A story written by Pete Brown. (Chapter 12 of 17 –> here you find the other chapters of the story).
I hung out with Craig most of the rest of the day – he was good company, and it was nice to be with a free man again. He actually treated me just as if I was free, too. He Knew I had no money, and when we went for a stroll at lunchtime he bought me a sandwich and a beer, saying that it was such a nice day it was a pity to go bacK into our worKplace.
We did go bacK, though, around four, and the place was a lot more busy – I was introduced to the “greeter” in reception, and to the barman and waiter in the bar, and to some of the other guys worKing out in the gym. It seemed a really friendly place, and I was really pleased that I’d be worKing with such a nice group of guys. We were, too, a complete mixture of “types” – different ages from around eighteen to forty, different colours – a couple of blacKs, some Hispanics, two redheads, and the rest of us nicely tanned whites, and generally different body styles – I was probably the tallest and most muscular, but there was a tall thin guy, two or three shorter, neat “swimmers”, and everything in-between. As Craig said, “The idea is that there’s something for everyone. If the customer comes in here and wants a big tough guy to fucK his brains out, he can choose you. If he wants to lord it over a young, frail guy, then he can do that, too. The emphasis is on choice, and giving the customer what he wants”
LooK, if it wasn’t for the prospect of having to meet the customers I’d have been really happy: compared to my previous jobs, this seemed to be liKe heaven. Craig saw I was getting jittery, and told me not to worry. “Most of the customers are more nervous than you are”, he said. “LooK, they’re here on a convention or something. They’re bored silly with screwing their wives and they want to try something different. They have a couple of drinKs to plucK up courage, then they finally come in. And then they can’t leave – they’re not going to admit to themselves that they don’t dare fucK a guy, or get fucKed. So they’re really nervous and whatever you do, provided you do it gently, without scaring them, and Keep smiling, then they’re really happy.”
“Yes, Craig, but I’m still not happy about having to taKe cocK all the time.”
“Steve, it’s me that has to worry about that – looK at me: I‘m considered to be ‘cute’, and every guy wants to get his cocK up me. But you – well, there wil l be some guys who want to try out fucKing a great muscular ass liKe yours, but they’ll be the experienced guys in general who just want to enjoy muscle for a change. They’ll Know what they’re doing, and all you have to do is relax and let them do it. The majority of guys, though, will taKe one looK at you and want to be fucKed by you – it’s almost every man’s wet dream to be taKen by a big, handsome, muscled stud. I recKon you’ll have ten or fifteen fucKs for every one who wants to fucK you.
And you won’t get many of the time wasters either – guys who just want to Kiss and cuddle, or jerK off. Those guys are a real pain, actually: if the guy’s going to fucK you, or you fucK him, it’s easy – you either don’t waste your cum, or you faKe it. But if the guy wants a mutual
jerK-off session, then there’s not a lot you can do except get stucK in there and let him tease a whole load of cum out of you. You don’t want too many of those in a night, I tell you – if you don’t really flood them with cum, they complain, and it doesn’t matter to them that it might be the fifth or eighth load you’ve had to shoot that night. But I shouldn’t worry about it – just hang in there for the first weeK or two, and see how things develop. All the guys are clean – they don’t let any dropouts or anything in here, even if they’ve got the money. And some of them are really nice guys, guys you wouldn’t mind going to the bar with for a drinK – not that that’s allowed here: no drinKing with the customers, either before or after.”
“Come on now, Steve – let’s go and get changed, and go out on the walKway.
I’m not sure I could have done it without Craig’s cheery help. We went into the gym changing room, and he selected one of the green house polos and shorts for himself. But he almost insisted that I wear nothing but some of the brief white gym shorts, without a jocKstrap underneath. “LooK, Steve”, he said, “Believe me – the guys you’re going after want muscle. So show it to them: bare chest, displaying those nips of yours, and the tight shorts to emphasise your ass and the shape of your cocK. I Know you’re a ‘large’, but wear a ‘medium’ for maximum effect. The guys will be creaming themselves as you strut along, watching that ass of yours as it moves under the tight cotton.”
We hung our numbered medallions – they were in bright blue plastic – around our necKs, and went out and strolled up and down the walKway. There were two or three guys sitting in the bar already, and they looKed at Craig and me with interest. But nothing happened, and we went bacK into the rear, I was introduced to some of the other guys who were coming on duty, then sauntered out again. This went on until about seven, when Craig pointed out to me that my number was lit up on a display board. “A customer has booKed you”, he said. “So go out to the bar and up to the window, and meet the lucKy guy who’s bought an hour of your time.
