Date: Tue, 26 Apr 2011 17:57:50 -0700 (PDT)
From: Paul Vanden Boogard <misfit6959@yahoo.com>
Subject: Role Reversal (Part 5)

 Mr. Rees seemed to notice a change in me, though he didn't say anything.  I
went into work the next day with more confidence than I had ever felt before,
and by the end of the week he had stopped hovering over me and just allowed me
to run the store.  I spent the days greeting the customers and checking on the
stock, receiving the orders as they came in and logging the debts in the ledger
to be paid.  Having spent time as the stock boy, I knew where practically
everything in the store was, and happily directed the customers to find what
they were looking for.  Sara, Mr. Rees's daughter, came in at noon on Thursday
to work her shift, which allowed me to stop and eat my lunch, and Eric, the
stock boy, showed up at three.  Mr. Rees had left for the day, and right away he
started giving me attitude.
       "The potting soil pallet needs to be filled again," I said as he hung his
jacket on the back hook.
       "So, fill it," he said, picking up a case of light bulbs and wandering
into the front store.  I glared at his back, then went to finish the task I was
on.  When I went looking for him ten minutes later, he was standing in the
electrical aisle, texting on his cell phone, the case lying at his feet half
empty.
       "You can do that after work," I told him.
       He just glanced up at me, his thumbs continuing their journey over the
keypad.  Stepping up to him, I snatched the phone from his hand and snapped it
closed.
       "Hey," he exclaimed, trying to snatch it back.  He clenched his hand into
a fist.
       "Finish this up and restack that pallet," I held his gaze.
       "Gimme my phone," he demanded.
       "You'll get it back when you're done with your shift."
       "Bullshit, you little runt," he struck his fingers onto my chest and
pushed me.  "I want it back now."
       "Do you want your job?" I continued to hold his gaze.
       He scoffed.  "You can't fire me."
       "Yes, I can," I said matter-of-factly, then turned and went back to the
counter.  My heart was beating like crazy in my chest, but I wasn't about to
back down to him.  I could hear him cussing under his breath as I turned and
walked away.  Sara had heard the exchange, and smiled and winked at me.
       I felt full of power and control when I walked into the house that
evening.
       My father already had supper started, and rushed to the door to relieve
me of my lunch box.  He was still naked, and had been that way since Saturday
evening.  I liked him that way, naked and submissive.  I could look at him all I
wanted to, imagine the feel of his cock in my hand or in my mouth, or the
sensations on my cock when it was in his mouth or up his ass.  I could touch him
whenever I pleased as well, pinching his nipples, teasing his cock hard, or
stroking his asshole.  He would stop whatever he was doing and stand at rigid
attention every time I did, spreading his legs and folding his hands behind his
back.  Keeping him naked was just another extension of my power over him.
       "Take my shoes off," I said as I sat at the table, opening the mail.  He
was no longer allowed to touch it, regardless that the envelopes had his name on
them.  He got down on his knees and tugged my shoes off carefully.
       "I'll want those cleaned and polished this weekend."
       "Yes, Sir."
       I stretched and yawned, settling back to wait for my supper.  All of the
mail was junk mail, which was fine with me, although I knew that there would be
other bills coming.  When I was done with my meal, I rose to inspect the work I
had given my slave for the day.  The shelf in my bedroom closet had been
cluttered with junk, and I had wanted it cleaned out and my drawers and closet
reorganized.  When I opened the doors, I found my sweatshirts and sweatpants
stacked neatly on the shelf, my shirts now sorted into short sleeved, long
sleeved, work shirts, and flannels, my dress pants hung neatly on the right side
and my few pair of shoes and slippers arranged neatly on the floor below.
Opening the dresser drawers, I found them in good order as well, my white socks
separate from the colored, my boxers and undershirts in one drawer, my t-shirts
in another, and my jeans and shorts separated and in another.  The bed had been
made as well.
       "Dust in here tomorrow," I said, pulling off my pants and dropping them
on the floor.  I peeled the rest of my clothes off as well, grabbing a clean
pair of boxers as I headed for the shower.  I checked to make sure the toilet,
sink, and counter were clean before stepping into the tub and sliding the glass
door closed.  It was only a moment later that I heard him enter with a clean
towel.
