Slave to the Man Ch. 01

Part 1: Called to Account

I got to read the text shortly after we'd arrived for our first night of the 5 day conference. I was tired and irritable, wondering what the hell I was doing there. This wasn't my usual work function. I was used to the anonimity of the office desk and monitor. But for some reason the boss, Jim, thought I needed to "widen my horizons" and a free five days expenses-paid trip in a good hotel was a horizon I was happy to view. I suppose too I was eager to ingratiate myself with him, partly because I saw it as a way I might work my way up his small company's ladder, but also due in a great part to the fact that I'd been stealing from him.

It wasn't a collossall sum of money. At least the sums weren't that big. I'd just eked a little this way and that in the accounts that went across my desk - fifty pounds here and fifty pounds there. Nothing that I thought might arouse undue suspicion, and indeed so it had seemed. I'd been with the company almost two years and in that time I'd perhaps relieved Jim of almost £3000. The small sums had added up to a hefty amount, and the guilt gnawed at me.

I hadn't joined the company as a thief. But I had joined it as an addict, with an addiction that was already costing too much. My fondness for the finest available skunk marajuana had hit my cashflow hard, and the ready money ran out before the grass supply did, and I owed a dealer a considerable sum. I took a gamble and 'borrowed from the till', fully expecting to pay it back. When it wasn't noticed I had continued to steal, hiding from my shame and guilt behind a haze of joint smoke.

After we'd arrived at the hotel that evening I'd had to endure an hour or so in the bar with Jim and his co-director, as well as a few other people from accounts, when all I wanted to do was get to my room, have a shower, and enjoy a long smoke, perhaps while I toyed with myself in front of some porn. I was just wandering to my room after bidding my colleagues goodnight, thinking about whether porn would show up itemised on the company bill, when my phone buzzed and there was the message from Jim, asking me to call by his room to collect a schedule for the next day and have a look at some figures.

I wondered why the hell it couldn't wait until breakfast, but as I said, I was wanting to be the boss's golden boy, so got the lift to another floor and followed various signs until I found the right numbers. As I approached his door I could smell that I was obviously in the smoking section, and I made a note to make sure I got a room here in future, which would save me having to hang out of the window.

I arrived at his door, and after straightening my tie and making sure my shirt was tucked and my trousers zipped, I knocked.

*

"It's open!" I heard the familiar sound of Jim's voice from within. I pushed open the door and found myself in a suite that was almost disappointing for its modesty, considering Jim's wealth and business clout. Admittedly it was better than my standard double room, but not what I would have gone for if I'd owned a company. There again it was my expensive tastes that had always got my into trouble.

Jim was sitting behind the desk across the room. He was a tall, imposing man. In his mid-fifties but still fit and strong-looking. His angular features and shaved scalp projected an image of a man who didn't suffer fools gladly. I always felt younger when in his vicinity, almost naive. I respected him hugely, which made my theft from him even more despicable.

"Thanks for coming Jamie. Close the door and take a seat."

I sat down noticing the ash tray on the desk with a cigar lying in it as yet unlit. A started to crave the joint that was waiting for me in my room and hoped that this wouldn't take too long.

Jim rummaged through some papers and then produced a sheet and handed it to me.

"That's the schedule for tomorrow. It's a 9.30am start so not too early. We'll all meet at breakfast and take it from there."

I nooded and glanced at the dull-looking timetable of talks about accounting, seminars on accounting, lunches with accountants, as Jim rummaged again in his paperwork.

"I'd also like you to have a look over these figures too" he said, passing me a couple of sheets stapled together.

It took perhaps a full ten seconds or so of staring at the list of figures before I realised what they were, my heart hammering in my chest and my blood starting to turn cold. I felt light-headed and my sight turned to tunnel-vision as I looked at an itemised listing of my theft over the course of two years. Pages of lists of numbers, with my own secret transfers glaring in yellow highlighter.

I looked up at Jim. He was just sitting there, looking at me over steepled fingers. It was several seconds before he spoke.

