The Farmer Pt 01

The boy woke up in a daze, his head was pounding from what he could only assume was a bad hangover from the night before. His surroundings were unfamiliar to him; it was a dimly lit waiting room of some kind. His memories of the previous night were fuzzy, but he remembered being at a bar just a ways out of town, and chatting up a rather handsome middle-aged man in a leather jacket.

He heard a metal door nearby unlock, and a shirtless and rugged man stepped through the doorway, and approached him. He grabbed the boy, and despite his most strenuous protest, was dragged through the door into another room, this time brightly lit.

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Dominic was like every other rural boy his age. At the fine age of 22, he had a semblance of a six-pack with large biceps and thighs, a farm worker. A regular redneck, he donned his favorite camo hat, torn up jeans, well-seasoned work boots, and a homemade tank top of his favorite country band that gave onlookers a tantalizing tease of his nipples and showed off his thick blond armpit hair. A farmer's tan graced his skin, the sun-kissed glow of a hard-working boy.

Working for his neighbor on his farm, Dominic could do it all; driving the tractor in the fields was probably his favorite, because he could strip down to skin on the hotter days. The farm was large, and Dominic would often sneak out behind the barn to stroke his thick 8-inch meat to a massive orgasm on his breaks.

He had never really seen the farmer before, only catching a quick glimpse of him as he left the main house to get into his truck and leave to someplace unknown in the mornings. He was almost never home even when Dominic left for the evening as the sunset reflected in his pretty blue eyes through the windshield of his truck.

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One particular night, Dominic had a bit more energy than he normally does after a day in the August heat. Right after work, he hopped into his truck and headed over to his favorite bar, one of the only places to socialize in the endless fields and forests of his hometown.

He found himself a seat at the bar, and ordered his usual, Jack Daniels. He still winces at the sting of the whiskey as it flows down his throat, but he finds himself growing accustomed to the drink, and begins to unwind as he feels it start to go to his head. He eyes a man sitting over at one of the tables in the back, in a quiet corner of the room, and decides to chat him up.

Dominic has always seen himself as a straight man, though has caught himself lightly flirting with other guys when he's tipsy. Tonight was one of those nights, and the man at the table seemed particularly inviting in his altered state. The man saw him approaching, and lifted an eyebrow at the boy, with a slight shimmer in his eye.

"How's it going?" Dominic heartily belted as he plopped himself down onto the chair, straddling it in a cocky fashion.

"Not too bad, yourself?" the man firmly and gruffly asked back, eyeing the boy from head to toe. He had an air of dominance around him, a trait that Dominic found to be very attractive and intriguing.

The man had an old and worn leather jacket on, with an American flag patch on the right shoulder, and a patch that had an unfamiliar symbol on it. It was the symbol of the male sex, but it was altered in such a way that it looked like it was held in place by restraints of some kind.

"What's that symbol on your jacket?" Dominic queried, fascinated by the mysterious and imposing aura that the man was giving off. His cologne was intoxicating in its own way, and the boy found himself leaning in a little closer to catch a stronger whiff of it.

"Don't worry about it. What brings you here, boy?"

Dominic felt butterflies in his stomach, he had a soft spot for being called boy by men like him. Stuttering a little from the unexpected rush of arousal, he replied. "Uh, not much. Just trying to relax after work. Thought I would stop by the bar on my way home."

"You live nearby, boy?"

"Y-yes, sir," Dominic was becoming quite flustered between the alcohol and the man seemingly intentionally charming him with his words, immediately catching on to Dominic's submissive side.

"What do you do for work, boy?"

"I-I work on a farm up the road a ways, sir. I've never really seen the farmer before though. I don't know his name. He's never home."

"What a coincidence, boy. I own a farm around here as well. What's your name, boy?"

"Dominic, sir. What's yours?"

"Well, I suppose now you'll know my name. I'm Butch. Butch Callaway. I own the farm you work at."

Upon hearing this, Dominic realized that he did recognize the truck in the parking lot of the bar, and did remember seeing the American flag patch being worn by the man who would leave the farm early in the morning.

"It's nice to finally meet you, sir! I'm sorry that I didn't recognize you, it's just that we've never met in person before," Dominic quickly stated, turning red in the face.

"No worries, boy. The pleasure is mutual. Your father arranged for you to work for me, so there was never really any reason to meet until now, I suppose. Forgive me if I am pushing boundaries here, but I must say that you are quite an attractive boy," Butch said as he continued to undress Dominic with his eyes.

Dominic was becoming ever more aroused by the minute, so much so that his cock had already created a wet patch in his jeans from precum.

"How about a few more drinks on me, boy? I would love to get to know you better," Butch mused as he could tell Dominic was already under his thumb.