John's New Life

John, just nineteen was regretting every minute of this stupid party. It was one of the dullest things he had ever experienced and sooner he got a chance to escape, the better. He didn't know when that might be. Instead, he was stuck here for the foreseeable future, not ideal.

The Andersons' house was, to put it bluntly, huge. It had all the things that John had expected, and then more, much more. There were the polished wood floors, the old oil paintings of serious-faced ancestors, but there was also the not unpleasant smell of old money threading through every room, both big and small.

What a life, thought John who had quickly become envious of the life the Andersons must have lived.

However, despite the intense wealth reflected in every corner of the Andersons home, John couldn't wait to leave. He was bored. He had known it was going to be a dull affair in the first place, but father had insisted he come and he had relented. His father had argued was a good opportunity, for both of them, apparently Mr. Anderson valued family and wanted to get to know those closest to his employees.

Despite his father's uncharacteristic insistence his sister had managed to dodge the bullet though.

The main room buzzed with laughter and polite conversation, stuffy, suited types all clustered in little groups with expensive drinks that the bartender had been making without a smile. John, who figured he was the youngest person here by about twenty years, had slipped away as soon as he could. The place was like a labyrinth, but one stuffy corridor led to another and eventually he had ducked into a quiet study he'd found down a side hall.

He thought he might even be able to find his way back eventually.

Inside the medium sized room which smelt of cigars and cologne he breathed a sigh of relief then looked around. The shelves were packed with thick books, old fashioned ring binders and a series of photos lined the desk, all women, neatly placed in a row. John slouched slowly into a leather chair, careful not to move or damage anything and the pulled out his phone. He scrolled through notifications, the news, anything to distract himself whilst trying to pretend, to the other guests at least, that he wasn't here at all.

He didn't care about the people here. He certainly didn't want to network, as his father had put it, nor did he particularly want to be introduced to the next second Chair of Anderson and Barnes, or whatever it was they called people here. He especially didn't want to run into Mr. Anderson, not again. He had an unsettling way of looking at John. He just hung around a little too long  just a little too long, his gaze lingering in a way that made John's skin crawl. John had caught that look from Mr Anderson when he had got here and it made him nervous. Mr. Anderson had smiled clapped him on the shoulder and called him a good-looking young lad.

John asked himself what it was about Mr Anderson that was so damned unsettling, the truth was he didn't know.

Behind John the door creaked open, and a faint stream of piano music slipped in from the hallway, the party sounding like it was sneaking in. John's thumbs paused mid-scroll on his phone. He looked up, stomach tightening when he saw Mr. Anderson standing in the doorway. It was the last thing that he needed.

Mr. Anderson was a tall man, slim, and immaculately dressed. Tonight he was wearing a dark, simple suit. Simple, but it still looked expensive, John didn't know what about it that made it seem expensive to him, perhaps just its proximity to the man who he knew to be wealthy. For a long, anxiety filled moment Mr. Anderson just stood there, a dark silhouette, gaze flicking around the room before settling menacingly on John.

The door clicked ominously shut behind the older man, muffling the party's sounds once again, leaving John feeling isolated. The study suddenly felt even smaller, and John felt warm under the collar. He said nothing.

"Hiding out, John? Needed a break from the crowd?" Mr. Anderson asked. His voice smooth, almost friendly, but with an edge that made John uneasy. There was something almost predatorial about the man as he moved further into the room, he was very much in-between John and the door, making an escape seem unlikely.

John forced an awkward smile, tucking his phone into his pocket, wondering what he could say to sound unwelcoming without being rude.

"Yeah, I just wanted some quiet, parties aren't exactly my thing." He said, his voice sounding much younger and smaller than he'd like. The older man was extremely intimidating.

Mr. Anderson studied him for a moment, his eyes sharp and his presence looming large. It struck John that he probably wasn't supposed to be in here, the words private study jumped into his mind. If it was private, then perhaps it should have been locked. The older man leaned on the edge of the solid antique looking desk.

The silence stretched.

"It can be overwhelming for some can't it? All those people, all those expectations."