"Now, firstly I don't want you to insult my intelligence by pretending that either you don't know what that document refers to, or that it wasn't you that was responsible. I've taken a considerable time to check and double-check, and I'm a thorough man. You've been stealing from me almost the entire time that you've been employed by me. Who the fuck do you think you are, boy? No-one steals from me!" I could hear the edge of anger seething through him, and wondered for a moment if he was going to launch himself across the desk at me, but then he took a deep breath and seemed to regain control.

"Secondly" he continued "you'll understand that I can't let this stand with just a dismissal, but I thought I'd give you a choice, and a chance. A choice about how you want things to proceed about this massive betrayal of trust, and a chance to make up for it. Your choice is whether you want me to pick up that phone and get the police down here immediately, or whether you want the matter to be handled internally. But then that isn't really a choice is it? You're going to chose the second option, because the first ends with you going to prison where a soft little office boy like you is only going to end up one way - as some black guy's bitch - not to mention being an embarrassment to your family, wrecking your job hopes and basically ruining your life."

It was true, but he wasn't waiting for any confirmation from me and continued

"So we deal with the matter internally, which means you have another choice, either that we go through the normal disciplinary channels or you have me handle the matter personally. Again that's not much of a choice. Any normal route will still see the police involved sooner or later and you're back to having a ruined life and a ruined ass." He laughed cruelly as he reached for his cigar and started to prepare it for smoking.

"So all you're left with is a chance. A chance to redeem yourself and convince me to keep this between ourselves. A chance to save your job and avoid a criminal record. A chance to pay back what you stole. You understand?" He picked up the cigar and rolled it under his nose.

I nodded dumbly, the shock still making my head spin and heart thump. He lit the cigar and took steady puffs from it before extracting it, and blowing out a large cloud of smoke into the air.

He examined the lit end to make sure it burned evenly as I heard myself blurt out in a shakey voice that yes of course I would repay every penny, that I was so sorry. He just held up a hand to stop me.

"I'm not interested in hearing your repayment plan, Jamie. How does that punish you? You just get an interest-free loan for a couple of years. No, you're going to pay your debt another way. Now when I've finished talking you're going to get up and pour me a drink of scotch from that bottle over there, and when you hand it over you can then do one of two things, either bring me the phone so I can ring the police, or bring a pillow for you to kneel on while you suck my cock."

My heart practically stopped.

"No pleadings, no beggings - you just get on your knees, open your mouth and do as your told, and think yourself lucky that I'm not making you bend over to pay the debt."

Even if my throat hadn't dried completely I doubt I would have been able to speak. What could I say? I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment and shame, and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I quickly realised that firstly there was no other way out of this and secondly that in a moment it looked like I was going to be on my knees sucking my boss's cock to keep my job and myself out of prison. I also naively thought that it looked like I was going to be suffering the indignity of being someone's cocksucker whichever route I took, and better this than nightly prison rape. It didn't really occur to me that what was being suggested was essentially oral rape.

Jim indicated the bottle and I stood unsteadily. I made it to the bottle but spilt a little of the scotch as my trembling hand held the glass. As I walked back over to him it seemed like I was in a dreamworld. He took the glass and gulped a slug of it.

"Well? Make your choice. But do it quickly before I lose my patience."

There was no choice, and before Jim had finished another two drags of his cigar and another heavy drain on his scotch glass, I was back before him, dropping the pillow at his feet and then getting to my knees on it, looking at the floor in my shame as I just knelt there waiting, studying his expensive shoes.

"I knew it." Jim sneered. "Cocksucker."

He placed his cigar in the ash tray and his drink on the desk and then stood up , reaching for his zip. My eyes followed the movement and remained transfixed as he delved inside his suit trousers and extracted both a rather large, semi-erect and cirumcised cock and a pair of heavy, shaved balls. Once he was satisfied that he was comfortable, he picked his cigar and scotch back up and stood there, fully clothed, with just his genitals naked to the air.

I'd never been this close to another man's cock before, and I couldn't help staring at it, a mixture of fascination at this totally new experience, and horror at what was about to happen coursing through me. His cock was slender towards the tip but rapidly thickened towards the base and his balls were like a couple of small eggs under the well maintained base of his cock. I found that I wasn't disgusted by it. In fact as cocks went it was wasn't a bad example, and I found myself strangely relieved. I watched as the shaft twitched in front of my face, seeming to grow with each movement. A pearly drop of liquid oozed from the tip.

