This is a true story which started happening a couple of weeks ago. I decided to keep track of it and post it here for other fags to get excited over.
I was relaxing on my bed playing X-Box when I got the notification on my phone. "Kyle Cody likes a photo you're tagged in". Weird. I haven't used Facebook in a while and I certainly hadn't seen Kyle Cody.
Kyle was some faggot in my year in high school. He didn't tell anyone he was gay, but it was obvious -- he used to move out of my way when I walked past him in the hallway, let me go ahead of him in the queue for the canteen, and look at the ground if I ever made eye contact with him.
At first I thought he was just scared of me, but the way he stared at my body when we were getting changed for gym class made me think otherwise. He'd sit there wide-eyed, taking in every inch of my bare skin while I stood in just underwear.
I always enjoyed feeling his eyes on me, and used to slow down to put on a bit of a show. Then, just when he was lost in his pathetic little fantasies, I'd make eye contact with him and watch his face turn a dark shade of red as he realises that I've caught him.
After a while in high school I realised I could have a bit of fun with Kyle and use him to my advantage. We had assigned seats in geography class, and we were beside each other because his surname (Cody) was beside mine (Dillon) when the class was sorted in alphabetical order.
I began by simply dropping some of my stuff on the floor (usually my pen) and telling Kyle to pick it up instead of doing it myself. He wouldn't even hesitate to practically dive down on the ground, pick it up and place it back on my desk. After a while, I started making him place things back in my hand just so I could drop them again, clearly on purpose. I'd also give specific instructions, like "Get down on your knees and pick it up", just to see how far I could push it.
While I knew I was humiliating Kyle, he seemed to love every second of it. Sometimes I'd reward him for his obedience by saying "Good boy", like you might say to a dog. His face would light up in the knowledge that he had my approval.
On an almost daily basis, I began to approach Kyle in the halls and tell him to empty his pockets. I used to take whatever money he had and buy myself lunch with it. Even if it was 50 dollars, I'd take all of it and tell him that if he wanted lunch he would have to come and ask me for money. When he did, I'd make him almost beg, saying please and calling me Sir. I would only give him money sometimes, and other times would just tell him "I feel like making you go hungry today faggot".
On one occasion, I made him empty his pockets and found that he didn't bring any money in. I brought him into the toilets, slapped him in the face a couple of times, made him kneel if front of me, kiss my feet and promise that it would never happen again.
Despite his obedience, I never really thought of Kyle as my slave. I knew that he was a faggot and that he was obsessed with me. I just got a kick out of having a bit of fun with him and taking his money. I used to make him do my homework too, which was just useful. When high school ended, though, I had no desire to stay in touch with him or keep using him.
A year later there I was, lying on my bed and realising that this fag was still thinking about me. When I got the notification, it was obvious that Kyle must have been stalking my Facebook. I clicked the link and saw that the photo he had liked was from over a year ago -- and, unsurprisingly, it was a picture of me standing beside a river which I had been swimming in, wearing just a pair of short swimming trunks. I couldn't blame the faggot.
My legs looked hot, my 6 pack was on show and my muscular arms were looking as good as ever. I'm sure he had been enjoying jerking off over that picture for a while.
I don't know if it was because I was just bored or because I remembered how much fun I used to have bullying this kid and bossing him around, but I decided to have some fun. I sent him a text.
"Having fun faggot?"
The reply came quickly. "What?"
He had forgotten his manners. "Is that how you address me gayboy?"
"Sorry Sir." That was more like it. I was surprised at how quickly he went back to being an obedient little bitch. He obviously hadn't grown a pair of balls in the last year.
"Good boy. Are you having fun looking at pics of me?"
The reply made me laugh. "Please don't tell anyone". He didn't try to deny it, didn't even apologise, he just gave that pathetic response.
This was an interesting situation. I was always able to boss him around and give him orders, but I wonder if it would be even easier if I could blackmail him. After all, he seems to love taking orders anyway. "I won't. As long as you do what I say. You'll do what I say won't you?"
"Yes".
"Yes what?"
"Yes Sir."
This was too easy. "Where are you now?" I asked.
"I'm at work".
"Where the fuck do you work?"
"Jones' Sir".
Jones' was a tiny little gas station on the outskirts of town. It's quiet, and there's only one person working there at a time. I knew he'd be there alone. I didn't reply to the text -- better to keep him in suspense. I walked to the door and jumped in my car. Time to have some fun.
If you're a faggot enjoying the story and wishing you could serve me like Kyle does, send me an email. Next chapter coming soon.