually, I smiled.

A few of the hung guys at work, really showed. Josh and Jamie must be packing, jokes about their lunch boxes were common place. I smiled again. Was I throwing a chub?

* * *

The next day, I was due back at Clef-rights, I was nervous. I couldn’t believe it had been six months.

I went straight there from home, arriving at eight. I was wearing my jock strap, as I knew was expected.

When I turned into the drive, an SUV was coming the opposite direction. I pulled to the side, intending to let them pass. As the vehicle got level with me, it stopped and rolled down its driver’s window. It was old-man-Clef. I dropped my window to match.

“Morning Chris,” he welcomed.

“Morning Sir,” I greeted.

“Going to be another warm one today,” he advised, “I’ve asked the boys to give you a hand, the house will be too hot to do on your own.”

I swallowed.

“Thanks,” I replied, starting to sweat already.

“Good boy,” he praised, “I won’t be back until late, see you next time.”

He was gone.   

When I pulled up to the glass house entry, I saw three four-wheeler motor bikes parked randomly on the gravel surface. I assumed the ‘boys’ were already inside. I was aware that my heart was beating faster than normal, and I was hard in my pants.

As I pulled the laptop, printer and count sheets from the back seat, I heard the shed door open.

I turned to see Carlo, heading my way, all smiles.

“Hello Sir,” he greeted.

“Hello Carlo,”

“It is good to see you have returned to us,” he continued. “Let me help with those,” he offered, reaching for the laptop.

When we arrived inside, Dale, and unknown guy were halfway along the rows I’d need to review later. As before, they were dressed in tattered nylon running shorts and boots. A fourth guy appeared behind me, coming in from outside.

“This is Mezz,” Carlo introduced, “we have told him of your delight,” he smiled.

“Hello Sir,” said Mezz, as he offered his overly firm hand, “I have seen your pictures, thank you for your service to our harden skin flesh,” he continued. His English the most broken so far.

The temperature inside seemed hotter this time.

Carlo placed the laptop, where I’d used it on the last visit.

I put the count sheets down, and opened the computer. When we were booted, we were ready to roll. Carlo watched me intently, staying quiet while I opened the recording system.

* * *

“We will get you comfortable Sir,” said Carlo, stepping forward and taking the hem of my polo in hand. Before I knew it, it was being hoisted over my head. While that was underway, I felt my shorts being unbuckled and dropped to my knees.

Mezz lowered himself, unzipping the side of my boots, guiding one leg out, then back in.  

Within less than a minute I had gone from being fully dressed to standing in an undersized sports jock, and camel colored steel-caps.

I was hard enough to be protruding from the top of my token crutch covering. I was sweating a bucket.

“Um, boys,” I stammered, this was going way too fast, “Um, we need to count.”

I noticed Dale and No Name had appeared at my side, all four of them were caressing me. Gently stroking my body.

“But Sir, we have completed the count, before you have journeyed here,” assured Carlo, holding up a stack of count sheets, I could see these ones had quantities filled in already.

“The numerals we have educated match from you last visits,” he continued, placing the papers onto the key board.

“Already counted?” I questioned, “and the totals match?”

“Yes Sir,”

“But why?”

“So we might have long time to make your delight,” answered Mezz

I felt hands on my shoulders, now lowering me to my knees.

Oh fuck!

After I found myself in position, the four farm boys proceeded to discard their own clothing. It took less than twenty seconds. I then felt my arms being lifted up behind my back, they were tied there, wrist to wrist.

As I went to protest, I found No Name’s cock immediately in front of my mouth. 

He took advantage, and pressed in, my oral cavity, now full of dick.

He worked my mouth slower than he did last time, not so desperate. He wasn’t long enough to reach my throat, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. His hairy pubes, constantly squashed to my nose. I could smell his working man sweat. He placed his hands either side of my head, and was driving himself in and out of my mouth.

Spit and slobber was already beginning to drip down my chin. As he approached his climax, he as before, pulled free and blew over my face. I was sure this time, he hadn’t cum for a week.

Mezz stepped up, they were going in order of dick sizes. He immediately began working my mouth, almost desperate to fuck it. In time he pulled his cock from my hole, slapping it back and forth across my cheeks, left then right.

“You suck, harder,” he instructed.

I did what I could, he fucked on, as I gagged on his cock touching my throat.

