Date: Sat, 10 Aug 2013 16:27:03 -0400 From: Douglas Marx <douglas.marx.4@gmail.com> Subject: Born; Chapter 4; Story codes: M, MM, SM, bd Disclaimer: By entering this site you agree that you are 18 years of age or older, and that the content of this site is legal in your country or jurisdiction. Warning: This erotic fiction contains sexual experiences between fictional males. If this is not your thing, leave now. Furthermore, any similarity to any person, place or thing living or dead is merely coincidental. There is no safe sex in this story because it is fiction. Remember: In real life, play as safe as possible preferably no exchange of bodily fluids. My stories are copyrighted and are not available for use under any condition. Please forward all comments to douglas.marx.4@gmail.com. Support nifty.org. We have all shot our loads reading Nifty. Show appreciation at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Thank you. Enjoy. Story codes: M, MM, SM, bd ----------------------------------- Please check out my other Nifty.org stories, which can be found under the prolific author section at http://www.nifty.org/nifty/frauthors.html and then scroll down to Douglas Marx Growing Up Naked http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/growing-up-naked/ Downward Spiral of Jim http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/downward-spiral-of-jim Naked Whore http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/naked-whore Put Out to Pasture http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/put-out-to-pasture Santa's Slave Training http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/santas-slave-training Special Product Design http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/special-product-design The Trunk http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-trunk ------------------------------------ Born - Chapter Four I walked into my flat stunned. My opportunity to serve had been presented to me this evening and now I had to make a decision. I was so tired from the ordeal that I simply went to bed and to sleep. In the morning, I got up, ate a little something and went for a walk. I had just moved to this neighborhood a little over three months ago and loved the little life I had created. I knew some of the shopkeepers and enjoyed the quaint corner food store unlike the mega-marts in the suburbs. I liked my new job and the people I worked with. It wasn't much of a life, but it was a pretty good one for an 18-year-old. Should I let it all go for Mr. Brown? Mr. Brown hadn't given me many details of what being his servant/slave/boy would entail. All we did was have dinner, me completely naked cuffed to a chair, and him instructing me about what to do if I wanted to serve him. This was a big risk. What if it didn't work out? What if he was some whack job? I finally concluded to go for it. I had been dreaming of service since before I learned to masturbate. I might as well give it a shot. Coming back from my morning walk I went to my computer and typed off my letter of resignation. My heart was pounding as the page came out of the printer. Was I doing the right thing? Most Master/slave relationships are built on time and evolution. This was fast. This decision could either ruin my life or make me the happiest sub in the world. What would it be? That morning I entered the bank going directly to Mr. Brown's office. I handed him my two-week notice. He very formally said that he was sad to see me leave wishing me the best in whatever my new endeavor was. Mr. Brown shook my hand and I felt that electricity between us. I knew then I had made the correct choice. Shaking any other person's hand over my eighteen years had never created this spark. Mr. Brown was something special. What that would be only time would tell. True to his behavior patterns, he never spoke to me again during the final two weeks. The last days were slow as molasses. I was upset most of the time particularly saying goodbye to my coworkers. I didn't dare call my parents because I thought I might break down crying. If I was crying on the phone to them, then left the planet, it would be hurt them deeply. I did not know if becoming Mr. Brown's slave was going to require a disappearing act, but I couldn't take a chance. At 6 PM on that second Friday night I walked out of the bank and back to my apartment. My bag was already packed. My computer was in its case. I picked them both up, turned one last time to remember my first place and shut the door. At exactly 7 PM, the car service pulled up. The trunk popped open. I put my things in and got in the car. I removed all my clothes. Put on my blindfold, seat belt, and the driver pulled away from the curb. We arrived in the garage. I heard the door shut. Mr. Brown opened the door. I got up and stood there. The driver must have gotten my stuff out of the car and set it down. Mr. Brown grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. I heard the garage door reopen and the backup sounds of the car service leaving. Once again, I was seated at the table for dinner. Food was important to Mr. Brown. We sat in silence. When the meal was over Mr. Brown said, "Clear the table boy." I got up making sure that I did it as perfectly as Mr. Brown had done it for me two weeks earlier. "Good boy. You are a good observer. You noticed how important it was that all indications of food be gone. You are going to do well here, I am sure." That was of great relief to get that compliment. I stood waiting for the next instruction. "Come with me boy." Mr. Brown led me to a room that was to be my room. He opened the door and I was a little shocked. The entire room was black including the drapes over the window. There was a toilet, sink and shower, one light by the single bed, and a small closet. I turned to him but he had already shut the door and locked it. Fuck. I looked in the closet. There was a butler's uniform with shoes, socks, underwear, and t-shirts. I looked at the sizes and they were correct. I didn't know what else to do so I laid down and went to sleep. Taking to sleep was a good thing because an alarm went off in what I later determined as morning. I turned on the light and noticed something that I hadn't last night – speakers. There was a set of speakers. I would learn more about those later. I went to the bathroom, shit and took a fast shower. I assumed Mr. Brown would be coming for me at some point. Instead, the speakers announced – "Go make breakfast". I walked to the door thinking that it was still locked but it wasn't. I went to the kitchen. On the counter was the breakfast menu. Fuck. I wasn't much of a cook. This was going to be horrible. But I muddled through and served the table at exactly 7 AM as the speaker instructions