Before we parted that day, I got Danny's phone number, his address, and the same for his nearby relatives: a brother and sister and his eighty year old mother. At some point, I would, using some pretense, find ways to meet them. I wanted to have all the useful information I could get to enrich my pleasure in owning Danny. Even as we went our separate ways that day, I laughed to myself imagining talks with the old mother, perhaps even befriending her. and all the time she being oblivious to the fact that her poor, troubled, yet beloved son was at my townhouse doing my dirty laundry (and loving it!).
I chose the following Tuesday for our first get-together. I was feeling good at the prospect of the day. I'd already been to the complex's gym, and had made a few necessary phone calls. Danny arrived at my door exactly at the appointed time. I chuckled as I watched him nervously checking his watch as he approached along the pathway that led to my unit. I opened the door to find a neatly dressed, clean-shaven Danny on the doorstep. Small beads of sweat dotted his brow and upper lip. I watched his face and took a moment to savor his discomfort. He looked away, fidgeting with a small package in his hands.
"Come in, Danny boy." I said, opening the door wide and stepping aside. I closed the door, then walked off into the apartment, leaving him there. I went to my bedroom, lay on the bed, and turned on the television.
I watched a bit of news, checked the weather, and returned about ten minutes later to find Danny just where I'd left him. Excellent. He knew intuitively to do nothing without my say-so. He was looking at the floor and still holding the small gift-wrapped package.
I sat on the couch.
"Take your clothes off, faggot." i said in a serious tone. "And make it snappy."
I sat back with my arms draped across the back of the couch while Danny flew into action. It was something to see! Clothes everywhere.
"Neatly! Neatly!" I said sternly, glaring at him.
He scrambled about, gathering the articles he'd already shed into a tidy arrangement. He did this with trembling hands, which I liked. This loser was definitely under my thumb!
"Pick up the pace, Danny!" I instructed.
He quickly removed his shoes and socks, then performed what I would call the 'piece de resistance' of the day. While removing his pants, his leg got tangled in the fabric. While I looked on in amusement, Danny struggled to maintain his balance. It was most entertaining! With his foot still stuck in the pants leg, poor Danny hopped about, then fell face-first on the floor with a thud.
Barely disguising my mirth, I watched as Danny yanked vigorously at his pants from a sitting position. finally removing them and folding them neatly. He was down to his socks and briefs. His face was red with embarrassment.
"I'm very sorry, sir, I..."
"Stop talking." I ordered. Clearly, Danny needed instruction about when to speak.
"Stand up and take off the rest of your clothes." I said.
Danny dutifully did so, and I now had my naked loser boy before me to appraise. For someone his age, he was in fine fettle. Just a bit of jiggle in the midriff, but otherwise, quite respectable. He had no body hair other than on his calves, under his arms, and in the genital area."Turn around, boy." I said, and Danny turned to reveal a nicely shaped, fleshy pair of smooth white buttocks. A perfect pallette for the stripes and welts I would eventually place there. I had him turn back to face me. He held his hands in front of his cock.
"Move your hands away, faggot." I said. "Let me see what you've got there."
Again, Danny's face colored as he brought his hands to his sides.
"Well, well. What have we here." I said, eyeing the sorry display of manhood, if you could call it that.