       Drying myself off, I laid the towel on the floor to stand on, checking my
face to see if I needed a shave.  My dad could grow a full beard if he chose to,
but my facial hair had just started to finally come in, and it was still pretty
light.  Running a sink full of water, I took out the razor and cleaned myself
up, spreading on a little deodorant before pulling my boxers on.  The air was a
little chill when I opened up the door and stepped into the hallway.
       "Bring me some bottoms and a t-shirt."
       I kicked back on the couch and turned on the TV.  I had spent the last
three evenings working on the wall outside, and was ready to put the caps on,
but decided to save that step for the weekend.  Tonight I was just going to
relax and have my slave at my feet.  Under my feet, actually.  I wanted to put
my feet up, and decided that he would make a good footstool.
       He was smiling as he hustled in to give me my clothes, his semi-hard cock
swinging back and forth in front of him.  I slid them down, then had him kneel
in front of me, resting my heels on the small of his back.  I could see his cock
lengthen and jut out beneath him.
       "I wanted to thank you," he said.
       I thought of a dozen comments and questions, but I didn't say anything.
He fell silent again, and I returned to watching my show.  When the episode was
over, I sent him to fetch me a soda.
       "Kneel down right here," I pointed to the floor just to my left.  He
smiled as he obeyed, moving his hands behind his back.  I reached out and idly
cupped his balls.
       "You truly enjoy being my slave, don't you?"
       "Yes, Sir," he responded with enthusiasm, his cock growing stiffer as I
played with his nuts.
       "That's what I wanted to thank you for.  I...you're very good at being my
Master."
       I looked at him, giving his nuts a good squeeze.
       "That's because I honestly consider myself as your Master.  Just like
I've come to consider you just as my slave."
       He smiled again.  I was sure that the fact that I was his son played
heavily into the eroticism of it all for him.  The fact that he was my father
certainly played into it for me.
       "Did you buy the douche bottle like I told you to?"
       "Yes, Sir."
       "You still haven't given me the receipt."
       He had asked to do some grocery shopping today, so I had made out a blank
check and given him the keys to his car.  Rising from his knees, he rushed to
get the receipt, placing my keys in my hand as well.
       "Go put those in my pants pocket," I instructed, handing them back.  I
looked the receipt over as he ran to do my bidding.  He was only allowed to
purchase what was on the list, nothing more, and I decided whether or not
something was needed.  The receipt proved that he had followed my instructions.
Sending him for a soda, I had him return to his place as my footstool.  It was
almost an hour later before I let him crawl out from beneath my feet,
instructing him to take my cock in his mouth.
       "Don't suck.  I'm going to piss, and you're going to drink it."
       I saw his eyes widen a little bit, but he held his head still.  Relaxing
my bladder, I let my stream gush forth.
       He sucked and swallowed quickly, coughing a little at the first blast of
the hot, tangy liquid.  Watching him I smiled, knowing he was feeling humiliated
and degraded.
       "Yeah, there you go, bitch.  That's just what you deserve."
       He continued to suck and swallow until my cock was drained dry.
       "Yes, Sir," he licked his lips.  "Thank you, Sir."
       "Tomorrow you empty the refrigerator and wipe it all out, and clean the
oven.  Did you vacuum the office upstairs today?"
       "Yes, Sir."
       "Well, my shower doors need to be scoured, and you can clean your
bathroom too."
       "Yes, Sir."
       I had assigned him to the small bathroom at the top of the stairs, having
him clean everything of his out of the one on the first floor.  There was just a
toilet and a sink, a small medicine cabinet, and a small, walk in shower.  What
there wasn't room for, he had to keep in his bedroom, and all of the linens and
towels were stored downstairs in the cabinet next to my bathroom.
       "I'm going to want steak and a baked potato for supper, and a salad."
       "Yes, Sir."
       "Now go pack my lunch."
       He shuffled away into the kitchen, and I went back to watching my show,
yawning and stretching and ready for bed by the time that it was over.  Once
again, I found my bed turned down and my clothes for the next day laid out, my
dirty clothes picked up and put away in the laundry.
       Larry came in the following day, and I ended up having him stock the
shelves because Eric never showed.  He didn't grumble about it, though I could
tell that he wasn't very happy.  I called Mr. Rees to inform him of Eric's
absence."I'll come down and give you men a hand."
