Career Day

Usual disclaimers apply. Please let me know your thoughts on the story, but if it is criticism try to make it constructive. Additionally, if you find yourself similar to Philip and are a normally alpha guy during the day that would love to submit to a younger guy, please message me.

***

Josh had been looking forward to career day, even more than usual. In his first three years at ORHS, he had considered it interesting, a break from the usual routine, far better than another boring day of Mr. Boole lecturing about a bunch of mathematical crap no one would ever use. Now that he was a senior, facing the prospect of choosing a profession, the event had taken on greater significance.

The choices had been accounting, veterinary medicine, and nuclear physics. Josh was no dummy, but he just didn't care which way electrons spin and how attracted they were to protons, nor was he excited by the prospect of four years of college followed by at least that many more in graduate school. No, a Ph.D. in physics was simply not in the cards; the National Laboratory would just have to carry on its research without him. Josh liked animals, but living in a small town, he knew that specializing in cats and dogs wouldn't be sufficient to make a good living. He would have to travel out into the country, helping sick horses and stuff, and he was allergic to manure.

That explains how Josh met Mr. Peabody. Sitting close to the back of the room, warmer than it should have been by several degrees, packed with so many chairs the fire marshal would have had the place evacuated had he known, noticing perspiration begin to drip under his arms, Josh barely raised his head when the man with brown hair, wearing a crisp new gray suit and a red tie, walked in, briefcase in hand, accompanied by Mrs. Atkinson.

"This here's Mr. Peabody, y'all," she oozed. "He's a senior partner with the accounting firm of Jones, Smith and Brezinski, LLP, specializing in audits of scientific and technology companies with annual revenues between $1 million and $5 million."

Mr. Peabody placed the monogrammed leather briefcase on the desk and pulled out a thin manila folder. "Good afternoon," he said, calmly measuring his audience. "I'm going to talk a few minutes about what I do, then I'll be happy to take questions."

As Mr. Peabody regaled his youthful audience with stories about expense accounts and IRS audits, Josh straightened up in his seat. Something about the man caught his eye, beyond the impeccably fitted suit. Clearly he was executive material – confident, articulate, knowledgeable. He obviously worked out, sporting solid shoulders and a waist that couldn't have exceeded 33 inches, not bad for a man Josh estimated to be forty years old, maybe forty five tops. He found himself straining to detect whether there was a ring on Mr. Peabody's left hand. He didn't spot one but couldn't be sure from the distance. If there wasn't, well, what were the possibilities? His mind wandered, and he began to feel movement just below his waist.

"And that brings my prepared remarks to a close," Mr. Peabody concluded. "I'll be happy to stay a few minutes in case anyone has a question."

Most of the students left hurriedly, heading for the cafeteria, eager to feed their growing bodies. Josh lingered. It's not that he wasn't hungry; it was a question of what he was hungry for. "That was pretty interesting, Mr. Peabody. I've actually thought about becoming an accountant." He wished that Mrs. Atkinson would drift further away, but she didn't.

"A noble profession, young man. And if you work hard, you can even save a few bucks at the end of the month." He smiled broadly, revealing perfect white teeth, and his eyes darted away from Josh's face long enough to take in the powerful body of a young man in his prime. When they returned, they were burning with revelation. "Say, we sometimes offer internships to students interested in our field. Are you a senior by any chance?"

"Yes, I am."

"Perfect, just perfect. Might you be, umm, interested in something that would keep you occupied over the summer?" Josh surmised that Mr. Peabody had mastered the art of the double entendre.

"Well, Mr. Peabody, I suppose I might. Yes, I just might."

"You see, Philip, I told you that Career Day was worth your effort," Mrs. Atkinson gushed enthusiastically. "Sometimes it actually changes students' lives."

"Yes," Mr. Peabody replied, "I can see that. We might just have an example right here in front of us." He produced a business card and handed it to Josh. "Call me," he said. "You definitely should call me."

Josh did call, and a lunch was promptly arranged for the following Thursday. Mr. Peabody seemed quite eager, Josh noticed, inquiring solicitously what kind of food he preferred and where he might feel most comfortable. He couldn't help wondering whether, below the executive exterior, whether Mr. Peabody might enjoy being told what to do.

Mr. Peabody arrived at Burchfield's, in the Garden Plaza Hotel, wearing a different suit – charcoal, with thin vertical stripes and broad lapels – and a tie that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be maroon or red, connected to a bright white shirt with a diamond-laced tie tac. "Have anything you like, young man," Mr. Peabody smiled. "That's what expense accounts are for."