stated. Mr. Brown walked in. He was dressed in a similar silk outfit to the previous time. I pulled his chair and seated him. I stood waiting for instructions. "Sit boy. Eat." "Yes, Sir." We ate in silence again. I cleared the table putting everything away, cleaning thoroughly, turning on the dishwasher, and returned to give Mr. Brown more coffee. I stood waiting. "You are learning quickly boy. For someone who isn't a cook, you did well enough. It is as if you have always been a manservant. Today we are going to go over the basics of our arrangement. Come with me to the drawing room. You are familiar from your visit." We walked down the hall to the drawing room. Upon entering I was shocked to see a man dressed in a nice suit sitting at the desk. Here I was completely naked in front of a stranger. I thought of covering myself but intuitively knew that would not go over well with Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown spoke, "Boy, this is my attorney. He has drawn up some documents for our agreement. Please sit." After I sat, Mr. Brown continued, "These documents are quite simple but necessary to properly take care of both of us. The first document here is your one-year agreement to be my manservant. It spells out the details including that there is no salary; however, you will have a roof over your head, and be well fed. It states that you will do everything that is asked of you without question. This is similar to your probationary period at the bank except it is one-year probation. When the year is up and all goes well you will become my permanent manservant. There will still be no salary but your necessities will be taken care of. "Here is your cellphone. Please call your company and cancel your contract effective immediately." I did. "Sir, may I ask a question?" "Yes, boy." "What happens to my bank account?" "You will have no further contact with the outside world. You are gone from the face of the planet. Your account has your parents as signators. At some point, they will start looking for you. In the process, they will most likely withdraw the money and close the account. If they do not, the account will close and the money will end up being given to the state where non-active accounts end up after the owner vanishes. This will not happen for at least two years, thus if our arrangement doesn't work, your money will be there for you." Sir continued, "This other document states that you have no claims against me. That you entered this agreement to be my manservant of your own free will. For lack of a better term, it is a pre-nup. In the event of my death or incapacity, you will receive $20,000 cash to assist in starting a new life. "Then, there is another agreement. By signing this agreement, you give me permission to do anything to your body that I want to that can't be seen with clothes on. I will not maim; however, I may modify your body as I see fit. I am assuming that you understand that part of your duties to me are sexual." "Yes, Sir. I was hoping that our relationship would be sexual." Mr. Brown gave no facial expression at all or acknowledgement of what I said, "Now sign here, and here. Good boy." The attorney never said a word. When I finished signing the paperwork, he left. I received no copy nor was I allowed to read the document. For all I knew I could have signed slave papers, but I had to trust Mr. Brown. I took solice in knowing that there was a witness to this transaction. Having the attorney here made me realize I was not in danger of losing my life. Mr. Brown continued. He did not see the attorney to the door. "The phones in this house are only good to call 911 in case of an emergency. They will make no other type of call so don't even try unless you want the police to come see you here naked. There are no televisions except the one you noted in the kitchen. The computer system is off limits to you. You are welcome to read any book on the shelves, none of which are periodicals. I do not want you knowing about the outside world. That world is no longer your concern. Your concern in life now is taking care of me. "You will not have much time to read as you will be spending the majority of your day in the kitchen teaching yourself how to cook. That television is programmed to teach you the basics of cooking. "When I am gone, classical music will fill the house all day. This house is to be kept spotless. Once a day, there will be a food delivery. It is the only point in the day when you are to put on clothes. There is a door-greeting outfit in the coat closet. Expect the delivery around 10 AM daily. "You noticed there is no clock in your room. You are not to be concerned with such matters. The computer system will wake you when I want you up and ready to go. All mornings are composed of you cleaning yourself up and heading straight to the kitchen to prepare food." "Sir, may I ask another question?" "Yes, boy." "How do you know I won't run away? There is the door greeting outfit and a butler's uniform. I could walk out if I am unhappy." I observed. Mr. Brown smiled, "That statement makes me know you will be a good manservant. Yes, you have the ability to escape. That is a risk I am willing to take because I don't believe there is any risk there. Boy, you are a slave. You have no mental capacity to be anything other than of service to another human being and particularly a male human being. I believe that even if I treated you as dirt under my feet, which is not my intent, you would be loyal. You have no ego. I respect you for that." "Thank you Sir." "Boy, you are to leave now. You will note that I require a lot of alone time. You are always to make yourself scarce when I'm here unless I specifically want you. Go to the kitchen now and start on your lessons. In short order, I expect outstanding food. I hope you have the talent for it and if you don't you better do it anyway. I don't want to see you again until lunch." "Yes, Sir." I walked out of the drawing room and back to the kitchen. My head was swimming with all the information presented and the contracts signed. I was mortified that I would not even be able to contact my parents; however, I had thought this might happen at some point, which is why I had been so careful with my cash over the months I was on my own. Without a trace was my motto. What was going to happen to my body? Regardless of the final outcome of this arrangment, when I looked at my body the rest of my life, Mr. Brown would have his signature on it somewhere. I was no longer on my own. I didn't even own myself any more. I was officially property of Mr. Brown. ----------------------------------- Your thoughts and feelings on this story are extremely appreciated. Please send any comments to: douglas.marx.4@gmail.com