"Open your mouth and push out your tongue." The command was quiet but forceful, and I obeyed its authority immediately as I would if he'd ordered me in the office to check out some numbers or paperwork, and I found myself wondering whether I would have sucked Jim's cock if he'd simply just told me to do it, even without the threat of what he'd discovered.

The tip of his cock touched my tongue and then the entire underside of his cockhead slid onto it, mixing the droplet of precum with my saliva. He rubbed it in a circle before lifting it and slapping it gently up and down on my tongue, and then pushed and drew it around my face, smearing juices as it went. He worked his cock around my whole face, rubbing, smearing, slapping until he lowered his balls one at a time into my open mouth, telling me to suck and lick as he flicked his rapidly hardening shaft up the length of my upturned face.

After several minutes of having each ball rolling around in my mouth and the cock slapping my face becoming steadily harder, the balls were suddenly removed and replaced once again by his cockhead, by now thick with arousal and slick with precum, but this time, in one fluid push of his hips, he slid his cock into my mouth until the tip just about ticked the back of my throat. I gagged slightly and tried to pull away but his hand clasped the back of my head and held it in place.

"Look at me." Jim ordered from above me. My eyes, wide and brimming with tears from my gagging and humiliation, stared up at him, my lips stretched thin around his swollen shaft, my entire mouth filled with his warm, flexing, pulsating flesh.

"Now," he continued, the cigar clamped between his teeth "I'm going to fuck this pretty little mouth of yours, and I'm going to do it until I cum, so the better you take it, the quicker it'll go." He drained another gulp of scotch and then placed the glass on the desk.

"Now I haven't decided yet where I'm going to cum, but wherever that ends up being you're going to take it like a good boy, understand? If I empty my balls over your face I expect you to kneel there and take every spurt. If I unload in this hot mouth of yours I expect you to swallow every drop of seed. And you'd better fucking pray that you make me cum somehow, because if you don't I'm going to bend you over this desk and raw fuck your hole until I breed you like a girl."

And so it began.

When he said he was going to fuck my mouth, he certainly didn't simply stand there and just piston his dick in and out of my mouth, although for the first minute or so that's exactly what he did, having an amazing ability to plunge his cock into my mouth to the very point where I'd be about to gag, and then withrdaw it for the next thrust. My lips tingled and numbed at the steady rapid rub of his veined flesh sliding past them. But soon he dropped back into his seat, his cock slipping out and leaving a string of saliva and precum between my lips and the tip. He picked up his scotch and relit his cigar, let his thighs fall open and ordered me to "work it".

I didn't hesitate this time. It wasn't just the power of blackmail that Jim had over me. There was something too about his demeanour and the tone of his voice that multiplied the respect that I had for him (and the shame I felt at my thefts from him) to a level approaching a feeling of subservience. I just wanted to please him. To make him happy with me.

I still nervously took his cock in my hands, what was so familiar when my own cock was in my hands now felt totally alien as I slid my hands up and down Jim's saliva-slick shaft. Under regular terse tuition and instruction over the next quarter of an hour my hands and mouth worked him, following his every command. Licking and kissing up and down the shaft from balls to tip. Choking myself on his cock. Suckling on the tip. Sucking his balls while he squeezed precum over my face. Working the base with one hand, cupping his balls in the other, with my mouth working the rest. There seemed no end to the imaginative ways Jim could think of for his cock to invade my mouth.

Finally, when my jaw ached and my chin was dripping with saliva and precum, his cock was pulled from my mouth.

"Strip. Unless you want your suit covered in cum stains tomorrow at the conference."

I stayed on the floor, pulling my clothes off at his feet as he unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt, letting his suit trousers hit the floor. His briefs followed, and he stepped out of them both and walked slowly around me, looking down at my naked kneeling form and stroking his cock. He stopped in front of me and told me to take my hands away from my cock, which I'd been trying to cover - partly from shame and partly to hide the obvious semi-arousal that my cock was showing.

"Hmmm... not bad. Although a big dick like that isn't much use to you now is it? The only action that's going to see is if you wank it off yourself. In fact there's a thought. Do it. Wank yourself for me. I want to see how your hands work on your own cock. Get your knees and thighs apart. I want a good view."

