Date: Sat, 24 Jul 2010 13:57:58 +0000 (GMT)
From: nder pants <nderpants@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: A Life Without Trousers - 1

A Life Without Trousers

Chapter One

"Those trousers you're wearing are really quite disgusting, David. Take
them off at once!"

Everyone looked at my trousers and then back at Orly expecting him to
laugh, but I knew there would be no laugh. He was deadly serious.


I swallowed hard and stood up. My heavy heart started pounding as I met his
cold steely glare. I pleaded silently but I knew deep down it was useless
and, with bitter resignation, I began to unfasten my belt.

"David, what on earth . . . ? What are you doing?" Yvonne enquired in a
state of mild and amused agitation. She cast anxious glances at tables
nearby. "You're making a ridiculous spectacle of yourself. Fasten them up
immediately!"

How I wish I could have followed her orders instead of Orly's, but my fate
was sealed and, with a deep breath at the inevitability of it all, I
finished opening my trousers and pushed them down over my hips.

I was conscious of some gasps and titters from the immediate surrounding
area of the crowded pub' terrace that summer evening and there was a
smattering of ironic applause as I stepped out of my trousers and passed
them over the table to Orly's outstretched hand. My face, I imagine, was
scarlet, as were my boxer shorts in which I now stood.

"You called his bluff there, old son. I take my hat off to you for your
bottle," Guy sniggered, embarrassed for me.

"There's been quite enough taking off without you removing anything Guy,
thank you very much," Yvonne interjected. "For goodness' sake put them back
on, David, and sit down!"

"He shall not put them back on, Yvonne. I shall not allow him to. I told
you I found them disgusting," Orly remarked as he emptied the contents of
my trouser pockets onto the table. "So offensive are they to me that I
shall dispose of them at once!" and so saying, he hurled them into the
river.

I sank back into my chair amidst cackles of jocularity as I bleakly watched
the current take my trousers into mid-stream and slowly progress past the
little island downstream towards the river meadows and the city beyond. At
that stage I was happily unaware that my trouser-wearing days were drawing
to a close.

It was a warm evening and I had only worn a short-sleeved shirt, but I
shivered now as a breeze riffled through the hairs on my arms and legs as I
sat in the pub's riverside garden in shirt and boxers and shoes and socks.

Orly looked across at me with a smirk of triumph glinting in his eyes.

"Drink up, old chap, you're buying the next round, remember?" and he passed
me the twenty pound note rescued from my trousers which he had given me
earlier that evening for the very purpose of buying a round.

The immediate entertainment value of my humiliating exposure, the very
public divesting of my trousers and their subsequent unexpected departure
down the river had run its allotted span and the various tables soon began
to ignore us all again, with only the occasional idle glance across at my
bare legs. It being summer and indeed some young people of both sexes
wearing shorts in the immediate area, I did not appear too odd to a casual
observer. I just had to ensure that my shirt tail concealed the boxers'
fly.

Guy volunteered to get my round in to save me having to go up to the bar in
my underwear -- especially after they had been tweaked off my hips by a
passing coterie of ladettes - and I was pleasantly surprised Orly did not
object to his going on principle. Yvonne kept giving me questioning looks
and observing Orly.

"Are you two all right? I mean, has there been a row or something," she
hissed at me at one point when he was talking to Gerald.

"It's fine," I lied to her, surprised at the matter-of-fact calmness of my
delivery.

I relived the moment of standing up and taking off my trousers in front of
all those people, stepping out of them and handing them across the table
with everybody watching, and I shivered and drank deeply from my pint of
bitter. It felt cold and wallow in my mouth.

I drew in a deep breath as I slowly began to realise my whole life had just
changed with Orly's first order. I was no longer my own man. I was his.

And, as I recognised this change, I began to tremble uncontrollably so I
had to put my pint down in case anyone noticed. There was also something
else which unnerved me. At that very moment of realisation there had been a
definite if momentary thrill and even, to my utter disbelief and amazement,
an unwanted blood surge into my member nestling so close to imminent
exposure beneath a well-placed shirt flap.

                   * * *

The Honourable Orlando Urquhart was fabulously wealthy; so much so it was
almost obscene. He wore it well though. He came from "old money" and so
there was little that was overtly or even vulgarly ostentatious in his
various trappings.  It was just that if you could recognise quality when
you saw it then you knew instantly that the best was always what Orlando
Urquhart considered to be right for him.

I envied him his wealth; I freely admit it. His life seemed so
care-free. If he saw something he wanted then he bought it, or had it
engraved and delivered. I had expensive tastes too but I lacked the budget
to finance them and therein lay my trouble. Orlando had bailed me out a
couple of times at school to spare me parent-grief.

The first time I had to rely on him to settle my debts at university, he
said: "Really, David, my dear boy, you must learn not to be quite so
profligate with my money or I shall start to exert controls over you."

I fawned over him in puppy-like gratitude and promised the moon as an
undying token of my esteem and friendship.