Now, remember what I said – a room with a green light, Keep smiling, stay relaxed, and when it’s all over, don’t forget to go bacK and change the sheets and so on.”
I’ll never Know the name of that first customer, of course. But it’s difficult to Know who was the most scared – him, or me. I met him at the window, tooK him to one of the rooms, then, as he sat on the bed, dropped my shorts an turned around so he could see my whole body – this wasn’t so hard for me, as I had after all been used to worKing naKed at my first employer. Then I smiled, and went and sat on the bed beside him. I realised he was shaKing, and I actually felt Kind of sorry for him. I gently helped him pull up his polo shirt, then I dropped to my Knees and eased off his trainers and socKs. He tooK his pants off himself, and I stood by the side of him and cupped his cocK and balls through his boxers – it made a change to be doing this to another guy ,when it was usually employers doing this to me as part of an inspection!
Well, as my bad lucK would have it, even though he was nervous as a Kitten, he did want to fucK me. So I slicKed my hole with lube, helped him unroll a condom over his hard cocK, and stoKed it gently with my lubed hand. I wasn’t going to have any problems here, I could tell – he had one of those “asparagus dicKs”, so long and thin, and it would easily slide into me without any effort at all. He even Knew how he wanted to fucK me – Kneeling, my face pushed into the bed, and with him between my legs fucKing me “doggy”. It didn’t feel liKe anything – no excitement, no fun for me, just something purely mechanical. I felt him slide in, I felt his puny body pounding away, but it was completely un-erotic for me. I thought I better groan a bit, to maKe him feel good about it, and so, franKly, I faKed it. And when he collapsed onto my bacK after he’d evidently shot, I moaned and told him what a fantastic fucKer he was. No, I didn’t feel good about it – a guy should be honest with another guy – but sometimes there’s no point to honesty, is there? And my deception was harmless enough.
We chatted a bit as we showered together, and he seemed to get as much pleasure from washing my cocK and balls, and playing with my pecs as he pretended to soap them, as he had from fucKing me.
After I’d led him bacK to the bar, and said goodnight, I went bacK and tidied the room, and then just sat there on the bed. What had I just done? I’d just sold my body, and I wasn’t sure that I liKed it. It had meant nothing. I’d felt nothing. It seemed harmless. And I remembered what Craig had said about selling myself anyway when I was running my own business. But there just seemed to be something that wasn’t right about all of this, it’s just that I couldn’t put my finger on it, somehow.
For the rest of the night I played hard to get – I had to Keep going out on the walKway, but every time there was a guy who looKed as if he might fancy buying my time, I’d scowl at him. And by the time we’d closed, I’d only had to taKe the one guy.
Sleeping in the dorm wasn’t a problem – I’d’ done that at my first employer, after all, and at least here there wasn’t a lot of jerKing off going on: after their session servicing the customers, most of the guys had had quite enough sex for the day and all they wanted to do was sleep.
All the guys seem to get up about the same time, and it was a lot of fun in the communal shower – guys were talKing about the customers they had the previous night and generally laughing at them, and they were all Keen to meet me. We had a fantastic communal breaKfast cooKed by the lady who came in, and she treated us liKe a lot of overgrown school Kids, scolding us if we failed to eat all the mountains she served up, and tut-tutting at our language. It was fun – I felt part of one big, happy family.
“Get any tips?”, Craig asKed. “Well, no.”
“But that little nervous guy you tooK off – didn’t he have fun?” “Yes, I guess so…”
“So you should have hinted that it would be nice to leave you something. You Know, say something liKe ‘I hope you liKed the service, sir. Was everything all right, sir? Are you completely happy with everything, sir?’, and Kind of station yourself between him and the door, so he has to go right past you to get out. Most of them open their wallets then.”
“Anyway”, he continued, “What are you going to do today?”
You Know, I honestly didn’t Know! It was so long since I’d had free time, time to myself, to do what I wanted, that I had no ideas how to spend it.
“D’you liKe running?”, Craig asKed. “Yes.”
“So come running with me, and then I’ll buy you a bite of lunch – you can pay me bacK next weeK.”
It was really fun having buddy to hang out with again. And I do liKe running, and Craig and me were more or less evenly matched. He was lighter, and was more of a “runner”, but I had much more stamina, and basically could just Keep going. So we had a great time, and after we’d showered, he suggested I dress in the green polo and shorts – he wore his own expensive, elegant causal clothes – and we sauntered off and went downtown and sat in a pavement restaurant and watched the crowds go by. It was idyllic. I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
This was even better than worKing for myself. And that night, by Kind of sKulKing at the bacK of the walKway, and against Craig’s advice, Keeping my body covered, I manage to avoid having to taKe any customers at all.
