Note: This story contains BDSM themes. It was edited by TuckerMcCallahan; thank you for your work! Comments are always appreciated!
*
Standing in the stranger's doorway, Billy's courage failed him. What was he doing here?
The entrance space opened to a living space with an open kitchen. The interior of the apartment was familiar. Little had changed since Bill had broken in, many weeks ago. The furniture was tastefully selected. Books in several languages lined neat shelves. Large mysterious oil paintings hung on the wall, obviously chosen with great care. But even though all items in the apartment were clearly valuable, there actually wasn't much to steal for a clueless, run-of-the-mill burglar. That had been a source of great frustration back then; remembering that night now, Bill blushed, ashamed of his actions.
Not knowing what to expect and suddenly overcome with shyness, Bill looked around nervously until his eyes randomly focused on a fruit bowl on the counter of the open kitchen. Amongst the oranges, bananas, and apples were at least two kinds of fruit Bill had never even seen before.
"Ten minutes stretching exercises, boy. Now."
The man hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't barked, or threatened. He certainly hadn't asked. He had just calmly said it. There was a quiet authority to his words, as if he were simply stating an undisputed fact.
Without hesitation, Billy went about his post work-out stretch routine. Only now he became aware of how necessary that was after the extended run across town. While his fingertips were down at his ankles, he heard the sound of a knife being whetted from the direction of the kitchen. The fridge opened and closed, something was getting chopped on a board, an egg was broken and beaten. Bill realized that he was starving.
"Ok, boy. Now, take off your clothes."
Billy looked up at the man. He was standing at the edge of the open kitchen, the partly prepared dish left on the counter behind him. Mr. Xen's face was relaxed and attentive.
Several contradicting thoughts scrambled around in Billy's head, each one darting out of reach the moment he tried to properly think it. Ignoring the tumult in his mind, Bill took off his musky T-shirt. Instinctively, he put a bit of tension into his abs, as he felt the man's gaze on his naked torso; he wanted to be handsome to his Master. He slid off his sneakers and his socks. His sweatpants. One last article of clothing left to go.
One final moment of hesitation. He glanced at the stranger, who stood there, watching him in silence. Finally, Billy dropped his sweat-stained boxers and stood there stark naked. His small penis was already half erect.
The seconds dripped thick and slow like molasses. Billy kept staring straight ahead; he could sense the man walking around him, inspecting his body from every angle. Billy had gone rock hard, and he couldn't keep from blushing. Yet there was an unspeakable sweetness in being so exposed, so completely vulnerable, before this powerful man. Bill stood upright and tense, showing off every well-trained muscle of his body, feeling pride that at least he had this to offer, if little else. He was ready. Ready to drop to his knees at the slightest hint, ready to do anything, give everything, for his Master's pleasure.
"Good boy. Go take a shower."
That was not what Bill was expecting. He really wanted to -- he really wanted to suck cock! His face must have shown the disappointment, as the man started laughing:
"Oh, for Christ's sake, there's going to be more than enough time for that, you little whore. Now, go take a shower, you reek like a dog!"
There was no harshness in the man's voice, only warmth and a relaxed sense of authority that didn't need to prove itself. Bill quickly moved towards the bathroom, feeling childish and embarrassed. He stood underneath the shower, washing away the sweat and grime. He could feel his Master watching, which gave him a feeling of contentment. By the time Billy was clean and dry again, Xen had gone back to the kitchen to finish preparing the meal.
Some kind of delicious omelette-sandwich creation, with a fresh herb Billy had never tasted before ("coriander" he would later learn), rested on a square plate. He dug in, sitting naked at the kitchen table.
"This is the first and last time I'm serving you food, boy. From now on, it will be the other way 'round."
Billy nodded with trepidation. He didn't have the skills to prepare proper food, let alone meals good enough for such a sophisticated man. Well, he would have to learn, he decided. Anything to please Master Xen.
"When you're finished, clean up the kitchen. Throw your clothes into that basket over there. Then brush your teeth and go to bed," Xen said, then unceremoniously disappeared into a separate room (some kind of artist's workshop, Billy knew from his first time here). The lock on the door clicked behind him.
Suddenly alone, Billy chewed on the last bites of his sandwich. Then, in the quiet, his thoughts started racing again.
Master Xen hadn't even asked him why he was here. What if he found out about the debt problems, about Rizzo, about just how useless a piece of shit Bill really was? Would he kick him out? Or worse, what if Xen didn't care about all that at all? What if all this was just some cheap fling for him, over by tomorrow?
And what about the fact that, it turned out, Billy was one eager, obedient, cock-hungry faggot? That was one hell of a bomb to drop, the more he thought about it.
And it explains a whole lotta shit, too,
