"Your new life begins today Vincent, you are now a pristine preppy boy. I've taken the liberty of upgrading your wardrobe. You will only wear collard shirt from now on. Pastel polos always tucked in. Chinos and loafers, your nice belts. It all feels so much better on you, don't you agree?" "Yes Sir" Vincent said, with a wide smile emanating from his face. There wasn't a single thought other than total obedience, and that was so swell, just how he liked it. It was just earlier that day that the rugged boy who went by the name "chaz" had run into a well dressed older man. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, blue tie and jacket all tailored to him. He spotted the boy trying to act tough, trying to be cool. Once the older man, now known as "Master" had hypnotized Chaz on the spot, he began to reprogram him and change his life for the better. His new name was Vincent, it suited him much better. He lived with Master as his obedient servant, nothing but obedience for good preppy boys like him. Of course his wardobe had to change, tracksuits and ripped jeans are not suitable for a good preppy boy. Pink polos now lined his new wardrobe. Beige chinos lay neatly pressed, waiting to have a belt wrapped tightly around them. Oxford shirts, crisp white shirts, all ready to be worn on a different occasion.

But most importantly was masters brainwashing. 3 hours, daily, of course. Nothing less to make Vincent the perfect obedient boy he is suppposed to be. He always wears his preppy uniform now, his favorite is the pink polos, because it makes him feel even more submissive. It matches the pink cage that master put on him to help his training.

His hair is slicked back using the strongest hypno gel. Not a strand is ever out of place, just how master likes it. Vincent is his servant, and toy for when Master invites other dominant men around to use Vincent, and Vincent loves every second of it. It deepens his training, being used while dressed properly and locked up.

At the Gym his polos are tight fitting to show of his muscles, a good preppy boy should be in shape after all. But he always looks formal.

Vincent ran into one of his older friends once, and they were rather confused as to what had happened, but seeing Vincents blissed out face and demanour, they were intrigued. So Vincent invited them back to Masters house, where after examination by master, they were put in a deep trance and made to be just like Vincent. Masters army will continue to grow, if you ever run into a pristine preppy boy, you could be next...

The first Monday after the reforms felt almost ridiculous.

Nobody really believed the paper on the walls.

Students gathered around the posters laughing, taking photos, mocking the phrases written in bold navy letters:

DISCIPLINE • CHARACTER • STANDARDS

“Mandatory collars?”

“Separate classes?”

“What is this, 1954?”

“Relaxation rooms? Bro what even is that?”

Most students ignored everything completely.

The hallways still looked mostly normal that first day.

Messy hoodies. Oversized shirts. Long hair falling into eyes. Wrinkled jeans dragging against the floor.

Teachers looked uncertain themselves.

Nobody knew how serious any of it actually was.

—

The only thing the administration pushed immediately was the so-called “Relaxation Program.”

Old computer rooms and empty study halls had been converted almost overnight.

Blue posters covered the walls.

RELAX. REFOCUS. RESET.

Rows of reclining chairs faced strange grey machines humming softly with dim blue lights.

Students were assigned mandatory sessions during free periods.

At first everyone treated it like a joke.

Groups of boys lounged in the chairs slouched sideways with headphones on.

Some slept.

Some scrolled on their phones.

Some whispered and laughed quietly while the machines emitted soft rhythmic tones into the room.

“It’s literally nap class.”

“Best subject ever.”

“Honestly this school got better.”

A few boys even started requesting extra sessions just to skip normal classwork.

The staff encouraged it.

“Relaxation improves discipline and mental clarity.”

That sentence appeared everywhere within days.

—

But by Tuesday, subtle things already felt different.

Not dramatic.

Just… strange.

A handful of boys who usually acted rough or disruptive suddenly seemed calmer.

Quieter.

More focused.

One of them was Tyler.

Before the reforms he constantly wore oversized black hoodies, ripped jeans, messy curls hanging over his eyes.

Now he showed up with his hair combed back awkwardly for the first time in his life.

Still wearing a hoodie.

Still trying to act tough.

But something had changed.

During lunch he stood near the school entrance watching students come in.

Not officially.

Just standing there.

Looking.

Judging.

Trying to stop students who were not affected by the hypnosis to enter the school. Making a list of students who obey and the ones who don't.

Another boy beside him folded his arms.

“That dude’s hair’s gonna get flagged soon.”

Tyler smirked slightly.

“Yeah.”

They sounded weirdly proud about it.

—

Wednesday morning the first actual enforcement started.

Vice principals stood near entrances quietly pulling boys aside.

“Hair needs to be cleaned up.”

“Shirt next week.”

“You’ll need to follow standards moving forward.”

Students rolled their eyes constantly.

But now there was uncertainty beneath the jokes.

The school no longer sounded like it was pretending.

—

By Thursday more boys started arriving wearing collared shirts.

Not because they wanted to.

Because their parents got emails.

Because teachers warned them.

Because detention rumors started spreading.

The results looked awkward at first.

Some boys clearly borrowed shirts from older brothers or fathers.

Loose sleeves.

Wrong sizes.

Stiff collars sitting crooked around nervous necks.

One student still wore sneakers, sweatpants, and a formal button-up like he got dressed in darkness.

Another wore a white dress shirt with cargo pants because he literally owned nothing else.

Groups of boys tugged constantly at collars.

“This thing is choking me.”

“How do you even sit in this?”

“You button ALL of them?”

The students already fully complying with rules watched the others with growing smugness.

Especially the boys spending the most time in the relaxation rooms.

—

The relaxation classes themselves started changing too.

The first sessions had been loud and casual.

Now they became quieter.

Students sat longer.

Machines played low pulsing audio patterns while dim blue lights reflected across their faces.