Sweat was now running down my head, stinging my eyes. We hadn’t fucked in the hot house before, it was oppressive.

As he prepared to cum, he pulled my head forward by my hair, then blew on my crown. As I pulled back, I could feel it dribbling down in every direction.

Carlo came next. He was slower, more methodical. He worked every part of my mouth, then concentrated on opening my throat. I was destined to be as sore as I had been last time. As his thrusts continued, I found myself gagging less and less. He was stretching my wind pipe. He blew atop of my head as well.

Dale stood before me, his cock largest of all. It seemed huge; I was scared. He pushed it straight to my throat, and spent as much of his session there, as he could. He fucked my hole as if it was a pussy, his clipped pubes, stabbing into my nose and lips relentlessly.

* * *

When they paused to recharge, Carlo held a water bottle to my mouth, allowing me to drink my fill.

“Carlo, that’s enough,” I croaked, my voice a whisper.

“Sir, you make funny,” he replied, genuinely sincere, “we have pills to make more delight for you.”

I felt a hand reach to my junk, Mezz was checking me out.

He spoke to Carlo in Spanish. I had no idea what they said, but Carlo agreed, suddenly searching for his discarded clothes.

He returned a second later, transferring two pills to my mouth. He held the water bottle at the right angle, and squeezed a full gush of liquid down my throat. I coughed and spluttered, no chance to reject what I’d just been dosed with. I prayed it wasn’t drugs.

Mezz immediately stood, and began fucking my mouth for a second time.

By the time each had used me through another round, I could feel an erection of unnatural hardness.

I’d never had Viagra before, but I was sure that’s what I’d been given.

I was laid uncoordinated to my back, my arms making it impossible to get comfortable. Dale straddled my head, pressing one, then the other of his big balls into my mouth. As he rested there, I could actually taste the sweat of his nuts.

Meanwhile, down at my junk level, my jock had been shifted to the side. My dick was being pumped, but it honestly felt like it would be next Tuesday before I blew. Then I felt some ungodly pressure being applied to the head of my cock. It fucken hurt!

I thrashed a little, trying to dislodge the balls from my mouth. Surrendering, I tried to talk around then.

“Yes, that works,” declared Dale, looking back to whoever was torturing my dick, “it’s made his mouth much more active.”

“What the fuck is going on here!” a huge voice boomed. Instantly Dale ripped himself from me, and stood with his work mates. I didn’t care what was going on, I just wanted what ever was attached to my dick gone.

I tossed, turned, and half struggled to sit. I looked down to see my silver clip board clip, hanging from my meat.  

Old-man-Clef stared down at me, almost unable to compute. Surveying the situation, he reached down and unburdened my cock from the nightmare jaws. He looked behind to see my hands tied.

“Cut him free,” he commanded. Carlo sprang to action severing the rope.

I immediately jumped to my feet, then felt like I was going to faint, I wobbled unsteady for a few seconds.

“I’ve told you before! You boys have to stop fucking the contractors!” the boss yelled.

The four farm boys dropped their heads.

“Go get yourselves ready,” he instructed, as visible fear spread through the group. They departed naked.

* * *

Back in my truck, Old man rested his arm along the length of the window frame.

“I think we can cancel the inventory contract,” he said simply.

I just nodded, too embarrassed to speak. My cock was still doing its best to drill through my shorts.

“I don’t expect to be mentioning this to your boss,” he continued.

“Me neither,” I croaked.

“Good lad,” he said simply.

“For what it’s worth,” he began a new, “when Boys try to play with Boys, absent of men. You get what happened here.”

I nodded slowly, only partially understanding.

“You keep playing with Boys,” he took a breath, “you’ll lose count of how many bull clips get attached to your knob.” I shuddered.

“What’s going to happen to them?” I asked, in a whisper.

“I’ll be beating their arses.” He advised, “doesn’t seem to dissuade them though,” he lamented.

I felt my dick twitch.

He paused, looking down at my crutch.

“If you get off on control Boy, I suggest you stay away from fellow dumb fuck pussies, like yourself.”

I put my head down. He took that as a sign, tapped the side of the truck, we were done.

* * *

“You know that Clef-rights cancelled their contract?” Boss asked, the next week.

“Yeah, he told me he was going to do that.” I replied.

