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Warning: This erotic fiction contains sexual experiences between fictional males. If this is not your thing, leave now. Furthermore, any similarity to any person, place or thing living or dead is merely coincidental.
There is no safe sex in this story because it is fiction. Remember: In real life, play as safe as possible preferably no exchange of bodily fluids.
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Story codes: M, MM, SM, bd
Please check out my other Nifty.org stories, which can be found under the prolific author section at http://www.nifty.org/nifty/frauthors.html and then scroll down to Douglas Marx
Growing Up Naked http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/growing-up-naked/ Downward Spiral of Jim http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/downward-spiral-of-jim Naked Whore http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/naked-whore Put Out to Pasture http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/put-out-to-pasture Santa's Slave Training http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/santas-slave-training Special Product Design http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/special-product-design The Trunk http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-trunk
Born - Chapter One
Some people are born to serve. This may be a genetic thing. It may be learned behavior as a child. It may be a particular odd influence from parents through some purposeful upbringing slant or an impact that the parents aren't even aware of. Regardless, from an early age, I felt this incredible desire to turn myself over to a man in service.
From all exterior views, I was normal and that my rearing was typical. My parents loved me making sure that I was well-fed, well-educated, and well-disciplined. I had a simple middle-class life with family vacations, my own room and my own computer.
Thank god for a computer. I started to research the Internet regarding the feelings that I was having in my early teens. I found many websites where men were abusing other men. I found Nifty and read every Authoritarian story that has ever been posted to the site. My jack off sessions were all about dreams of service, abuse, humiliation, and control by another man. I would spew massive quantities of sperm over my stomach several times a day. After all, I was a teen male. That is what teen males do.
I never acted on any of this while I was under my parents' roof. I think it was part of my respect for authority that kept me from doing so. I realized that in order for me to discover the life that I so desperately needed, fantasied about stroking my cock, and reading on the Internet, I was going to have to move away from my parents when I was 18 and had graduated from high school.
I started working at 14 so that I could save money as fast as possible. Working was consistent with my desires as working was being of service. I missed most of the normal teen experiences because I worked. By the time I graduated, I had enough money to move into my own little apartment in the gay part of the city.
My parents were very proud of me for being such a good driven kid. They offered me college and I told them that maybe in the future; however, I wanted to move out on my own first. They told me that they were not going to help me financially after I moved out unless I decided to go to school. I told them that I was perfectly ok with that and expressed my appreciation for the agreement.
All this rather odd by today's teen standard behavior has to do with my complete desire for submission. I entirely missed the obnoxious teen ego gene.
I walked out the door of my boyhood home the day after my eighteenth birthday with a suitcase in hand, my computer, and tears from my parents. I got on the bus and headed into the city to my new apartment.
The bus ride downtown was filled with the thoughts that the time had finally arrived. Those teen years dragged on forever, even though it is technically only five years of time. When I got off the bus, I could smell the difference in the air. There is a distinction between city and suburb air. Bus fumes, car exhaust, food smells wafting from the little restaurants. I walked a few blocks from the stop to my new apartment that I had secured the week prior via a Craigslist ad. It wasn't much but it was clean, safe, and small with a kitchenette, a bed, and a desk. I quickly set up the computer to the Internet, put my clothes away, and walked down to the store to get some food.
That night I spent the entire evening looking over jobs in the neighborhood. I was willing to do anything like the good little boy that I am.
The next day I decided to go to the local branch of my bank. I wanted to get a little extra cash. Getting cash was part of a long-term strategy I had. I wanted to have as few records of my life available for examination. I paid cash for everything. The only available records of my life would be my state photo ID, my checking account, my Social Security number and where I lived. All traces of what I did were left non existant. Paying cash, never taking a receipt, and not accounting for anything with a computer program minimized who I was and what I did. I wanted to become less traceable particularly by my parents. This was more a matter of love and respect for them than to hurt them. I knew at some point my service would bring me involved with someone who may take me out of society. If that happened, I wanted the clues to be lessened. It would be better for my parents in the end even though they might not understand.
I walked into the bank and spoke with the teller. I filled out the withdrawal form and had a pleasant conversation. Suddenly I was inspired to ask if there were any jobs available. She told me there were and that I should go see a Mr. Brown, who was the branch manager. After getting my money, I walked over to Mr. Brown's office door and stood there. He was on the phone and motioned for me to wait a minute.
Mr. Brown took me aback. He was very handsome, probably in his mid-thirties, brown hair, a five o'clock shadow at ten a.m., about 5'10", a little husky, maybe ten pounds overweight. He gave me a smile as I sat down.
He said, "What can I do for you young man?"
"My name is Jim. The teller told me that there may be an opening here. She said you were in charge. I want a job and am willing to do anything."
"Good, I like a boy who is willing to do anything." I thought that was a strange thing to say even though it totally turned me on. Typically, one would not use the word "boy" in an employment setting. "Fill out this application. We have a position as a teller coming up as one of the women is pregnant and not coming back. I will review it and give you a call either way within a couple of days. You can sit right here and complete it. I have a lunch. Just leave it on my desk."
He got up and I noticed that there was a big bulge in his pants. Was he hot or was that just how big it was? Regardless, my mouth dropped and I am sure he saw my expression.
I filled out the form, left it on his desk and left the bank. I immediately walked back to my apartment, stripped off and jacked my cock furiously thinking about all the nasty things Mr. Brown could do to me. Fuck he was hot.
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