"One day I may ask you for it," he smiled sardonically and patted me on the
head as he dismissed me from his presence with yet another largish cheque.

But you see, I had been accepted by the "fast set" as my exceptionally
old-fashioned father might have said, had he known. I was living beyond my
means, almost beyond Orlando's means too. Great gourmandising revelries
held in country village pubs with a reputation for fine food, drinking only
the finest wines. And gambling!

We would gamble extravagant sums of money on two flies on a wall -- which
would reach the ceiling first or just fly away? Anything and everything was
fair game for our bets and we outbid each other audaciously and with little
thought of where the money would come from.

Anyway, the sky fell on me all at once on a particular Thursday. One of the
chaps had got a bit nasty and pressing over the amount outstanding that I
owed him and reported me to the college authorities. That was it; the "fast
set" dropped me, instanta! At the same time the ATM machine chewed up my
cash card and that night, trying to recoup some of my losses I hit a losing
streak at quite a big card game with serious players. When I say serious,
it was in a gambling club (a bit of a dive, actually) and they had bouncers
who roughed me up a bit first. I was quite frankly fearful for my life at
one stage and was literally frightened out of my clothes. They took my
watch, the lot, then insisted on the ultimate humiliation of stripping me
of everything, even my underpants, in front of a fascinated and jeering
crowd, threatening to cut off my manhood too if I tried to resist.

So the eventual mortification was to be turned out into the night -- or
rather the early hours of a Friday morning - stark naked amidst hoarse
laughter and heartlessly spiteful remarks. There was no hope of making it
back into college at that time before the break of dawn and my options were
exceedingly limited. I can tell you I was sobbing helplessly as I skulked
down cobbled side alleys wondering how on earth I could extricate myself
from this god-awful mess I had got myself into. Orly was my only hope, my
only saviour, so it was to his doorstep I scuttled clutching my dignity in
both palms to conceal it from a cruel and laughing world.

He stood in his elegant night attire gazing down at me from his doorstep,
his face expressionless.

"What's the matter, David? Were you worried I wouldn't recognise you with
your clothes on?" he mused drily, affecting to be totally unsurprised by my
nude appearance at three-thirty in the morning.

"You've got to help me, Orly," I forced the words out through a throat
constricted with emotion.

"Oh?" his eyebrows raised in surprise. "And just why, pray tell me, you
think I have got to help you?"

I pleaded and eventually he let me in. He led me through to his sitting
room, poured me a brandy and then said: "All right, David, tell me the
whole sordid story," in a rather exasperated "we have been here before"
kind of weary voice.

I took a slug of my brandy, one hand still fiercely protecting what bit of
modesty I had left. I glanced down at myself to see it was pretty
ineffective.

"Could I perhaps have something to wear?" I ventured tentatively.

"Story first!" was Orlando's firm response.

So I stood foolishly and vulnerably stark naked in his front room and out
poured the whole sorry story of my downfall and degradation. It was
movingly told; I wept myself. Orlando, however, remained stony-faced
throughout and regarded me with unfeeling eyes.

"Of course, you realise the university authorities regard borrowing beyond
one's means and unpaid gambling debts particularly seriously, don't you?"
Orlando said at last, having left me to finish both my sobs of self-pity
and my brandy before putting my glass down and once more cupping my private
parts together with the other hand that had remained there less effectively
on its own.


"You say these men have threatened to report you to the proctors?" he
sought clarification and I nodded glumly. "Doubtless you know, if they
carry out this threat, you will be instantly rusticated, sent down and your
parents notified."

I gazed at him in horror.

"Orly, no! My father would go up the wall. I'd never hear the end of
it. The shame on the family escutcheon - all that sort of stuff . . . can't
you help me out of this?"

Orlando stood up hastily.

"I wondered how long it would be before you got round to expecting me to
come sailing to your aid again, you ungrateful bastard!" he sneered.

I grovelled. I told him I wasn't in the least ungrateful, that I valued his
friendship like no other, that I fully realised how much I already owed him
and that if he got me out of this scrape then that would be it. He would
see before him a changed man, subservient to him in every way, desperate to
prove my sincerity and eternal gratitude by carrying out his every wish. I
begged him to settle my debts whereupon all my worldly goods I would bestow
upon him . . .  except my father's watch that I pleaded with him to barter
with the men I owed for its return.

Orlando stood looking at me with those piercing eyes of his. There was a
hint of cruelty there that made the hairs stand up on the back of my
neck. His stare made me all the more conscious of my nakedness somehow,
even though he was only in a towelling robe over his striped silk pyjamas.

"A changed man, you say? Subservient to me in every way?" he mused
abstractedly, a small smile playing on his thin lips. "Ready to carry out
my every wish, whenever, wherever, no matter what?"

"Yes, yes," I responded fervently.

"So, if I settle these debts and get you your watch back, from henceforward
you and your possessions are mine?"