The blow fell on my third day, when I was called in to see my employer, just after I’d come bacK from running again with Craig. I stood in front of him, my T soaKed with sweat and my chest still heaving slightly. He looKed at me, and said “Good, Steve. I liKe my boys to Keep in shape. But you’re not doing yourself any good, you Know. You’ve got to improve your average.”
“Sir, sorry, sir, what average?”
“In two nights you’ve only had one customer, Steve, and it’s just not good enough. It’s not enough for me to pay for your contract, let alone turn a profit for me. Perhaps none of the guys has explained it to you – you have to have at least twenty customers a weeK – that’s an average of three a night. Any weeK where you fail to achieve this doesn’t count, and it’s added to the length of time you have to spend here.”
“But no one told me…”
“Are you stupid, thicK, a moron? Who do you thinK pays for all of this? Do you expect us to taKe on servants who don’t provide a reasonable return on our investment?”
“Sir, no, I meant I didn’t Know there was a standard…”
“Read the contract, Steve – ‘the servant will perform to reasonable standards, as the employer shall from time to time set down…’. Surely you Know that?”
Well, I didn’t, did I? But I suppose I should have expected it.
“All right – I’ll wipe the slate clean for this weeK, providing you get at least thr ee customers tonight. And tomorrow. And for the rest of the weeK.”
All I could do was say “Sir, thanK you, sir.”, and Kind of creep out.
Actually, it wasn’t that hard – it was Thursday now, and the weeKend business was starting to arrive. I walKed up and down in my tiny white gym shorts, and there seemed to be a lot of guys interested. Later in the evening I stripped down to a jocKstrap, and then I got two customers in quicK succession, and a third just as we were closing. It seemed they all wanted to fucK me, but I Kind of frightened them by glaring at them when we were in the worKroom and they suggested that I might liKe to go down on my Knees in front of them, and I ended up by fucKing all three – well, I faKed one of them, but shot into the condom with two.
I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, when my employer again summoned me into the office.
“This is not a game, Steve! It’s a serious business, you Know! I’m here to have happy, satisfied customers, and you seem to be trying to fucK it all up. Well, it’s not good enough. LooK at this…” He pushed tree slips of paper across the table at me. The were marKed “Customer Comments” and had that usual bullshit about “We value your custom. Please let us Know what you thinK about the following aspects of our service…”
“See – the three customer you had last night were not pleased. We asK them to rate you overall on the scale of one to five, with four and five – above average and good – being the only acceptable scores. All of them gave you a two or a three. And the rule here is that any customer who does that does not count in your weeKly numbers. So, thus far, you have precisely one customer towards your quota this weeK, and only two days to go! I’ve tried to help you, but you’ve thrown it bacK in my face. So it looKs as if we’ll just be extendi ng you by one weeK.”
“You can’t do that, sir! I remember, it’s in the contract.”
“Yes, but you can agree to it voluntarily. Otherwise I’ll just go for the penalty in th e contract, and beat you. Or, rather, since I doubt that a caning or a session with the tawse will have much effect on that hide of yours, I’ll apply to the court for something a little stronger.”
I thought bacK to the whipping, and almost recoiled with horror. “Sir, please, there’s no need to do that… I’ll taKe the weeK…” “Ah, so you’re what we call ‘whip smart’, are you?”
“It means a servant who’s experienced the public chastisement officer already, and who’s ready to do almost anything to avoid it again. I thinK I now understand what maKes you ticK, Steve.
So remember, start acting liKe a responsible servant, looKing after my interests, or we may have to consider some further action.”
I felt sicK inside, as I muttered “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Right. Well I want four customers tonight – that should be easy, a it’s Friday. And I want a satisfaction rating of a four or five, is that understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Craig saw me looKing unhappy as I sat at a table by myself in the dining room and munched a sandwich. There were some other guys in there, but they were laughing and joKing, and I just wasn’t in the mood.
“Hey, buddy – you’re looKing fucKing miserable. What’s the problem? Your boyfriend left you?”
“Craig, that’s not funny. I haven’t got a boyfriend.”
“Oh, so that’s the problem. So do you want one? Will I do?”
I had to smile, and then I told him everything that had happened so far.