"And this one is legal right?" Josh smiled back, remembering an essential point from the Career Day lecture.

"It is if you are."

It took Josh a minute to realize Mr. Peabody was asking a question. "Oh, quite legal. I'll be nineteen next March." His heart approached warp speed – his suspicions had been correct! "Legal, willing, and eager."

A waiter appeared. He and Mr. Peabody appeared to have at least a casual acquaintance. "How's the herb-crusted filet of salmon today, Todd?"

"Tasty as usual, sir."

"Then that's what I'll have. Definitely in the mood for something tasty." His foot moved forward and rested lightly on Josh's toe. "How about you, young man, in the mood for something tasty?"

"Yes, indeed."

"And what is it you'd like for lunch?"

"The salmon will be just fine, thank you."

They engaged in casual conversation for the next ten minutes, as the waiter brought waters, bread, and salads, then hovered closer than a waiter ought to hover. Josh felt relieved when he went into the kitchen to check on the entrees.

"You know, Mr. Peabody, I can't help noticing that you look very handsome in that business suit."

"Well, thank you. And please call me Philip." He took a long drink of water, looking over the top of the glass carefully at Josh, measuring something that wasn't immediately apparent. "And you're quite a hunk yourself, if you don't mind my saying so."

Josh answered by rubbing his foot on Philip's leg under the table. "Well, thank

you

. And please call me Josh – in public."

With an opening that wide, Philip decided to throw caution to the wind. "And what would you like to be called in private?"

Josh gulped, not certain that he hadn't bitten off more than Philip would be willing to chew. But he stood at the precipice – he had purposely led them to the precipice – and it was now or never. "Sir will be just fine, Philip. In private, you may call me Sir."

The waiter returned with two large plates, crowded with vegetables and parsley, and a beautiful sauce adorning shapely pieces of fish. "Will there be anything else, Mr. Peabody?"

"No, Todd, that's looks great." He glanced at Josh, then continued. "Just let us have a leisurely lunch, all right?"

Todd gave him a look that no waiter should ever give a customer, especially in a fine restaurant, but what came out of his mouth had an entirely different tenor. "Of course, enjoy your meal." He glanced at Josh hastily, and his transparent smile disappeared before he had taken two complete steps.

"Now, let's see, where were we?" Philip asked rhetorically, returning his full attention to Josh. "Oh yes, you'd like to be called Sir." He paused, then smiled. "I see you are not one to beat around the bush. I like that in a young man. Indeed, I like that very much. 'Sir' it shall be – in private."

They both turned to the task at hand, then, which was to take pleasure in the elegant meal before them, enhanced by the mutual rubbing of feet and lower legs under the table. As it turned out, they were both more than adequate in the skill of small talk, and fifteen minutes passed effortlessly. Todd returned when he saw that both plates were empty. "Would either of you care for dessert?"

Philip looked at Josh with dancing eyes. "Well, shall we have dessert, umm, Josh?"

Josh was ready. Just because he was half Philip's age didn't mean he couldn't hold his own in the double entendre department. "We should

definitely

have dessert. But not here."

Mr. Peabody looked at Todd triumphantly. "I guess not, Todd. Just the check please."

A few minutes later, the check arrived. It seemed to Josh that Todd almost slammed it down on the table in front of Mr. Peabody, who observed the inappropriate gesture but didn't comment on it directly. He drew a crisp $50 bill from his wallet and placed it on the table. "Shall we go?"

Josh had taken several steps toward the front of the restaurant before he noticed that Philip wasn't directly behind him. In fact, Philip had headed in the other direction and was waiting at the restaurant's other entrance, off the hotel lobby. He gestured for Josh to follow him.

"Where are we going?" Josh inquired once they were walking in the same direction.

"My company has a suite in the hotel, reserved for our out-of-town clients. I don't think there's anyone using it at the moment. Would you like to see?"

Josh might as well have been asked whether he wanted to win five million dollars, tax free. He put his hand on Philip's shoulder and squeezed. A minute later they were in the elevator.

"Ah, here we are," Philip said, sliding the plastic key card he had removed from his wallet, holding the door open for Josh to enter. Philip put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob facing the hall and locked the door behind him.

