The Way Things Are

We all live by unspoken rules. Things we never thought through, we never agreed with anyone, things that just happened because we kinda let them happen without realizing and kinda made them happen without realizing, and if someone asked us why are things like that, the only answer we would have is that this is just the way things are.

Me? I stay late on Wednesdays. Everyone in the office knows it. Not that it's special, I stay late the rest of the week too. It's just that the other days don't matter to me. But for them, I stay late every single day, and that's just the way things are. 

They don't know why and they don't ask, it's none of their business.

At five o'clock, half the people in the office leave. At six o'clock, nearly all the other half leave. At seven, the few remaining ones leave. I'm almost alone at the building.

Almost.

There is another person here, and that is the reason why I stay late on Wednesdays.

The back of the building doesn't have security cameras. I told them not to put any and the IT guy did it, and I told him to not ask questions for which he already knows he won't get any answer. It's none of his business. After all, I own this building and everything on it and he knows it.

I own it every day of the week... except on Wednesday nights.

I leave my desk and walk to the back of the building, all the way down to to the storage room at the very back. The door is open.

He's sitting there, already waiting for me. Earlier today when he was moping in front of my office he raised his head and looked at me in the eye and I returned his glance. That's all we did. That's all we need. 

No words. That's how we do things, he and I.

I enter and stand there in front of him, and my heart is pounding. I know what follows and I feel the same kind of vertigo I felt the only time I tried base jumping. I open my legs a bit and rest my hands on my back and wait for him to move.

He moves slowly and deliberately, enjoying the effect every single one of his movements has on me. He stands and walks towards me and past me until he reaches the door and closes it. He takes out his key and locks the door.

I shudder when I hear the door lock. I know what it means. He's telling me without words or sight, only with the steel cold sounds behind me, that he controls this place. The rest of the week he may be just the janitor and I may own the building and everything in it, but right now he owns the room... and everything in it.

Everything.

My heart is pounding in my chest as he circles me and stands in front of me, looking at me like  a cat looks at a mouse he just caught.The door is locked and he has the key. He owns everything in the room... and I am in the room.

He owns me.

We don't need words to know that right now when he's standing in front of me, he owns me.

He grabs my head and pulls me towards him and kisses me, but it's not a kiss of love. There's no affection here, maybe not even desire. This kiss feels somehow more violent than a punch to the gut and takes my breath away just as well. He's kissing me because he wants to kiss me, and I don't kiss back, I just stand there and let him kiss me because he wants to kiss me.

His hands move around my body, pulling my clothes apart from their usual places and exploring in every space they can find. One of his hands enters my pants from behind and grabs my ass, and the other is busy undoing the buttons of my shirt, and I let him do it because that's what he wants, and on Wednesday nights he gets what he wants from me.

That's just how it is, because we make it so.

He breaks the kiss and looks at me. He's panting and his eyes have a light on them that no one else has ever seen. This thing that happens between he and me could never happen outside this room or with anyone else, I know it even if he's never told it to me. I know it because he keeps coming back, just like me.

He takes of my tie and smirks and slaps me lightly with it. It's not supposed to hurt, just that hit of a soft strip of silk, but to me it feels like a whip. It doesn't matter what he is hitting me with, what matters is that he is hitting me, and I feel like I deserve it. 

The fact that it was very fucking expensive and I wear it as a symbol of status only makes the whole act stronger: I bought and gave him the instrument to hit me down. In this room, everything I am and do can and will be used against me. 

He walks around me again and slides the tie around my neck like a snake, just to tease me, and then he moves my hands to my back and binds them. The symbol of my power is now the tool of my enslavement.

He knows how he's making me feel and he likes it.

His arms surround me from behind and he's panting on my ear and his crotch is rubbing on my ass. I can feel his hard on through his clothes and mine, and right now I want to feel it without any clothes between us. Just him and his cock on my body, rubbing my will away. When he does this to me I don't want to resist, all I want to do is let him do with me anything he wants.

His hands... his hands on my chest, opening my shirt up and fondling my muscles, that's all I can feel. His fingertips on my nipples. His teeth softly biting on my earlobe, his hot breath on my neck... him, taking full control of me. When he does all that to me I can't think of anything else. He fills my consciousness and my thoughts.