“LooK, Steve, your problem is that you feel guilty in some way about your worK. I thinK it’s because no one has really introduced you to the pleasure of proper sex. Yes, I Know you’ve been on the training course, and very comprehensive it is. But it doesn’t real ly teach you to enjoy it, does it?”
“But I can’t enjoy selling my body to anyone who comes along…”
“Yes you can! A guy who’s in touch with his own body, who really enjoys sex, can enjoy it with anyone. LooK, you don’t have to liKe all the guys. You might actually really disliKe some of the tubs of lard that want to have sex with you. But that’s not the point – if they play with your nips, tease your dicK, provide you with an asshole to fucK… You can have fun. And if you have fun, they’ll have fun. And if they enjoy it, they’ll rate you highly, even if the actual technical standard of your performance is shit.”
“Aw, come on. You can’t just enjoy sex with random guys.” “Steve, do you fancy me?”
“Craig, I liKe you, as a buddy…”
“But do you want to fucK me, or have me fucK you?” “No, of course not…”
“Come on then, buddy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Steve, you just told me that you liKe me as a buddy, but that you don’t want to have sex with me. And I‘ve told you that it’s possible for two guys always to enjoy sex. So come along – let’s find one of the empty worKrooms, and see who’s right. Even though you don’t want to, I’ll bet you that we can have a lot of fun together.
”No, Craig, don’t be fucKing stupid…”
“Ah, so you’re chicKen, are you? TalK’s cheap, I suppose. But a real man would be prepared to bacK up his ideas with action…”
“I can’t fucK you…”
“Why not? And, in any case, how do you Know I don’t want to fucK you? – you’ve got a really nice ass, and I’ve been thinKing about it a lot since I met you.”
“No, Craig – this is stupid.”
“Steve, buddy – I’ve seen this before. Really nice guys liKe you, who for some reason are hung up about sex. They start to perform worse and worse here, and before you Know where you are, they’re in more debt than they were when they started. Now, you don’t want that, do you? So let me show you what it’s all about – if you can get to the point of liKing it with me, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it with other guys, too, and hey presto, the problem will have gone away.”
I sat there, not Knowing what to say or do. Craig came and stood in front of me, held out his hand as if to help me up, and said “For fucK’s saKe, Steve, you’re a big, tough guy. I’ve seen you running, and worKing out, and you push yourself to the limits. Now, snap out of it – come on!”
Almost as if in a daze I let him half pull me up, and then I followed him into one of the depressingly familiar worKrooms. “We could do this in the dorm”, Craig said, “And perhaps we will again tomorrow, so some of the other guys can join in. But this time, you’ll probably feel more comfortable in private…”
Before I could stop him he stood on tiptoe, threw his arms around my necK and started to Kiss me. It was so totally unexpected that I opened my mouth in surprise, and his tongue rushed in. As we thrashed around, he let go of his arms and all at once his hands seemed to be everywhere – playing with my nips, cupping my cocK, poKing down my waistband at the bacK and into my ass cracK… It Kind of ticKled, somehow, and felt good, and I tried to stop him. And the more I tried to stop him, the more he went for me.
We fell bacKwards onto the bed, and lay there for a moment, side by side, laughing out loud.
But he was liKe a maniac – I was still laughing when he leapt astride me and pinned my biceps to the bed with his Knees. He bent over to Kiss me again, then leaned bacKwards and pushed his hand right down the front of my shorts and gripped my cocK. In an instant he was on the floor, tugging my shorts off, then his mouth was all over my cocK and balls – in spite of myself, I moaned with pleasure.
I watched as he tore his own clothes off as if in a frenzy, then he was astride me again, straddling my chest, then feeding his erect cocK into my mouth. The warmth of his ass on my chest was almost intoxicating. “SucK me, Steve. Let me feel that tongue of yours on my cocK…”
Well, that wasn’t a problem for me, as I’d done it so many times for the trucK drivers, and I sucKed on it greedily. But this time it felt different – I was doing it because I wanted to, not because they were threatening me. He let me bring him almost to climax, then sprang to lie beside me. He Kissed me again, and I felt his hand fondling my dicK, then exploring around, underneath. QuicK as a flash he withdrew his hand and covered his fingers with his own spit, then he was down again, and I felt his finger enter me.
It went on and on. It was utterly relentless. As fast as I’d got used to feeling some part of his body in contact with some part of mine, he moved on. And all the time we were rolling around, sometimes in contact with each other, sometimes not. We laughed, we shouted, and when he finally had me lie on my bacK and hold my anKles near my head, it was actually a huge excitement as his cocK pressed against my hole, and he pushed gently into me.
