Disclaimer: This story is a gay authoritarian fantasy. No part of it is based in fact, and none of the characters are intended to resemble real persons, living or dead. It features a domination/submission relationship between two consenting men above 18. If this type of content is offensive to you or illegal in your area, or if you are under the age of 18, please do not proceed.
It started years ago, when my working hours were gradually cut in half due to lack of business. I had thought that making $32K as a call center agent was not that great, but I was not prepared for what was coming.
Within a year, I went from having a decent standard of living in a cute Fort Worth studio apartment, to surviving in a basement on the southern outskirts of the metropolitan area.
The more time I spent job-hunting, the more obvious it became that what I had been doing for over five years, and the only skill I had in the job market, was a dying profession.
One day, I was informed that the company where I worked was closing down in two months, and advised to start looking for a new job.
Now, my livelihood was at risk, and there wasn't much I could do about it. My family had immigrated back home, and none of my acquaintances was willing to help. I had to lower my standards way down, or I was going to end up under a bridge. So, I applied for every minimum-wage job in my way.
As the two-month period was coming to an end, and my fate was almost sealed, I stumbled upon a Craigslist posting for a live-in housekeeper position.
Upon contacting the poster, I learned that I would perform domestic duties on a daily basis, in return for free accommodation, free food, and an allowance of $2,000 a month. For my standards, that was a great deal.
At 25, I was hardly a "boy" or even a young adult by some definitions, and I knew a job like that one was much more suitable for a college kid than a grown man.
Then again, what did I have on college guys, or even high school kids? At 5'5", 125lbs, totally hairless, you couldn't tell I was a day past puberty. The average male in middle school could probably beat me to a pulp.
On the other hand, Garrett was a divorced, financially stable 36-year-old petroleum engineer with no kids, who owned the 2000-sqft, two-bedroom, three-bathroom downtown Dallas apartment where he lived, along with two rental properties around the state.
My responsibilities included tidying up his place, washing his dishes, doing his laundry, fixing his breakfast, dinner, and drinks, and of course, making sure every inch of his apartment was immaculate.
From the first day I moved in, he had no problem acting almost like no one was around. Using the bathroom with the door wide open. Walking around half-naked. Spending so long without a shower that air conditioning could barely mask his body odor.
As time passed, his behavior only became more blatant. He started feeling comfortable ordering me to clean his boots before he headed to work while he wore them. Wash his back in the shower. Massage his feet after a long day.
One night, I was woken up by the sound of a girl that he had brought from a bar moaning while he plowed her. No sooner had I found the courage to protest, than he told me to run to the nearest open store and get him a lubricant.
It didn't take long for him to take it to the level of obnoxious. Many times, I woke up to find the head of my toothbrush covered in a big chunk of his spit, as a sign for me to buy toothpaste. My freshly-washed towel covered in what looked like mud, as a reminder that I must clean his boots more often. My very own T-shirts with skid marks on them, simply because I had forgotten to change the toilet roll.
Any man with an ounce of dignity would have manned up and attempted to put an end to his roommate's bullying tactics and overall abrasive attitude. In this case, I was anything but a man, and Garrett was not my roommate or friend. That was his very own place, and I was lucky to be living there.
Not that I could put up a fight against him, even if I dared to. At 6 feet tall and 225 lbs strong, I was like an ant to his feet. From his clean-shaven face and well-groomed hair, you wouldn't expect to see forests of thick, golden-brown hair covering his body. Underneath, he was slowly but surely turning his fat to muscle as he hit the gym at least three times a week.
So, not only was I a charity case compared to him when it came to career success and wealth, but he had more masculinity in his pinky than me in my whole body. More often than not, my attitude towards him was unnecessarily obsequious to the point of ass-kissing, just out of intimidation.
One Thursday, I had set Garrett's steak dinner and ice-cold drink on the coffee table in the living room, expecting him to arrive back from work any second. I was still furious, because earlier that day, I had woken up to find a floater left behind by him in my assigned bathroom.
I looked into the tall glass of beer and thought, "What if I were to drop a few squirts of my precum into it? Would he be able to tell the difference?"
On one hand, it would be a risk to the job it had taken me months to find, which was allowing me to save tons of cash. On the other hand, if all worked well, he would have my cum inside his system, and I would finally achieve some kind of justice.
The more I thought about it, my thoughts became more synonymous with, "Do I even have time? What if he comes back early?"
Eventually, my rage prevailed over my fear. I decided to go ahead and add some flavor to his awaited beer.
Five minutes later, I thought, "What's the harm in one more little drop?"
I chuckled as I headed towards the table for the third time, and got ready to let out yet another drop.
While squeezing the head of my penis, it chilled my blood to feel a large, strong hand grab me by the back of my collar and pull me away, which caused me to fall on my butt. Slowly, I was dragged across the place, flopping around, screaming, and yelping in fear, until I found myself in the main bathroom.
I barely had time to look behind and find out that it was Garrett, looking down, unzipping and taking his cock out, before he lifted his foot and forcefully pressed my head into the toilet bowl under the heel of his US 13-size boot.
I just knelt there, trying to embrace the point of no return. I had just been caught in the most compromising position by the man who controlled my livelihood, and could crunch me like a fly.
I was too petrified to say anything, even to apologize, or make any move that could ruin his amusement of flooding my hair with his warm bladder contents until the last drop.
While he relieved himself, he hawked and dropped a giant wad of spit that landed on my cheek and flowed down to my nose along with the piss stream.
"Sir, I'm so sorry, Sir. Sir, I promise that will never happen again, Sir. Sir, please don't--", I pleaded, turning my head to speak while he shook the last few drops.
He let me know that my apologies weren't welcome by flagrantly flushing the toilet, with my head still down.
Garrett then yanked me up by my wet hair, so that my face was inches away from his crotch.
"Congratulations. You just single-handedly added a ton of workload to your daily schedule."
I couldn't imagine doing what he was hinting at. Serving a gross older bully's houseboy was bad enough, but engaging in sexual acts with him was rock bottom for me.
"Sir, please, Sir. Sir, I'm not even gay, Sir. Sir, I'm begging--"
He wasted no time jamming his semi-hard, uncut, reddish-white, girthy 6" cock into my breathless mouth.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Did you say you wanted to sleep on the street from now on?"