Mr. Anderson pushed off from the desk and took a step closer to John, his smile felt dangerous and John shifted uncomfortably. Those eyes held a gleam of authority that made John's heart pound harder, it was odd.

"You know, John," he began, his voice taking on a low, almost conspiratorial tone, as if whispering in secret "I could do a lot for your father and his career. A recommendation from me goes a long way in this town."

Once again John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands gripping the armrests of the leather chair as he looked to try and move backwards into space that didn't exist.

"Yeah, he tells me that you are Mr Big around here or something."

Mr. Anderson nodded and took another step closer, his presence increasingly imposing, he was Mr Big.

"I could do a lot for you too, John. Money, prestige, connections. Would that be so bad, to have someone looking out for you like that?"

John's mouth felt dry, his body was tense, his fingers rigid. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, the words that would get him out of her.

"I guess not, Sir, I mean I don't know."

Mr. Anderson's smile widened, but it wasn't a smile anymore, it was a grin that was both predatory and hungry. He leaned in closer and his cologne swallowed John whole, the scent was thick and intoxicating.

"I don't ask for much in return, John. Just a little cooperation. A little something that you can give me, the one thing you must give."

John's swallowed, his heart pounding as Mr. Anderson's hand reached up and took hold of his jaw. The strong, firm touch sending a shiver down his spine. Mr Anderson assessed him as if he were property.

"You see, John, I have needs," Mr. Anderson murmured, his voice a low rumble. "And you, my boy, are going to fulfil them. isn't that right, John?"

John froze, his mouth dry. He felt totally trapped, overwhelmed and pinned under the weight of Mr. Anderson's gaze and the sheer intensity of his presence.

"I don't know what you mean."

John stammered, his voice barely a whisper, he was certain he did know what the older man wanted and he was having none of it.

Mr. Anderson's fingers tightened slightly on John's jaw. "Oh, I think you do," he said, his voice a low purr, dripping with confidence. "You know exactly what I want and you are going to give it to me."

Inside John could feel the desire to submit to the older man rise inside him. Mr Anderson was strong, powerful, confident and that made him hard to say no to. He hated what was being suggested, he told himself that it could never happen, yet there was something about the way he was being told it would happen, not asked, that made Mr Anderson impossible to refuse.

"Now, be a good boy and show me what you can do for me."

John froze.

"Sir,"

He paused.

"I don't think I..."

John lost his words as Mr Anderson cut in.

"I am used to people doing as I tell them. I can spot a submissive from a long way away."

John's heart pounded in his ears, the sound was tribal and intense, he didn't much like being called submissive. He felt as if he was trapped, cornered, but he was also strangely drawn in by the older man's words. He knew what Mr. Anderson was implying, and the realization sent a shiver down his spine. He was in deep, and he wasn't sure how to get out, the inclination to do what he was told felt stronger than ever.

John's heart raced, his mind a whirl of confusion and alarm. He wasn't gay, had never even considered it, but Mr. Anderson's touch was stirring something unfamiliar, something unsettling within him.

"What--what do you mean, what is it you want from me?"

Part of John tried to flee, but he remained frozen in place.

Mr. Anderson was calm but his face serious, it was clear to John that this was a man that didn't joke around. He took what he wanted.

"Submission, obedience, service, intimacy."

The older man no longer attempted to be anything but direct

"I'm not gay." John stammered, his voice barely a whisper, he wasn't gay, but the tone of his voice lacked any confidence, he wouldn't have believed his own words either. He doubted that the older man really cared less about what he had to say.

Mr. Anderson leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur. "Does that really matter, John?"

He unbuttoned the top button on John's shirt.

John pulled back slightly, his mind spinning with confusion and a growing sense of unease, the situation was tense and his body was betraying him.

"I, I don't think this is a good idea. My father works for you and..."

Mr. Anderson smiled his response.

"Your father knows exactly what is happening here. He agreed to all of it."

John's eyes widened in shock at the thought. "What? He agreed to what, exactly? What's going on?"

"He agreed to everything."

John froze, he looked to the door, but once again didn't move. He questioned his own motivations, why was he still here? What was so hypnotic about the older man that stopped him from pushing him away?

"But--but what does that mean? What exactly do you want from me?"