Josh noticed the plush carpet immediately, then took stock of the living room portion of the corporate suite. An upholstered couch pushed against the side wall, flanked by end tables and luxurious lamps, faced a large plasma screen TV. A picture window overlooked the swimming pool, and a wet bar, small but apparently well stocked, fit neatly into one corner. Philip moved through an open door, with Josh close behind. A gigantic king-size bed dominated the room, along with another window, this time partially hidden by thick curtains capable of shutting out all light from the exterior. Philip looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the door to the bathroom, then turned to Josh. "You like?"

"How much time do we have?" Josh asked.

Philip glanced at his watch. "Not much, I'm afraid. I scheduled a 3 p.m. conference back at the office."

Josh pulled the curtains shut and turned on one of the bedside lamps. "Time enough to teach you some manners, anyway, or rules if you want to call them that. Get on your knees!" Philip complied, and added a subservient touch of his own by putting his wrists behind his back. "Good," Josh commented, "but shouldn't there be a verbal response as well?"

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

"You're allowed mistakes, but don't make the same one twice. Got that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I like seeing executives all dressed up with no place to go – unless I give them permission!"

"I had you spotted within ten minutes of beginning my talk in that stuffy classroom."

"Well, lucky me. Now stand up and remove your pants."

"Yes, Sir." Philip placed the trousers on the bed neatly.

"Now the briefs."

"Yes, Sir." Philip stepped out of crisp white cotton briefs and placed them on the bed as well." His genitals were still hidden by the long tails of his dress shirt.

"No underpants from now on, ever, under any conditions."

Philip hesitated. "But Sir, I work in a sensitive environment. I'm always around people, sometimes giving formal talks with colleagues, business partners, prospective clients."

"They won't notice. This is not negotiable."

"If you say so, Sir."

Displaying more maturity than his years might normally suggest, Josh always debated the wisdom of his commands. He knew what he wanted, and if his slaves didn't comply at least minimally, then he lost interest. On the other hand, he understood that pushing too hard, or too quickly, might disrupt a fragile relationship and prevent it from blossoming. "You're reluctant, I hear it in your voice."

"That's true, Sir, I won't deny it."

"You'll see. These here..." and he picked up Philip's underpants "...are not leaving this room. You won't have time to go to the store on your way back to the office, so you'll conduct that 3 o'clock meeting without them. And unless you get red in the face, nobody will ever know." Josh tossed the underpants on the bed, crossed the room, and lifted the receiver from the telephone on the end table. "What's the room number here?" he asked Philip, simultaneously dialing the front desk.

"231, Sir."

Josh spoke into the phone. "I need a scissors in 231, right away. Doesn't have to be huge, just any ordinary scissors will do." He hung up and sprang athletically across the bed, sitting down near the man who was becoming his slave. "Okay, lie down over my knee."

Philip hesitated only a micro-second, then assumed the position as ordered. Then quickly, remembering he was only allowed to make a mistake once, he added authoritatively, "Yes, Sir."

"Now for that dessert," Josh stated confidently, and he proceeded to use his bare hand on Philip's rear end. Eventually, the twitching caused by each additional blow became pronounced, as the skin reddened. A knock on the door spelled relief for the man who was experiencing his first spanking in about thirty-five years.

"Back on your knees." Josh went to the door and returned with a pair of scissors, which he handed to Philip, along with the briefs. "Okay, you know what to do. Get busy." Philip looked at Josh plaintively, asking with his face what he knew he shouldn't do with his mouth. "Get busy!" Josh commanded, and Philip, sensing the inevitable, cut the briefs into little pieces. "Throw them away. There's a trash can in the bathroom." When Philip returned, he knelt before Josh, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel now, slave?"

Philip looked down at the floor and didn't reply immediately.

"Look right at me and tell me how you feel!"

A tear trickled down Philip's right cheek. "Very small, Sir. I feel very small and powerless."

Josh knew that the cry, although minimal, was a good sign. "You

are

small, boy,

and

powerless, and frankly not much more than a worthless piece of shit. You are only what I say you can be. You'll get used to it. Won't you, boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Now you may stand up and put your pants back on. You'll just have time to get to your meeting."

Philip complied, and as he did so an awareness came over him – a sense that he had met his match, that Josh had the stature and the fortitude to become the Master he had always fantasized about.

"Here, let me help you fix that tie." Josh pulled on the knot to solidify it and pushed it to dead center. Then he gave Philip a hug, wrapping both arms around his back and squeezing gently, followed by a kiss on the cheek. "You'll make a very good slave. Now let's get you back to work." As they entered the elevator, Todd exited, apparently on a room service call. He and Philip exchanged a somber glance. "What the hell is going on between you two?" Josh asked.