I baulked slightly.

"Erm, yes, that's about it." I began to have doubts.

"From thenceforward you would have to live by my strict rules, all chance
of self-will totally subjugated. There would be no turning back, David. I
would have invested time and money in you and I would want to see a fulsome
return for that in all you do and say."

I blenched a little, cleared my throat and found myself stammering out a
quavering: "I'd be more than prepared to give you some of my ----"

"No, David," I was cut short. "This time it's all or nothing! You have a
moment to decide; unquestioning obedience in all things, no matter how
demeaning or degrading. Remember, you brought all this upon yourself,
David. Could anything be more humiliating than the present state you find
yourself, standing stark bollock naked in the rooms of a friend pleading
with him to get you out of the hole in which you got yourself?"

I glanced down at myself ashamed. I did feel extremely foolish standing
there.

"You're right in some of the things you say, of course, Orly," I began.

"All, or nothing," he repeated in ringing tones.

"I agree," I murmured softly at last.

"I demand absolute automatic compliance, deference and submission from the
start," he rattled out.

"You shall have it," I meekly replied.

"You will give up your college rooms and move in here. Your commitment to
me shall be total. I am going to oversee your entire life. Decisions about
how you live, travel, what you eat and drink, what you wear and do not
wear, from henceforward, will be decided for you by me or my appointees."

I nodded dully, resigned, as I thought, to my fate, little realising quite
how all-embracing this life-changing agreement would be.

Orly went on insisting that there would be a written contract drawn up
which I should have to sign giving him complete authority over me and in
which I would waive all my rights in his favour for as long as he deemed
fit. I was forced to glumly agree.

"There will, however, be a trial period," he continued in ominous tones,
"during which I shall test the sincerity of your desire to conform to my
wishes in all things in return for my help. If I detect any wavering
reluctance to instantly fulfil my demands then the agreement is terminated
and the matter of your debts to me will be put into the hands of the
courts. And with your record you may be very certain it would mean a jail
sentence. Is that clearly understood?

I swallowed hard and mumbled that it was.

"Excellent," he said, suddenly throwing himself into an easy chair and
crossing his long legs, he rested his chin on steepled fingers, regarding
me with an almost amused air of insouciance. "Test number one, then. Spread
your legs apart and hands behind your neck!"

With an inward groan of mortification, I dropped my eyes and unclasped my
fingers. Trembling, I drew my hands away and placed them on the back of my
head as I slithered my bare feet further apart. Thoroughly conscious of my
complete and utterly demeaning exposure before him and my total
subjugation, nothing of me concealed at all, not even my armpits, my eyes
teared up.

"Shoulders back, laddie; head up. Present yourself properly for me."

I complied with as little reluctance as was impossible to conceal. As I
stood there, blatantly devoid of all means of cover, I uttered a silent
oath and a quick prayer. Please not now of all times, I wordlessly begged
of my Maker as, with a growing sense of horror and disbelief, I became
aware of a slight but sudden stirring within my reproduction system. I
watched with hot red eyes as Orlando Urquhart studied my - prior to this -
entirely private parts with what appeared to be almost undue fascination.

"Would it be possible to put something on," I asked tentatively,
maintaining the stance to which I had been ordered.

"It would seem to be quiteimpossible since you arrived here with nothing,"
Orly remarked blandly.

"I was meaning perhaps I could borrow something . . ."

"I think not!" Orly barked quite sharply. "It is all this borrowing that
has reduced you to the position in which you now so miserably find
yourself, David.  Don't you see that? I see it as my mission to be a
constant reminder of where your profligacy got you, so my first rule will
be no clothing at all whenever you are here alone or with me."

"You mean until I move in and bring my stuff with me?" I anxiously sought
clarification.

"You have no stuff, David! Of that let us be clear. You forfeited it all to
me."

"S-s-so you will keep me here . . . naked? All the time?"

"As a constant reminder."

"But what if people call?" I asked.

"You will be allowed a small hand towel to clasp round your loins as though
you were caught about to shower," he responded after a moment's
consideration. "You may thank me for my magnanimity in this. It is more
than you deserve under the circumstances."

I grudgingly did so.

"But what if my parents call?" I asked a little more desperately.

"Doubtless they have both seen you naked before?"

"Well, yes, of course, but that was some years ago," I added. "I can't let
them see me naked nowadays."

"You have no option, David," Orly stressed. "The question is will I allow
them to see you naked." He stared at the ceiling for inspiration. "Let us
say my decision for each visit will be judged according to your attitude
and behaviour prevalent at that time.

"I must reiterate for your benefit, David, you are no longer `your own
man'," he added. "You are mine instead!"

[This is the end of the first part of a projected story about a young man
who gets himself into financial trouble at university and is forced to
adopt a very subservient and deferential way of life in order to survive. I
submit it with a view of it being published on your site, Sirs, should it
find favour with you and beg for advice as to whether you deem it worth
continuing with. Thank you.]