He asked again, hoping that this wasn't what it appeared to be.

"I want you, John." The older man stated clearly. "I want you on your knees, sucking my cock, whenever I want it, wherever I choose. I want you bent over any surface any time of day, ready to take my hard cock deep inside you. I want you to be my willing fucktoy, John. Always ready, always eager to serve my needs."

John's mouth went dry, his body tensing as the graphic words washed over him, he hated how his body responded to the words, to the idea, to the cruel power of the older man. He felt a mix of horror and unwanted arousal, his mind racing with the implications of what Mr. Anderson was saying, of the reality of what was happening.

"But--but I'm not--"

Mr. Anderson cut him off with a harsh laugh as if this was already agreed on and John had no power to say no.

"All that matters is what I want, and what you're going to give me. You will be at my beck and call, day or night, ready to fuck, to suck, to do whatever I desire. You will be my slave, John, completely mine to use and abuse as I see fit."

The words were brutal, humiliating, and yet they stirred something deep and primal within him. He felt a wave of shame wash over him, but also a dark, thrilling anticipation, he questioned what was happening and his own reaction.

"You will be my perfect little slut, always ready, always willing. And you will thank me for the privilege."

John's body tensed as the graphic words washed over him along with images of sexual servitude. He felt a mix of horror and unwanted arousal, his mind racing with the implications of what Mr. Anderson was saying.

"Your cock is hard John, I know it, you are here to serve me. Give in."

Mr. Anderson's words cut deep.

"They brought you here for me to fuck, John. How does that make you feel? Like a little slut?"

John felt his body going rigid, he wished his hard on away but as the older man undid another button on his shirt the situation only grew worse, he was powerless. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't process the sheer audacity and entitlement in Mr. Anderson's voice, his confidence was immense.

Mr. Anderson turned and stepped towards the door. For a moment John thought that he was leaving but it didn't happen. Instead, Mr Anderson reached out and locked the door with a quiet, ominous click.

John's eyes darted to the door, then back to Mr. Anderson, his heart pounding wildly, he felt the growing need to submit to this man, and he understood none of it.

"What--what are you doing?" He stammered.

Mr. Anderson turned back to him.

"Ensuring our privacy, John," he said, calm and measured. "Now, answer my question. How does it make you feel, knowing that your father brought you here for me?"

"I--I don't know," John managed to say, his voice hoarse and weak.

Mr. Anderson took a step closer, his presence overwhelming and threatening. "You don't need to understand, John," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You just need to obey. Now, tell me, how does it make you feel? Tell me."

John's body trembled, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He felt a strange, unwanted heat building within him, a mix of fear, humiliation, and something else--something darker and more primal. He hated his own arousal.

"I..."

It was all John could manage. He looked down to see his erection bulging against his trousers.

Mr. Anderson's eyes narrowed, he seemed to be growing more intense now. "Have you ever thought about sucking cock before, John?" he asked, his voice a low, taunting whisper as the room grew hotter.

John's face flushed pink with a mix of anger and embarrassment, his eyes dropped to the floor. "Never," he protested, his voice not as firm as he had hoped. "I'm not--"

Mr. Anderson cut him off with a low laugh, clearly unconvinced by John's half-hearted denial.

"You think about it." Mr Anderson stated bluntly. "You think about it all the time. You are certainly thinking about it now, thinking about dropping to your knees and servicing me because you want to be a good boy."

John continued to look down, a wave of shame washing over him, consuming him, he felt his weakness grow. He hated that his body was reacting this way, hated that he couldn't control it, that he wasn't even trying. He watched in horror as Mr. Anderson began to unbuckle his belt, his hands moving with practiced ease, he knew what was coming and John knew that he wouldn't stop it.

"Sir?" John stammered, his voice barely a whisper, the battle lost. He felt rooted to the spot, frozen and obedient, his body refusing to move even as his mind screamed at him to leave.

Mr. Anderson slid his trousers off and placed them over the back of a chair, his eyes never left John's face. "I told you, John. I'm going to fuck you, and you will obey, but first you are going to suck my cock."