       "No, that's alright," I said to him over the phone.  "Larry and I can
handle it.  I just thought you should know."
       He thanked me and assured me that he would have a talk with Eric.  I
assisted the next customer, then went to help Larry out.
       "I guess you're not such a bad boss," he said, his eyes avoiding me as he
paid me the compliment.
       "Well, thank you.  I do appreciate all the hard work you do around here."
       "Well, I guess I couldn't do your job anyway.  I take care of my Mom, so
I can't be here every day."
       I looked at him.  "How old is your Mom?" I asked.
       "Ninety four.
       "Whew."
       "You got a girlfriend?" he asked me.
       I froze for a moment, and was sure that my face flushed.
       "No," I shook my head.
       He eyed me over.  "Ever make it with a guy?"
       His forwardness surprised me, and I shot him a look.  He met my eyes,
looked down at his feet, then looked up at me again.
       "Uh, yeah, in fact, I have." I answered.
       He smiled and went back to his work.  When the next customer came in, he
just glanced at me, letting me go to take care of him.  As I stood behind the
counter waiting for our patron to make his choices, I had a good view of Larry
just a few aisles over.  Somewhere in his mid-forties, he wasn't a bad looking
guy.  Somewhat tall and lanky, he had slate black hair that was beginning to
fade to grey, thinning in the front with a small, circular bald spot on top.
The skin on his long face was rugged, but it just added to his masculinity, as
did the well trimmed moustache he wore on his otherwise clean shaven face.
Though not broad in the shoulders or big in the arms, he carried himself with a
certain strength and surety.

       "Twenty six fourteen," I rang up the purchase.
       I went to help finish the shelf, then started to wrap up my day.
       "Maybe you and I could get together some weekend," Larry offered as I
slipped on my jacket.
       "Sure," I replied, intrigued by the thought that he was coming on to me.
"Maybe next weekend."
       He smiled and nodded.
       "I'll see you Monday then."
       I flipped out my keys and headed out the back door, but before I drove
home there was a shop that I wanted to stop at.  By the time I walked in the
door, my dad was already dishing up my supper.
       "Take my shoes off first," I said before he sat down.  I threw my bags to
the side and served myself up a plate.
       "Get all your jobs done?"
       "Yes, Sir."
       "I'm going to inspect them."
       "Yes, Sir."
       He knew that I had been checking his work every day, but it was important
that I told him that I would.  I was in control, and he wanted to be assured
that I knew that.
       "Thank you for checking my work, Sir," he had said the other night after
I had walked around and inspected the floors and carpets.
       "When you're done cleaning all this up," I indicated the dishes, "you're
going to flush your asshole out.  I want a clean pussy to fuck tonight."
       "Yes, Sir."
       He finished eating before I did, and sat and waited until I was done,
leaving everything on the table until I got up to take my shower.  Following me
into the bathroom with a fresh towel, he stood off to the side until I
undressed, then picked up all of my clothes.
       "Just a pair of boxers," I instructed him before he left.
       They were lying on the counter ready for me when I stepped out.  It was
hot and steamy in the bathroom, so I opened the door to let some of it out as I
dried myself off, pulling on my boxers and leaving the towel on the floor.  My
slave would expect to find it there, and would serve his purpose by picking it
up.
       One of his purposes.
       My father understood his purpose as my slave very well, and thanked me
often for understanding his need, thanked me passionately for treating him as a
slave should be treated.  I had learned very quickly the depth to which he had
committed himself to this life style, and was only happy to provide it for rim.
It gave me both the power and the permission to treat him however I chose,
ordering him to perform any menial task, however degrading and humiliating.
       "I bought some pretties for you, bitch," I said as I picked up the bags I
had set aside.  "Here, put these on."
       Digging in the bag, I pulled out a short, sheer little black skirt and a
pair of full length black nylons, and handed them to him.  He blushed a deep red
as he took them from my fingers.  Perhaps a little reluctantly, he put them one.
       I started laughing like crazy.  He looked ridiculous.
       "The problem is, you're too fucking hairy," I remarked.  "Take it back
off."
       "Yes, Sir," he sounded relieved.  I held out my hand and he gave them
back to me.
       "Now you're going to go run some water into the tub, and you're going to
shave yourself from your neck to your toes.  You can leave your arms hairy, but
I want your pits shaved, as well as your crotch and the crack of your ass.  Ass
cheeks, too.  Don't worry about your back."