“Looks like about time,” he continued, “I have no idea why he thought he needed manual counts?”

I just shrugged.

“Anyways, lets focus on what’s happening here,” Simon directed, “we need to get this new office locked down.”

* * *

The events of the last Clef visit, continued to leave me rattled.

I was having trouble concentrating.

I thought I had the situation in hand, until a morning where Josh refused to head to his assigned job.

What the fuck?

It had a designated start time, he needed to be on site!

Jarrod and I had words with him, before Alex stormed upstairs, and completely spat the dummy.

Fifteen minutes later Boss arrived, and ripped me and Jarrod new ones.

Holy fuck! Everything he said was true, and blatantly obvious. I’d ignored all my instincts.

Things went from bad to worse, when Boss challenged us to get over ourselves, and verbalize our Operations Plan. It had been on our KRA list for months, we’d just never prioritized it. First strike.

When we did have a go, we under pitched badly.

We were way better than what we presented, what the fuck were we thinking? Strike two.

I was shitting myself. I knew I was dumb, but I’d worked hard for this job. I loved it. Now for some reason I couldn’t see beyond a pizza and beer night!

Jarrod and I decided to take a full day out of the office. Unprecedented! We hired a guy who only did strategic plans. Turns out we had most of the answers, we were just unorganised.

In the end it felt right to be taking a different approach. I still didn’t know why we were originally so limited.

We practiced for hours to get the pitch right. When we briefed the Boss, I’d rarely seen him happier. We had hit it out of the park.

* * *

I looked back on those months as a golden period.

We commissioned the staff gym, started a new plumber, and nominated two apprentices from crew. We were having a real impact on the business.

The crowning glory came when Josh and Jamie put their hands up to be building apprentices. They were perfect for the roles. James started a month later.

We also found out Josh and Jamie weren’t as hung as we believed. As the most jacked guys on crew, they were built like brick shithouses. They were in the new gym at least every second day. Carl dropped the fact they had ball bangles around their nuts. I’d never heard of such things.

* * *

On the Friday disaster struck, I received a text message from a number I didn’t recognize. The sender identified himself as Carlo. I felt myself freeze. I’d been most of the way through payroll, when I’d felt my phone vibrate.

It was a long SMS. I decided to read it later, but I was hard as a rock.

I finalised the wage transfer, asked Jarrod to authorize, then scurried home.

Carlo was begging me to ring Old man Clef.

He said he and his crew had been cock locked for months. Could I call, and say it was me, not them, who had initiated the session he had interrupted. I delayed my response.

When I arrived at work the next Monday, I couldn’t understand why there was a bank warning for Account Four. As I worked through the possibilities, my blood began to chill. When Jarrod arrived, I had ice in my veins. I’d fucked up monumentally.

Jarrod and I spent the rest of the day traveling around all the worksites.

One by one, we met and sat with every employee, handed them some cash to get them by, then explained what the fuck had happened. Two of mine cried, they’d thought the company was going broke.

When we gave our update, Boss stayed calm, given how bad it was.

As I left his office, I saw his old Frat paddle, hanging on his office wall

He picked what I was thinking instantly, and warned me off.

I left, but I couldn’t get it out of my brain.

I spent the night researching frat rules, around being paddled.

The next day I walked in, took the paddle off the wall and put it on Boss’s desk.

Jarrod stood with me, even though this had nothing to do with him.

* * *

I took four paddle hits. Had five owing. What the fuck had I done!

My brain exploded in white hot pain, with every strike. I had no concept it could hurt so bad.

I’d been a fucken idiot!

As dictated, Boss fitted me and Jarrod with cock cages.

I stood before him, as he gently handled my balls, squeezing them through the ring.

I suddenly understood what Old man Clef had spoken about. Boss was a real man, guiding a dumb fuck Boy, through the steps of being owned. For the first time, I was in exactly the right space. I couldn’t explain it, but it felt true.

I left the office that night with my dick, my balls, my cum under the direct control of an owner who seemed to give a shit. As I lay in my bed, I strained against the metal encasing my cock. I wasn’t so lost anymore!

I sent a reply text to Carlo the next morning, sorry I couldn’t help him out, I was cock locked myself. Perfect!

* * *

When I had done my Frat research, I‘d guessed cock cages could be involved, but they weren’t overly common.

I didn’t understand, there was no cum relief!