"We've spent some time together," Philip replied noncommittally.

"Is that a fact? Well, he's a pretty nice looking boy."

"Yes, Sir, that he is."

"He doesn't strike me as the dominant sort. Too jealous. Too temperamental."

"He goes either way."

"Good. We'll just have to get together with him some time, won't we boy?"

"If you say so, Sir."

During the next two weeks, Josh and Philip met every other day. At the beginning, due to Philip's crowded work schedule, they had as little as half an hour together. But he instructed his appointments secretary to begin leaving two-hour blocks free as much as possible, so as time passed their sessions increased in both length and intensity. In addition, Philip was essentially "on call" during evenings and weekends.

If "opposites attract," as the old saying goes, then Josh and Philip were as far apart as the remote corners of the Milky Way. The former, with his trim 30 inch waist and shapely, muscular shoulders, admired the latter for his life experience, his success in the business world, and his obvious attraction to men in their prime – like himself. Sure, Josh enjoyed the occasional elegant meal, hosted by his more well-to-do counterpart, but he was not focused on money; as far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong with pizza and hamburgers. His interests were far more mature and infinitely more complex. He hungered for obedience – the sights and sounds of a man twice his age giving up his independence, his ego, his sense of self-worth – and the sense of mastery that overcame him when he succeeded in breaking the man's spirit. And then, having made the man humble himself to the point of tears and beg for a scrap of human decency, he would relent sometimes, allowing the man to crawl into bed with him and cuddle. Yes, he sometimes thought, humiliation, sex, and cuddling form a powerful threesome.

Philip, on the other hand, had to work hard to maintain his 33 inch waist, and his biceps just about disappeared if he didn't work out regularly. Not much physical energy is required, after all, to push keys on the computer keyboard and discuss the fine points of tax law with clients who would rather have a martini than an energy bar. He admired young men for their looks, sure, but also for their spontaneity, their fresh if somewhat superficial view of the world, and their adolescent confidence. Inexplicably, for an executive, he was drawn to those who enjoyed exercising control – those who knew what they wanted and took no shit from anyone. He yearned for men whose youthful exuberance and energy for devising outlandish punishments and symbols of submission were mitigated only by enough common sense to keep things from getting out of hand. And he had found such a man in Josh.

For the most part, these "opposites" spent their time together exploring their mutual desires, both sexual and psychological. Philip quickly learned the rituals Josh expected of him – kissing his feet whenever he entered a room and just prior to ending their sessions; remaining naked on his knees (or hands and knees) unless permission to stand was granted; using language that was properly respectful of his Master (referring to him frequently as "Sir," and increasingly as "Master Josh" as their relationship deepened); and providing sexual satisfaction.

On those rare occasions when Philip rebelled, even momentarily, forgetting that his new role in life was simply to please Josh in every possible way, he paid a heavy price. Josh was adept at punishment and humiliation, subscribing to the philosophy that slaves will attempt to recover a mile of respect if permitted an inch of freedom, and he therefore imposed rigorous consequences on the mildest of transgressions. "Don't smile until Christmas," one of his high school teachers had confided in him, when asked how he managed to control an unruly class of scheming sophomores, and that advice applied to an entirely different situation had served him well. On one occasion, Philip failed to kiss Josh's feet upon entering the hotel suite. He spent the next two hours naked, on his knees, with his hands behind his back, blindfolded with his own handkerchief, holding a small piece of stationary to the wall with his nose, while Josh relaxed on the bed, watching television and ensuring that his slave didn't allow the paper to fall. Four days later, he failed to call Josh at a pre-arranged hour to confirm their meeting; after beginning the session by drinking half a glass of his own warm piss, he was forced to remain as motionless as possible on his hands and knees, once again naked and blindfolded, with strict instructions that if he moved excessively, he would have to repeat the process the following day. (With the remaining half glass of piss placed in the middle of his back, the liquid became a sensitive if not excessively sophisticated monitoring device.) Josh was not reluctant to impose mild pain as well, and although spanking was part of their regular ritual, the intensity varied depending on how compliant Philip had been during or since the last session. For behavior that Josh considered to be especially egregious (an event that occurred only once), he discovered that two clothes pins properly situated on Philip's body for about five minutes turned the latter into the whimpering, compliant slave that was fast becoming his destiny.