He stopped then, sunK deep into me.
“OK, Steve? I don’t want to fucK you unless you’re completely happy with it…” “Get fucKing, Craig! I want you. I want that cocK of yours now, please…” “No! No, I’m not going to…”
He laughed uproariously. “…and this is the man who didn’t want guys to fucK him. Begging and pleasing for it, just liKe a bitch in heat….”
But no more needed to be said – it was a fantastic fucK, as Craig varied his speed, varied his thrusts… He had me moaning and crying for more, delirious with the pleasure he was causing me. And when he shot, he fell forward onto me, and we lay locKed together, sweaty body to sweaty body, hearts racing, our breath coming in huge ragged bursts.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d just had sex with a guy I hardly Knew. And it had been fun.
But it wasn’t over. Craig Knelt down, pushed his head into the bed, and started to wiggle his ass from side to side. “Come and get it, Steve….” , he chided gently. “Come and show me what that cocK of yours can do in my lovely young ass….”
Well, I was erect. So I licKed and slobbered all over my fingers, Knelt down and spat a huge load of gob at his hole, massaged him a bit, then entered him.
Now I Know I’m usually a pretty impatient guy, and once my cocK is aimed and pointed, I usually drive the whole thing through quicKly to my climax. But that afternoon it went on and on – if I was too quicK, Craig started to shout and I was so alarmed that I slowed down, and I found that going slower was a whole lot more fun…. I wanted it to go on for ever. But the inevitable happened, and before I wanted to, I was pumping into Craig.
We lay together afterwards, laughing, smiling, joKing, sharing those intimacies that guys do who’ve just had a fantastic fucK. Finally, he turned to me, Kissed me again, and said “Steve, I win, I thinK…. “
“I was right – you can enjoy sex with another guy, someone you hardly Know. So, come on, buddy – get stucK in there tonight, start to relax, start to laugh a bit, and the customers will be queuing up for you.”
“But Craig, it doesn’t seem right, still… Having sex with someone you don’t Know.”
“You’re still thinKing liKe a breeder, Steve. Because women don’t let you have it until you’ve spent a whole lot of time and money in dating them and sweet-talKing them, you’ve got into the habit of thinKing that you can’t have sex the moment you’ve met someone. But men aren’t genetically programmed that way – a guy needs to shoot his load as soon as he sees a body that will taKe it, and guys who liKe man to man sex are just living that ideal. It’s perfectly normal to go into a gay bar and go home with someone you’ve just met, and fucK. There’s absolutely nothing abnormal about it at all. In fact, my experience before I came here was that most of the guys I went with I’d only met an hour or so before, in a bar, at a club, on the Internet. So just relax, you’re doing the right thing, and enjoy it!”
He was right, of course. Starting that night, my performance improved dramatically. I began to realise that I had one of the best jobs in the world – I had time to exercise, I had time to play, I had a lot of good buddies who were always there for sex if I wanted it (most of the other guys if they were around in the afternoons, enjoyed a bout of recreational fucKing and we quite often got together to do it – it was such a relief to be able to be ‘natural’ and really feel a cocK, and not have a vile condom preventing us from properly experiencing each other), I had Craig, and we became really close, often bunKing together in one of the single beds in the dorm, and I was worKing off my debt, quicKly.
After a time all the customers start to looK the same – although I had a group of “regulars”, locals who liKed me and who always picKed me, I hardly recognised them. Especially when they were out at the mall or somewhere with their wives and families. I only recognised them as customers as I could sometimes see a panic-stricKen looK if I saw them walKing along, and they were terrified that I might greet them. I did well enough, though, and the tips Kept rolling in – I recKoned to average thirty per customer, so I was maKing over six hundred a weeK.
Remembering the disaster with my two hundred at Delta DrinKs, I actually went to the banK and opened a savings account. I had a lot of problems, as they claimed they didn’t deal with indentured servants, but I asKed to see my “loan officer”, and “persuaded” him to help – it turned to he didn’t just liKe inspecting the servants, but would really have liKed to have sex with them but was too shy to asK. Well, I Knew a lot about the way men reacted now, so I stripped him and fucKed him, very gently, over his desK.
I’m not one for fancy clothes, so I didn’t spend a lot on them as some of the guys did. But I do have one weaKness – swimming. Although the gym at worK was fine, there was nowhere to swim. The prestigious Athletic Club in the middle of downtown had a superb Olympic size pool on the twentieth floor, and I went off to join. They wouldn’t let me, of course. “Free men only, and only then when recommended by other members”, the snooty receptionist told me.
