I stood alone in the empty corridor. A few yards away, an ice machine rumbled. Further down, the elevator chimed. I jerked my head in its direction like a startled animal and waited to see if anyone had emerged from the vestibule. No one did. I willed my nerves back down.
Horny online chats were one thing. Coming to Sir’s hotel room was another. I wanted this so badly, but my anxiety and apprehension threw up barrier after barrier to sabotage me. There would always be work projects that demanded my attention. There would always be friends who wanted to make plans at the last minute. I committed to dismissing every one of those mental roadblocks when they arose. I was proud of myself for getting this far.
I already flaked on Sir once before. He graciously accepted my apology and backed off while I sorted myself out. It wasn’t long before I started messaging him again. He was patient yet firm in guiding me toward a second meeting. It was inevitable. I knew I wouldn’t get another chance if I flaked again. This was it. Now or never.
In this coda from “Poker with the guys,” Didrik explains how the Keypad transformed him from boss to slave.
My name is Didrik, and I used to be the boss. It was fun while it lasted, I guess. I came into my new job full of ideas and initiative, but it didn’t take long for me to learn my true place in the scheme of things. I’d been on the job six months when my five employees—Bill, Doug, Jim, Lou, and Steve—became the bosses of me. Sure, they still follow my instructions and preserve the illusion of being my direct reports at the office. The truth, however, is far more complex. They own me, but they force me to keep up the façade of leadership. They tell me what they want from upper management, and I make it happen, no matter what. I arrive early and stay late to do my job and much of theirs. They set their hours and tell me what work they’re willing to do. Any work left undone is my responsibility.
You might be wondering how I ended up so deeply under their control. You might also ask what their hold over me is. Why do I continue to comply, even as it makes my personal and professional life increasingly difficult? The answers to these questions are equally complex.
Time slowed to a crawl. Each pace down the hallway felt a mile long. With their large, rough hands, the guys placed steady pressure on Didrik’s shoulders and pushed him toward the bedrooms. Didrik could hear his heartbeat pounding in time with his footsteps. His cock stiffened. He adjusted his gait to lessen the friction against his pants, but the strange walk caught the guys’ attention. At the end of the hallway, Doug reached around from behind Didrik and stroked his erection.
“Well, well, well,” Doug said. The unlit cigar between his clenched teeth gave his voice a raw, menacing edge. “Looks like boss boy is enjoying himself.”
Steve stood in the doorway and pulled Didrik closer by his chin. “How about that? You excited, boy?”
The following excerpt is from Open House, which is available exclusively for purchase on Kindle.
“Long time, no see.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Look, I’d prefer to keep this strictly business, if you don’t mind. I’m not the same person I used to be when we—”
Jordan took slow steps toward me. My voice trailed off as he got closer. He had no more than three or four inches on me, but his attitude might as well have added another foot. He firmly clenched my chin and forced me to look up at him.
Despite their opposite personalities, Connor and Kyle have a happy marriage, and they’ve decided it’s time to buy a place together. Their differences have made house hunting a challenge, but after months of searching, they’ve finally found something they both love, and they agree to check it out.
Connor’s excitement gives way to anxiety when he meets Jordan, the listing agent. Jordan isn’t exactly Connor’s ex, but the two have a history. The unexpected meeting reawakens Connor’s long-buried, secret fetish for financial domination. The kink becomes impossible for him to ignore in the face of Jordan’s magnetic superiority and increasing demands for cash. As Connor and Kyle navigate the homebuying process, Connor’s double life exerts increasing pressure on his bank balance and his marriage.
Open House is a 7,300-word short story. All content in this story is fictional and describes activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.
Thirty minutes later, Didrik pulled into the driveway of a nondescript ranch house at the end of a dead-end suburban street, exactly the type of place he imagined someone like Steve living. The guys’ firm handshakes and offers of whiskey and cigars put Didrik at ease, and after playing a few hands, he felt less like their interloping boss and more like one of their peers.
“Hey, do we have any more chips?” Doug called from the kitchen during a snack break.
“Don’t ask me,” Bill said. “Jim was supposed to do this shopping this week.”
“No way, man,” Jim said, returning from the garage with a fresh bottle of whiskey and a bag of ice. “I mowed the lawn this week. It was Steve’s turn to go shopping.”
Didrik was confused and intrigued by the conversation. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You all… live together?”
Didrik liked his job. It was challenging, the pay was great, and it was a bit of a coup for an early-career guy like him to land it. He was only 29, and he’d never managed a team before, but his years of experience with SalesFarm, the software platform the company recently adopted, had won him the job.
He was young, full of energy, and eager to prove himself. There was just one problem: He didn’t fit in.
When he was introduced to his team on the first day, Didrik expected to meet a group of recent college grads, with maybe one guy in his thirties who’d changed careers. Instead, he found himself awkwardly shaking hands with Bill, Doug, Jim, Lou, and Steve. Every guy he managed had at least 15 years on him, and their attitude in the workplace was unorthodox, to say the least.
Harry tapped his fingertips against his desk, growing more impatient with each passing minute. He’d never had to wait ten minutes for an employee to respond to his emails, and the lack of response had gone from inconvenient to irritating. He scrolled through the list of his direct reports on the company’s instant messenger client, and his brow furrowed when he saw a small, yellow circle denoting inactive next to each of their names and portraits.
“It’s ten-thirty in the morning,” Harry said to himself. “Where the hell is everybody?”
Rick tapped a stylus against his tablet screen, closing out the notes he’d taken about the new client sitting in front of him. While he looked like any other middle-aged man going through an identity crisis, Stephen was an unusual case for a life coach like Rick in that he wasn’t looking for professional mentoring or goal setting. Stephen had sought Rick’s help to overcome a very specific, and very embarrassing, problem.
“I just can’t bring myself to go to a therapist,” Stephen said as Rick looked up from his tablet. “It’s too humiliating. Do you think you can help me?”
Rick puffed his cheeks out and exhaled sharply. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I want to help, but I don’t know if I’m the right kind of professional for your, shall we say unique situation. I’ve never even heard of findom before. I’ll need to do some research.”
Marc’s hands trembled as he reached for his cell phone. As soon as he had it safely in his sweaty palm, a pair of gloved hands clamped onto his shoulders and pulled him roughly back into his chair. Marc sighed with pleasure as the scent of Master’s leather gear filled his nostrils, and the sensation of Master’s hands on his naked body sent waves of arousal radiating outward from each point of contact.
The phone continued to ring, but Marc hesitated to answer. He felt awkward taking this call while sitting naked in his Master’s dungeon. It was a further step in blurring the lines between facets of his life that were, until recently, strictly compartmentalized. Master deserved credit for blurring a lot of those lines Himself, and Marc had a hunch that the bank’s urgent requests to speak to him might be related to his new status as Master’s slave.