John froze as the moment hit him, his heart pounded in his chest, his cock throbbed. He felt the older man's immense presence, the weight of his dominance pressing down on him, like there was a natural order to things, to this. He couldn't understand why he wasn't running, why he was still sitting there, his body betraying him with every passing second, but the older man was totally in charge now.

Mr. Anderson's voice was a low growl, commanding and sure, there was simply no room for doubt.

"Learn your place."

The protest that followed was weak, hesitant, and totally unconvincing.

"Please, Mr. Anderson, don't make me."

John pleaded but he was lost and he knew it.

Mr. Anderson's grip on the situation tightened, his urgency rising, his voice dropping to a commanding growl. "Now, get on your knees, John."

John hesitated for a moment, his body tense with resistance, it was too much but the weight of Mr. Anderson's dominance pressed down on him. Inevitably, almost without thinking he found himself slowly sliding off the chair, sinking to his knees, ready to serve.

He watched Mr. Anderson, tall and imposing, begin to unbutton his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate, there was a look of victory in his eyes and John felt defeat. The older man discarded the shirt displaying his torso, lean and muscular for his age, a testament to his disciplined life.

He removed his boxers and presented John with his cock, hard, rigid, and in comparison, to John, huge.

John's eyes widened in shock and awe; he felt a wave of submission flow over him. He had never seen another man like this, never been this close to something so intimate and raw, so powerful. His own body betrayed him, his arousal growing despite his reluctance, his cock straining against his trousers. He hated the way his body was responding, the way it seemed to have a will of its own. No not its own, he thought, his body was obeying this mans will.

Mr. Anderson's voice was commanding, leaving no room for argument. "Leave now or stay and accept that you are going to serve me."

John's gaze flicked up to Mr. Anderson's face, then back down to the older man's hard cock. John felt a wave of humiliation wash over him, he was caught, trapped in this moment, his body and mind at war with each other, he couldn't understand what was happening.

Mr. Anderson's grip on John's hair tightened as he aggressively guided his head closer to his erection. John knew he was broken as he parted his lips, allowing Mr. Anderson's hard cock to slide victoriously into his mouth. The taste and sensation were overwhelming, foreign yet intensely intimate and John felt a surge of submission, his mind racing with the reality of what he was doing, this was the way of things.

He was so big, powerful and confident that what he wanted was the only thing that seemed to matter anymore.

"Deeper." Mr. Anderson instructed, his voice a low growl, leaving no room for thought or disobedience as he pushed his cock further into John's mouth. The young man fought for a moment as the two hands on his head pulled him forward, but his resistance was pointless and he quickly followed the olderman's instructions.

John's eyes watered as he took the older man deeper, obediently into his throat, his jaw aching slightly at the strange situation.

His hands gripped Mr. Anderson's thighs for support, his fingers digging into the firm muscle as he struggled to accommodate the size, but this was unacceptable.

"Hands behind your back."

Came Mr Anderson's instructions and John obeyed without thought.

"That's it, John," Mr. Anderson murmured, his voice thick with approval, power, and desire. "Good boy. Take it all."

John's body trembled with a mix of humiliation and intense arousal; unlike he had ever thought possible. He felt utterly degraded by what he was doing, he felt totally used, but also strangely alive, his own cock throbbing with a need he couldn't deny. He worshipped the man's cock with his mouth and was thankful to be allowed to do so.

Mr. Anderson's hips moved in rhythm with John's mouth, and he continued to take more aggressive control, fucking Johns mouth as he became a passenger. The salty taste of cum on his lips and tongue was intoxicating and confusing, but just the beginning.

Mr. Anderson abruptly pulled back, his cock slipping out of John's mouth.

The sudden absence of Mr. Anderson's cock left him feeling both relieved and strangely empty, his mind was spinning with the intensity of the experience and the realisation that it wasn't over.

"Get up," Mr. Anderson ordered, his voice stern and commanding, totally free of doubt.

John hesitantly rose to his feet, his body trembling slightly. He felt a wave of relief mixed with a strange sense of loss, his mind racing with what had just happened and what might come next, deep down he knew where this was going.

Mr. Anderson's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and unyielding, his dominance absolute.