       He stared down at his legs.
       "Yes, legs too.  Just like a woman."
       "Yes, Sir."
       "And take your time.  I don't want to find a single hair on you when
you're done."
       "Yes, Sir."
       He moved immediately away and went to start the tub, then went upstairs,
running water into the douche bottle to fill his asshole with.  Grabbing a soda,
I decided to pull on some pants and take a walk around the back yard.
       A lot of the spring plants had started growing, bursting up in bright
green foliage.  At the foot of the thicket of cedars along the northern lot
line, daffodils were already in bloom, with the tulips not far behind.  A lot of
the other plants growing here and there I couldn't name, but my Mom had planted
a whole variety of different things, and there was always something blooming in
the yard.  Shirtless, I could feel the sun's rays warming my skin, even though
it was only a few hours away from setting.  Strolling to the stone wall, I
stopped and looked at it, my mind automatically organizing the steps I would
take to lay the cap on.  After that I just had to install the gate, which would
open onto the stone path that led down into the ravine.  We didn't actually own
the ravine.  The city owned it.  But it was basically left undisturbed accept by
adventurous and curious kids.  I had spent a lot of time down there myself when
I was younger.
       I glanced back at the house, wondering how long it would take for my dad
to finish his task.  When I finally went in to check on him, he was just drying
himself off with the towel that I had used earlier.
       "Stand up straight and face me."
       He turned toward me, the towel hanging at his side.  Holy fuck, my dad
had a hot body.
       "Turn around."
       He spun slowly in a circle, coming to a stop when he faced me again.  I
had stepped up to him, my hand cupping his smooth, hairless crotch.  It felt
awesome in my fingers.
       "Now go put on your pretties," I told him.
       He ducked out of the bathroom, throwing the towel in the laundry before
going to obey.  Stripping off my pants, I threw them onto my bed and went to
inspect my new little bitch.
       "That's much better," I said as I relaxed onto the couch, my dad
squirming before me as he modeled his new girly clothing.  His shaved body made
him look ten years younger, and the skirt and nylons made him look like a
sissy.  "Now you're my pretty little whore."
       He blushed again, fighting to keep his hands from covering his crotch.
       "Is my pussy all clean and ready to fuck?"
       "No, Sir," he shook his head.
       "You mean you didn't clean my pussy?" I commanded.
       "I have to empty one more time, Sir."
       "Well, until you're ready, you can kiss my feet."
       I picked up the new issue of Garden Design as my dad went to his knees,
and started flipping through the pages.  There were some colorful shots of some
familiar looking plants, and I read their names, wondering if I would find any
of them blooming in the yard this summer, suddenly finding myself interested in
them and reading the articles off to the side of each one, my dad slurping
gratefully at my feet.  I turned a few more pages, and there was an article on
spring clean up does and don'ts as well, offering tips on how to clean up the
flower beds.  I decided I had better learn a little bit more about it, and was
engrossed in the article by the time my dad left to finish cleaning out his
asshole, returning shortly with the lube and a hot rag.  I set the magazine
aside.
       "Did you look at yourself in the mirror, bitch?" I asked as I got off the
couch.
       He nodded, casting his eyes down as he blushed.  I ran my hand across his
smooth chest, pinching his nipples.
       "Does it make you happy to be dressed like a little female bitch?"
       He didn't have to answer.  His cock told me what I needed to know,
pushing the sheer skirt out in front of him. I reached beneath the folds of lace
and gave it a squeeze.
       "Yes, Sir."
       I lifted his left arm and ran my hand down his hairless armpit, feeling
the smooth softness of it as I stepped behind him, pressing my bare chest
against his back and wrapping my arm around him and ran my hands over his chest
again.
       "How does it feel to be a hairless little cunt," I breathed heavily into
his ear.
       "It feels incredible, Sir."
       I slid my hand down and around to cup his ass cheek, my finger trailing
up and down the crack.

       "Bend over and show me that hot little pussy."
       He bent at the waist, reaching back to pull his ass cheeks apart.  I wet
my finger, moistening the tight, pink little hole.
       "There," I laughed out loud, "now it does look like a little sissy
cunt."  My fingers continued down between his legs to stroke his hairless balls.
