The following story is a work of depraved and perverted fiction that's only purpose is to serve as pornography for the twisted pleasures of some less refined and dignified readers. The written prose makes no attempts to reflect whatever may be hidden in the human soul and, most importantly, it is not an endorsement of non-consensual and truly dangerous behaviors. Although some acts committed in this story may be presented as non-consensual, they are only presented as such for the erotic and fetishistic pleasure of the audience within the understood framework of fictitious pornography. The author of this story strongly believes that any non-consenual sexual acts committed by one person to another are indefensible and should not go unpunished. If any readers are disturbed by the nature of the following content, they are advised to cease further reading.
Chapter 1 All Tied Up at Work
To be quite frank, I did not need money when I decided to interview for that position. I was well enough off to have my own apartment in the city, which I know many are not fortunate enough to have and I of course had to have a well paying job to afford it. But there was something so enticing about that posting I'd found online. Looking for a house-boy it said. Full-time position. Wages to be discussed. Now what on Earth could that sort of thing entail? The job description seemed to suggest my work could involve cleaning, some sort of service, and aiding in the pleasure of my would-be employers. That seemed all well and good but it isn't what got me interested in that job. To be honest--and this is somewhat embarrassing to say--the reason I wanted this job was because of my potential bosses. I had only seen one picture of them that went along with the job posting (and it was quite a small and low quality picture at that) but they seemed to be the kinds of people I wanted to work around.
They were a couple of high-life socialites living in a condo above the clouds. The man seemed tall, lean, and muscular with olive skin, and his wife or perhaps girlfriend was slightly shorter and larger--buxom if you will--with long dark hair and even darker skin than her partner's. They seemed to be somewhere in their early thirties which to me--a young man of twenty-one--meant they were very wise and likely mature. Anyone who owned such a nice house at that age had to have some sort of wisdom to them. And with me being a young man still, I felt I was perfectly suited for the position of "house-boy". So I sent in my resume and waited for a response.
The response came soon enough and before I knew it, I was off to have my first interview. I wanted to look nice for my bosses so I put on a button up shirt with short sleeves and some brown dress pants. I would have preferred to wear long sleeves so as to not show off my nimble arms but all of my long sleeve shirts were in the wash. In any case, I left my apartment that day as chipper as a machine shredding wood and arrived at the home of my superiors nearly five minutes early. I had to take a long elevator ride to get up there and I was not excited about having to take that same long trip down. This interview should take long enough for me to forget that initial ride and give me much to think about on the ride down, I thought. That sort of thinking was typical to me I supposed, always peering to the bright side.
I got to the door of the condo and knocked three times. Hardly a few seconds passed before the woman from the picture opened the door. Past her shoulders, I could see the condo--more decadent than I could have ever imagined--with space age furniture if the space age designers had never ceased to innovate and glass standing in for walls around the whole place that would have proved a nuisance for the homeowner's privacy had there been any buildings around tall enough to allow said privacy to be invaded. But I did not spend long looking around at the home, I must admit, because standing before me at the doorway was possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
"Hello, you must be Adam," she greeted with an unassuming smile.
I smiled back but I had no words. This woman was more buxom than that picture suggested. She was tall with ample breasts and strong shoulders that seemed to hold her breasts firmly within her thin, white, buttoned up blouse. Her face was similarly strong at the chin but the rest of her features were soft and round. Her brown skin was shining golden with the sun behind her and she had a wide behind and thick thighs that were toned despite their size. I could make out the whole shape of them through her tight black skirt and there was no hiding her strong legs either through her thin, dark brown stockings that she'd slipped into a short pair of leather boots that stopped right above her ankles.
"I'm Rosabel," she said after a silence I only later realized had been awkward. "Do you speak?" she asked politely.
"Um, y-yes. Hello, sorry. I'm Adam," I stammered, quite embarrassed that she would ask such a demeaning question. "I'm here to interview for the position of house-boy."
"Yes, I got your email," she said. "You seemed very eager, which is just the kind of person me and Oliver are looking for. Oliver's my husband if I forgot to mention that. He's just waiting in the office if you'd like to come and meet him."
"Yeah, alright, of course," I answered and I followed Rosabel through their home. I couldn't help myself from looking down at her ass as we walked; the way every step made her hips sway and the fabric of her skirt crease so that I could make out the outline of her panties. I was feeling quite happy with my decision to apply for this job then and I was quite confident that everything would go well until she turned around much quicker than I imagined she could and she caught my eyes jolting away from her butt and up to her eyes. I grinned sheepishly as if she hadn't noticed what I'd been ogling at but the way she smiled told me she had.
"Come in and have a seat," she said as she motioned me towards the office.
I nodded without saying a word since I was smart enough to know that any word I could say would only embarrass me further and I stepped into the room. There was a desk in front of a chair with another chair ahead of it that I was meant to sit on. Leaning on the desk was a tall and muscular man--slender like an Olympic swimmer--with olive coloured skin and an angular featured face. He had dark curly hair, an aquiline nose, and he was wearing a tight white shirt and gray dress pants.
"This is Oliver, my husband," Rosabel said.
"He's a skinny one, isn't he?" Oliver said to Rosabel without acknowledging me.
"I know. Just what we were hoping for," Rosabel replied.
She made her way around the desk and sat in the swivel chair. I followed suit and sat down at the chair facing her. Oliver didn't have a seat apparently so he simply stood behind me. I couldn't see him but I could feel his presence looming over.
"So, Adam," Rosabel began. "There are many jobs we expect you to do as a house-boy. Have you ever been a house-boy before?"
"No, never," I said. "I honestly had never heard of the job before I saw the posting for the position online."
"Well, the job really is only known to those in high society," she explained. "And I can tell you don't really belong to high society."
"No, well, I--" I should have been offended by that subtle jab but something else was catching my attention. Rosabel had unbuttoned the top button of her blouse and as she was speaking she began brushing it aside to reveal her glorious brown cleavage. I tried to keep my eyes on Rosabel's face but I could not keep my gaze from wandering down.
She began playing with the loose button of her blouse as she said, "What your job will entail, Adam, is plenty of cleaning whenever it's asked of you--"
I nodded, hardly hearing the words as my eyes continued to waver from Rosabel's eyeline.
"--and other household duties as well. Whether that be acting as furniture, acting as a pony--drawing a carriage and the like--I'm sure you understand."
"Yes...yes...pony..."
"And pleasure, that is possibly the most important part of the job."
