The human footstool

Last night I went to Sir Larry's as part of my weekly training schedule. There will be more on this to come, but for now I just want to discuss a specific service I provided last night. After we had fooled around and He came, he took me to the living room and ordered me on all fours. He took a seat on the couch, turned on the BBC, and used me as a human foot stool for about twenty to thirty mins.

This was the first time this has ever really happened to me, and I have to admit, I rather enjoyed it. For anyone who has ever read Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, you'll be familiar with his assertion that technology combined with the fast pace of modern human life leaves us almost no time to just think. To stop trying to engage and just think. Last night, on all fours with Sir's sneaker tied to my face and his feet resting on my back, there was a meditation-like quality to the experience. Whats more, there was a certain privacy I felt down on the floor. Maybe a privacy of thought. In many ways, I was in my own little world. And even more than my own room, or bed...I felt very much like I was in my own private space in the world.

Of course, I can't discount the feeling of the situation itself. Being a human footstool gives the tiniest twinge of humiliation, with the soft contentment of servitude. I was naked on all fours, objectified for the man I serve. It was exhilarating, for sure, and my cock remained full (though not stiff) the entire time. But it was these feelings of servile contentment coupled with the privacy of my own thoughts within that position that truly made the experience worthwhile for me as a boy.

I very much hope for this form of servitude to be a regular part of my training.

Servitude

One of my greatest desires as a boy is to provide service. Sexual, of course, but also domestic. I find it both humbling and infinitely rewarding. For starters, I actually like to clean. With my life so full of academics, internships, jobs, etc... progress can be so difficult to measure. But when I'm cleaning, it allows me to focus on a simple task in front of me. When I'm finished, I can look at the work I have put in and see the obvious results. And when you add in that I'm serving a Man, the pay-off doubles.

Now, this semester has been pretty hard on me time-wise. With an internship, full academic schedule, and three jobs; I had to make a lot of sacrifices. One of the first things to go was servitude. In the past two weeks, the semester has slowly drawn to a close (ONLY TWO MORE FINALS LEFT!), which has freed up some time for me. One of the first things I did was email Sir Larry and BEG him to let me serve him. I'm getting excited right now, even as I type this. I begged him to train me a bit more, push my submission and my obedience. Thankfully, he did.

He instructed me to be at his place at 5. He wouldn't be home from work until around 6:30. He would leave a key for me at the desk. Instructions would be waiting when I arrived. I felt exhilarated by the prospect, and on the day of my service I would anxiously check the time every half hour or so.

I showed up at 5, as instructed. I got the key from the front desk and went up to his apartment. When I got in, I put my bag down and looked for instructions on the front table. They were there; succinct, specific, absolute. A ball gag lay on the table, next to the instructions.

boy,

Welcome. Strip to your underpants. Put the gag in your mouth. Here are your tasks:

1. Clean the guest bathroom.
2. Clean the master bathroom.
3. Clean my sling rack (use windex).

Supplies are on the kitchen counter. I'll be home around 6:30.

Sir

The simplicity of it excited me more than I can describe. There were no frills, no specifically sexy language. I was his servant, and here were my instructions.

Now, I'm not going to describe my labors in detail. No matter how much you may like this blog, I doubt any of you will be particularly enthralled by an epic depiction of cleaning a toilet. hahah. However, I do want to impart just how meaningful each labor was. It is rather difficult to describe, but I really am trying. It isn't that there is a "thrill" in preforming these activities. It's more that there is a sense of....right. I think that is the best word I can find to describe it. Ball gagged, stripped to my white briefs, on my hands and knees scrubbing a bathroom floor (no, not a bathroom floor, Sir Larry's bathroom floor)...it all just felt right. What's more, the fact that he wasn't there only furthered this feeling. It wasn't just a sex game. My worth wasn't measured by how much I could turn him on or anything like that. I was measured by my utility, and my ability to submit to a Dominant man's authority outside of a playspace.

It isn't so much the event that I am looking to describe in this post, so much as what its like to crave that sort of servitude. For me, a lot of my experience as a boy, emotionally speaking, is deeply rooted in the mentoring and fostering that happens between a Sir and boy. But as much as I am a boy who needs to be taken care of, I am also a servant that needs tasks and chores. Being stripped and gagged really helps me get to that servile headspace, but it isn't necessarily a requirement. It's more about being given an order, seeing its value to my Sir, and preforming it with enthusiasm and diligence.

I'm sorry, I know this is somewhat of a rant and one of my more poorly organized posts, but it really is hard to explain. This is one of the areas I am still figuring out about myself. Coming off of a semester that was very light in terms of submission, I find the need to obey welling up inside me more and more each day. I need chores, tasks, orders, rules, discipline....all of it. This need is emotional, sexual, and intellectual; and the more I understand it...the more I can regularly incorporate it into my life.