       "You want me to fuck that little girlie pussy, don't you cunt."
       "Yes, Master," he groaned heavily.
       The fact that he called me Master told me he was falling deeper into
submission.  Putting a dollop of lube onto my thumb, I slid it up into his
asshole.
       "You're nothing but a slave and a cunt, aren't you?"
       "Yes Master.  Thank you Master."
       I worked my thumb in and out of is hole, stimulating it, bringing him
closer and closer to sexual abandon.
       "You've become quite a pathetic little bitch, begging your own son to
fuck you like a whore, eager to suck my cock like a woman.  You're even happy
that I made you shave your body and dress like one, aren't you?  You're not even
a man any more.  Just a hairless little slave cunt."
       "Yes Master," he was panting heavily.  "Thank you Master."
       My cock was rigid and poking out through the fly of my boxers.
       "And you're happier than you've ever been in your life," I growled into
is ear.
       "Yes, Master," he replied, tears running down his cheeks.  He was
embarrassed and humiliated, and loving every minute of it.  His own son had made
him his bitch.
       "Do you want to suck me, bitch?
       "Yes Master."
       "You want my cock in your mouth?"
       "Yes Master."
       "Why?"
       The question caused him to pause of only a moment.
       "To thank you, Master."
       "To thank me for what?"
       "For using this little bitch like a man should,  Master."
       "That's what you need, isn't it?  You need to be constantly reminded that
you're nothing but a little pussy slave and a cunt."
       "Yes Master.  Thank you Master."
       I stuck my thumb in his mouth for him to suck it clean, then sat back on
the couch.
       "Come show me how grateful you are that your mouth is just a fuck hole
for my cock, bitch."
       He fell to his knees, only too eager to make his mouth my cunt.
       "That's right," I said as he dove down on it, swallowing it entirely.
"Now you're just a pretty little whore who's only purpose is to please your
man."
       He was moaning fervently, his cock so hard it was leaking pre-cum that
dripped off in long strands.  There was no question that he thrived on being my
slave, just as I thrived on being his Master.

       "Go get me a soda."
       He bound away, popping the can open and presenting it to my on his knees.
       "Now grease up my pussy and drop it on top of my dick."
       Obeying, he straddled my lap, reaching behind him to grab my cock and
guide it into his asshole.  With my left hand raised to cradle the back of my
head, I sat back to drink my soda, watching as he fucked himself on my cock.
       "Pull your balls out of the way, bitch, I want to watch my cock fuck my
pussy."
       "Yes, Master," he moaned as he rode up and down on my cock.  He spread
his legs even further, the pink ring of his asshole caressing my cock like a
pair of lips, my shaft hard, red, and glistening as it slid in and out.

       "There you go, bitch, now you know what you're real purpose is."
       His cock was still leaking, its head poking out from between his forearm
and his abdomen.  Spitting in my hand, I grabbed his cock and started stroking
it.  Moaning, he started to ride my cock even harder.
       "Yeah, that's right, whore, give me a good fuck."
       He blew his load onto my chest, gasping and heaving, his asshole
tightening around my cock and pulling my load up from my balls.
       "Yeah, yeah, fuck yourself on that cock, whore."  I couldn't hold it back
any longer.  Biting my lower lip, I grabbed his hips and held him in place as my
cock erupted inside of him, his body glistening with sweat.
       "Get something to drink and relax for the rest of the evening," I pushed
him off of my lap.
       "Thank you, Master," he stumbled backward, still high from the sexual
rush.  "May I take a shower, Master?"
       "Yes," I waved him away, wiping off my chest with the damp rag.  "Stay
naked afterward."  He pranced hurriedly up the stairs, his ass cheeks puckering
back and forth, returning a little while later to get a beer from the fridge.  I
had pulled my old PS1 out of the console beneath the television and plugged in
one of my video games.  It had been months since I had played, but I found it
less entertaining than I used to, my mind less on the game and more on all of
the changes that had happened in my life.  Within just a couple of months I had
gone from a kid in high school to a manager of a hardware store and the Master
of my own house, my own father, literally, bowing down to me.  My slave and my
bitch, he took care of all of the household chores and obeyed my every command,
gratefully submitting himself to be used by me sexually.

    The power and responsibility of both roles were a rush.