As I knelt there, leaning back on one hand while the other worked at my cock, Jim stroked own cock, his hand sliding freely up and down the shaft as his eyes roamed over me. Occasionally he'd step forward and slide his cock into my mouth for a few thrusts before withdrawing, or slap his cock around my face, all the while murmuring obscenties down at me, telling me I was a worthless cocksucker, that he only kept me on in the company for my cocksucking ability, that I was a sissy and a faggot who was born to suck his dick. All the while I worked my cock nearer and nearer to climax, finding his domination of me not wholly humiliating but instead it awakening in me a thrill of submissiveness that I felt I must have always supressed.

"Fuck, you love it don't you?" he grunted, his hand starting to wank himself faster and faster. "Fucking slut."

I closed my eyes and a small whimper of confirmation escaped my lips as I started to feel the orgasm building in my balls.

"Fuck yes. Fuck yesssss." he seethed "Here it comes boy. Open your fucking whore mouth."

I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter and my mouth fell open, gasping freely as my cock started to twitch and my balls tightened.

Then Jim let out a long groan and I felt the first spurt of warm fluid spatter across my face, from my chin to my forehead, splashing onto my tongue as it went. My own climax burst through me as Jim's second spurt coated my right cheek, and I hardly even noticed the rest as I jerked my own load in a rapid shuttle of my fist over the hotel carpet. I just remember being amazed at the sheer quantity of sperm that was being liberally deposited all over my upturned face, dripping into my eyes, coating my tongue, sliding down my cheeks, even blocking one nostril. I'd seen porn of facials before and always been mildly disgusted by some smiling girl dripping cum down her face, and yet here I was, with a face so covered that I probably put a lot of those girls to shame.

As we both began to descend from the heights of our orgasms, Jim rubbed his cock around my cum-soaked face, smearing it around and wiping the cum from his cock on my cheek to lie with the generous amount already there.

"Damn, boy" he breathed, sliding his cock in and out of my still-open mouth "I haven't cum like that in a long time. Now. Swallow what's in your mouth, then go and get a towel and clean up the mess you've made."

I had been hoping that the cum that had spurted and spattered into my mouth might be forgotten about until I'd had a chance to spit it out, but now I swallowed dutifully, the warm fluid almost seeming to cling to and coat my throat as it slid down.

I stood shakily, my knees and legs protesting at the long period of kneeling, and stumbled to the bathroom. I immediately caught sight of myself in the mirror, my face a mess of saliva and semen, and my cheeks flushed a deep red of shame. I fetched the towel and wiped the residue from my face, then returned to the room to crouch naked on the floor and scrape and mop at my own streaks of cum on the carpet.

Jim was sitting back in his seat, the cigar back in his mouth, the drink in his hand and his cock and balls back in his trousers.

"You're lucky I don't make you lick that up." He said, watching me with a mixture of superiority and disdain. "Now when you've finished I'll allow you go and wash yourself up. What do you say?"

"T-t-thank you."

"Thank you what?"

"S-s-sir" I stammered "Thank you sir."

I returned to the bathroom and dropped the soiled towel on the floor, closing the door and leaning back on it, my breath coming in shallow gasps. All I could taste in my mouth was cum, and I could feel the remnants of it drying on my face.

I stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away the traces of it and hopefully my shame, which still pulse through me as the main emotion, along with my guilt, both emotions centered on my discovered theft and the feelings of reluctant enjoyment I'd experienced during my ordeal. That I'd enjoyed being under Jim's control. That this older man made me feel submissive... younger... almost feminine, and enjoyed feeling all three. And surely I wouldnt have so readily cum if I hadn't enjoyed it? I let out a little whimpering groan as my mind tested my supposedly straight orientation and found it distinctly lacking, and Jim's "cocksucker" insult echoed in my mind. I was a cocksucker. Any real man would have told him to phone the police and go fuck himself. I'd been on my knees in seconds. Maybe it's what I'd wanted all along? To suck cock? My mind reeled with confusion and doubt as I soaped the water over my body, watching the water run from the tip of my cock. I'd always been proud to show my cock to a new girlfriend, but now its size seemed to just mock me. Jim was right - what good was a big cock when you were on your knees sucking cock like a faggot?