He's back in front of me and he's slowly pulling down the zipper of his overall and shows me how he's not wearing anything under it. All day long he was naked under that overall, waiting for this moment. I feel like in a way, I was naked under my suit and tie, waiting for him as well.

We look at each other, a young man wearing an overall with nothing underneath, and an older man tied with his own tie, with his shirt open and his hairy chest popping out. Our bodies cannot lie.

His body speaks of control, of the confidence of someone who knows he has the power to do whatever he wants. 

Mine?

Mine doesn't speak. My body just listens... and obeys.

He peels my shirt back and off and the more naked I am the more naked I want to be, the more out of balance I am, the more I feel things are outside of my control. I'm having things done to me and I have no say on what's happening.

Have you heard of that giant who was sentenced to carry the weight of the sky on his shoulders? That's me right now when he pushes me down, but I'm not him and I don't have his strength. When his hands push me down I crumble and fall on my knees, looking up at him, thankful for being made to kneel.

He's smiling. 

He pulls down his zipper a bit more and shrugs the top half of his overall. His cock is hard and it's pointing directly at me like an arrow. 

I don't suck his cock. That's not a good description of what happens here. It's more him fucking my mouth and using me to get off. He's the one doing it, the one making it happen, and I just kneel there passively with my hands tied behind my back and let him use me, and after an entire week being in control it feels so great to let go, to finally have someone else be in control and to have all my decisions taken away from me... I'm panting and sweating and I don't moan because his cock fucking my throat doesn't let me to. He's moaning enough for both of us anyway.

I don't think and I don't need to think and I don't want to think and I don't want to need to think and that is what he's giving to me right now, and I love it. I'm just an eager, obedient mouth he can use however he wants.

He grabs my head harder and his hips thrust harder and faster. I can feel tears running down my cheeks as I struggle to take all of him inside me, and I don't care, all I care is to feel that warm, hard cock inside my mouth.

He's almost there, almost at the edge of orgasm. I can hear him in his panting and feel it in the way he thrusts, and I can even smell it on his skin. He's almost there, almost ready...

He's there.

His cock twitches and the first string of cum falls on my tongue, thick and salty. It's the flavor of his orgasm, of his control over me. This is why I came here for. To have him cumming in my mouth, filling me up with his sperm, using me as his cumdump. That's what I am for him and that's what I want to be.

The taste of him in my mouth takes me right to the edge. I'm squirming, feeling how the slightest push will make me cum, and I need it desperately. I had forgotten about my own cock, but it's rock hard, hungry and needy inside my clothes, and when he bows down and grabs one of my nipples I can't hold on any longer. 

I cum, and I keep cumming helplessly in my own clothes while I look at him looking at me. I know what he's seeing right now: a possession of him, a man whose only rule is lust and submission, whom he can make cum by the simple power of his power and the mere touch of his hand.

I can't even hold my self up anymore and my hands are tied. All I can do is twist so my shoulder is the first part to hit the floor when I fall forward and lie at his feet. He won.

He always wins.

It's just how things always happen.

I come here to lose, to be defeated, because a part of me desperately needs to have someone win over me and he gives me what I crave. There is nothing more wonderful than this kind of defeat, than having him rule over me without even saying a word. And this is why I keep coming back. 

He unties my hand and helps me sit up against the wall. I still haven't recovered my breath. Or my will. Or... anything. It always takes a while. I can't do it with him on the room, and he knows it. 

He unlocks the door and then gives a final pat on my head and a final kiss. We never say a single word, but there is a lot that can be said with a kiss when you know how to speak that language.

"Thank you."

"I needed that."

"See you tomorrow."

"See you next week."

He leaves without a word. I will come out of my daze in a while and go home and tomorrow we will be back here wearing our masks. I will be the owner of this company and he will be just the janitor, because that's the way things are.

But next Wednesday we will be back in this room where the masks come off and things can be upside down if we want them to, and we do. And once more, he will take full control and I will submit to him, and he will remind me what a real man is and does and I let him be a man at me, take me and use me, and I will be less of a man, none of a man maybe, maybe just a toy for him... and I will love every second of it.

Because that, and now I truly mean it, that is the way things are.