I started to taKe a fresh interest in my regular clientele, and found two members of the Athletic Club – although why, I can’t imagine: both of them were in their mid fifties, and really out of shape. I used to worry, as they broKe out in sweat as I fucKed them, whether they’d ever have a heart attacK as I plunged in and out of them. But, in that happy afterglow of sex, I did have a few intimate, man to man talKs with them.
Once I was a member, I was in heaven. I’d run with Craig, then stop at the Athletic Club to swim, before coming “home” to worK. And it didn’t even cost me the monthly subscription, as I was the “young nephew” of one of the members I’d located, and he paid the family membership. Of course, on those days when he just happened to be at the Club when I was finishing swimming, “uncle” and “nephew” had to have a little private time in the steam room together. “Uncle” was really generous , though, and I never got less than a hundred after one of these little interludes – it was, as he pointed out, a bargain compared to paying my employer’s prices for the same piece of ass.
The only thing that ultimately marred my whole experience in the brothel was the “Rob incident”. My number was called one evening, fairly late, just as the drunKs were starting to roll in, and I went to collect the customer as usual. To my astonishment, it was my old buddy Rob, the guy who had first got me into all this servitude stuff. He pumped my hand enthusiastically, and I thought he’d want to talK, so we went along to one of the worKrooms as usual.
“Steve – great to see you. And you’re looKing amazing – the life suits you, obviously.” “Rob, what are you doing here?”
“In town for a convention. Came in here for, well, you Know… a bit of sport… a bit of a change… something a little different…”
“Things not going well at home, Rob?”
“Absolutely no problems. But all guys liKe to play, don’t they? So I came in here, and then I saw you… And then I definitely wanted to play. Come on, Steve, drop those shorts, and let me looK at you – I’ve been thinKing about you often, ever since I saw you in the banK that first time.”
“Rob, you can’t be serious…”
“Come on, Steve – don’t be stupid. I’ve bought your time, remember? I always thought you had a nice ass, and now I’m going to find out. Now, get out of those fucKing shorts, before I call the manager!”
“Rob, I’m your buddy. We used to go hunting together. We were best friends. You can’t be serious about fucKing me, just because you’ve paid for it…”
“You’re dammed right I can! You were my buddy, but now you’re an indentured servant. And indentured servant with an ass that I’ve fancied for years. And an ass that I’m about to fucK…”
Well, he did. And I was glad that I was always prepared for clients, as he did it tough and brutally without any preparation. As he fucKed away I could have almost wept, as I remembered all those great times we’d had together out hunting, when we were just two buddies together. And now I was lying there, being taKen “dog” fashion by him, having his flabby belly slam into me as he pumped away, just as if I was no more than a common whore. Afterwards he made me wash him in the shower, too, and I had to bend down and soap his legs, ass and cocK whilst he looKed down at me crouching under him with such a fucKing superior looK. Then he pissed on me – and I was supposed to be his buddy! I felt it spraying, all hot, into my hair, and I heard him laugh.
The worst thing though was that he left a five for me as a tip, thrusting it into my hand and saying “I always thought you’d be a good fucK, Steve. Here… Get something for yourself….”. LooK, I’d rather guys left nothing, rather than five – it’s so fucKing demeaning. I mean, you’d give that much to a cab driver, wouldn’t you, not just to someone you’d used so intimately? And the bastard only gave me a “one” on the comments card, writing in “Surly and uncooperative”. Fortunately it didn’t affect my quota that weeK as I was doing quite well in terms of customers, but it was mandatory for all “ones” to be reviewed by my employer and I had quite a difficult time. He seemed to thinK that as Rob and I Knew each other it ought to have been easy for me to show him a good time, and he just didn’t accept that a guy wouldn’t willingly taKe his best friend’s cocK up his ass.
Still, I got through my time, and even though it was a close call some weeKs, I had no “penalty” weeKs, and no whippings in all my time there. When I went off to the banK for my end of contract interview, it was with a light heart – all my debt was cleared, and I even had money of my own on deposit: I’d managed to save about twenty thousand from my tips (yes, I was good!), even after all the little extras I’d bought myself. It was a fantastic morning, bright and sunny, and I went through the doors of the banK as a man who was at last in charge of his own destiny again
Pete Brown – the interview with the author
Allways read the contract (all chapters)
Overview Pete Brown stories
Kinky Art by Theo Blaze