At least once or twice a week the Boss inspected our cages carefully, apparently if they didn’t fit correctly, there would be problems. Jarrod and I were wearing the perfect sizes.

A month in, I had to admit I was starting to lose it. More and more I couldn’t think clearly, it was as if my brain was floating in a pool of cum. I had to start sleeping on my back, every night my cock would strain, every morning my balls would demand relief. I was losing my mind.

I knew I could get the cage off, if only I would take the outstanding paddles. I simply couldn’t do it, not yet. I still felt the ghost pain each of those hits had generated, I was way too scared to think about it.  

We’d been working naked in the office for weeks. Every time crew came in, we’d simply drag our shorts on. The team didn’t question why we were constantly shirtless, I guess they thought the office was a hot box to work in.

Boss remained completely in charge. He owned us, knew it, and wasn’t swayed by the drama Jarrod and I were generating internally. He was well aware of what we were going through, but, simply expected that, as his Boys, we’d manage it. I was growing less and less confident I had any idea on how to manage myself. Increasingly Boss had to step in and calm our panic, I realized I was completely reliant on his firm hand, his ability to think when my brain was pure fog.

Fuck! I’d never been this horny, every day it was as if I had to climb a new peak. Somehow, with Boss in my court, I managed to.

When I finally cracked, I inadvertently took Jarrod with me. I threw myself at Boss’s feet and cried. My balls had taken over my mind.

When he had calmed us, we talked about possibilities. I was still too frightened of the paddle, which he knew. He didn’t press, he was a great owner!

The following Tuesday, Boss, Jarrod and me went to an engineering works on the edge of the city. It was run by a crusty old guy, who had two naked Boy helpers of his own. They were covered in metal. I guessed the pair were disabled; they couldn’t bend at the waist, poor guys.

We walked out with the same type of rings that Josh and Jamie sported. We had bluntly asked them for a look last week. They didn’t blink, dropping their gear there and then.in exchange we showed them our cages.  

For the entire return trip, I was rock hard and dripping pre-cum.

When Boss pulled up at his house, we went inside and ate the pizza we’d collected on the way back.

After dinner I dropped to my knees and gave Jarrod the best head-job I could. I was surprised how much skill I’d picked up from Carlo and his crew.

After I swallowed, Jarrod took my cock in his mouth. I was sure it was his first-time touching another guy’s dick. It didn’t matter, I needed to get off more than be worried about technique.

The relief I experienced that night was amazing, with the mouth of Jarrod, I released three times.

I even gave head to the Boss.

* * *

After Jarrod and me were banded, we quickly settled into a routine. If we wanted to unload our balls, we had to get head from each other. The first few days we were so horny we were on our knees all the time.

We were quickly deep throating, and both of us lost our gag reflex.

If I was servicing Jarrod, I’d usually check if the boss wanted any, he occasionally did.

Weekends were the worst. I’d wake up horny, knowing I wouldn’t see Jarrod until Monday. It never got as bad as when I was in the cage though.

* * *

For the first time in probably a year, I found myself content. Work was going Ok, I was getting off regularly, and I wasn’t stuck in no-man’s-land of trying to find out who I was. I’d stare at myself in my bedroom’s full-length mirror, taking in my increasing muscles, and my ringed balls. I was a dumb fuck, who had somehow found a way.

I realized old-Man-Clef had been right, being trapped by fellow Boys had kept me going in circles. Boss was a real man I hadn’t recognized. I’d handed him my balls on a platter, and like a man, he took them. He owned my nuts!

I still thought about finding a woman, having kids, and all that stuff, but I’d been shown my place, and unless I took another heinous arse whipping, for the time, I was going to stay owned.

I was a pussy boy, and that was Ok, at least in Boss’s company, I felt safe.

The End.

---

Thanks sticking with this lengthy episode. This is the only extension to this story line.

I appreciate extension suggestions, but don't typically write by request.

People tend to have a very clear picture in their head, about how a story will unfold. Then get very offended, to the point of abuse, if it doesn't work out that way.

Anyway, after three separate requests for this flavored extension, here it is.

I hope you enjoyed. It may not be exactly what you wanted, but all I can do is record how it unfolded. You can color in around the edges, if that gets you going. 

As always, thanks for taking the time to read.

Feedback welcome, in comments or at [email protected]

Luke