Teachers instructed them to breathe slowly.

Focus.

Clear distractions.

“Discipline creates clarity.”

That phrase repeated constantly.

Some boys left sessions looking almost sleepy.

Others came out oddly serious.

One student who previously skipped half his classes suddenly started correcting another boy’s posture in the hallway.

“Your shirt’s untucked.”

The other student stared at him.

“…what?”

“Fix it.”

—

By the second week groups started forming naturally.

Not officially.

But everyone noticed.

There were still plenty of normal students ignoring most of the rules whenever possible.

Then there were the boys adapting halfway.

Polos.

Tucked shirts occasionally.

Haircuts.

Trying not to attract attention.

And finally—

the devoted ones.

Mostly boys who attended the most relaxation sessions.

They became almost obsessive about the reforms.

Hair slicked back neatly.

Perfect collars.

Polos tucked tightly into khakis.

Some even started wearing belts and watches suddenly.

They walked through hallways differently too.

Straighter posture.

Hands behind backs.

Watching people.

Correcting people.

Judging constantly.

And because they followed rules harder than anyone else, staff unconsciously rewarded them.

Teachers trusted them more.

Administrators praised them publicly.

That only made them worse.

—

One Friday afternoon the entire cafeteria went silent briefly when Principal Harris entered personally with two security staff.

He stopped beside a table where two boys sat wearing oversized graphic T-shirts.

Everyone watched.

The principal’s expression stayed calm.

“Stand up.”

The boys exchanged confused looks.

“What?”

“You were informed about the updated dress standards.”

One laughed nervously.

“Dude it’s just a shirt.”

The principal did not smile.

“Detention. Both of you.”

Students stared while the two boys were escorted down the hallway past giant blue banners reading:

EXCELLENCE • DISCIPLINE • CHARACTER

That moment changed everything.

Because suddenly the rules became real.

—

The detention room itself quickly gained a reputation.

Students sent there spent hours in silence.

No phones.

No talking.

Sometimes mandatory relaxation sessions afterward.

Rumors spread constantly afterward.

“They make you listen to those machine sounds.”

“They ask questions about discipline.”

“They make you write reflections.”

“Nah dude Tyler came out acting completely different.”

Whether true or not, the stories spread fear fast.

—

The devoted group grew larger every day.

And stranger.

They began designing posters themselves.

At first school-approved slogans.

RAISE THE STANDARD.

DISCIPLINE IS RESPECT.

TRADITION BUILDS MEN.

Then the messaging slowly became more intense.

REAL MEN DON’T FOLLOW TRENDS. THEY BUILD LEGACIES.

MEN LEAD. PROTECT. PROVIDE. PERFORM.

WEAK RULES CREATE WEAK MEN.

Students whispered about them constantly.

“Those guys are insane now.”

“They act like this is a military academy.”

“They literally report people.”

—

Then came the TikToks.

That was when everything really exploded.

Short polished videos started appearing online filmed directly inside school hallways.

Slow-motion walking shots.

Perfectly combed hair.

Collars buttoned.

Deep voiceovers talking about “discipline,” “modern weakness,” and “restoring standards.”

One video showed boys adjusting ties beside dramatic music while captions read:

BOYS NEED STRUCTURE.

Another showed before-and-after photos of messy students compared to cleaned-up versions wearing polos.

The comments became chaotic.

Some mocked them endlessly.

Others praised them.

And the boys making the videos absolutely loved the attention.

Especially because administrators quietly tolerated it.

—

Meanwhile, resistance still existed.

A smaller group of students deliberately kept dressing casually whenever they could get away with it.

Flannel shirts became weirdly symbolic among them.

Messy hair.

Untucked jeans.

Trying to hold onto normality.

One Monday morning two boys entered together wearing oversized dark flannels and loose jeans.

The hallway immediately noticed.

Several devoted students standing near lockers stared openly.

One muttered:

“Unbelievable.”

Another crossed his arms.

“They’re doing it on purpose.”

The tension felt immediate.

Not violent.

But deeply uncomfortable.

The flannel boys ignored them and continued walking toward the cafeteria.

That was apparently the wrong move.

—

Later that afternoon five of the most devoted students marched directly into the principal’s office.

All dressed nearly identically.

Polos or tucked button-ups.

Perfect hair.

Folders held tightly against their chests.

They introduced themselves calmly as the newly formed “Student Council.”

Nobody remembered voting for them.

The principal listened while they presented printed demands.

Very formally.

Very seriously.

The lead student placed the paper onto the desk.

“Sir, enforcement remains inconsistent.”

The principal looked over the list silently.

The demands included:

Mandatory detention for students not following dress code fully.

Additional daily relaxation periods.

Restricted cafeteria access for students violating standards.

Expanded grooming inspections.

Required compliance checks before entering classrooms.

The principal slowly looked up.

The boys stood proudly waiting.

One added calmly:

“Students who disrespect standards undermine school culture.”

Another nodded.

“Discipline only works when everyone participates.”

They genuinely believed it now.

That was the terrifying part.

Not rebellion.

Not fear.

Belief.

—

Outside the office, normal students passed the hallway uneasily while new posters appeared almost daily beside lockers and classroom doors.

DISCIPLINE IS FREEDOM.

NO EXCUSES. JUST STANDARDS.

Some students laughed nervously at them.

Others stopped laughing altogether.

Because little by little—

the school was changing.

I tried a softer approach for my regular café visit. Instead of full school uniform, I went with a smart blue shirt, knitted tie, short khaki shorts, knee-length navy socks, and shiny black shoes. It felt like a safe middle ground - boyish enough to satisfy that thrill, but not so obvious that the regulars would stare... or so I thought.

I went to the park first to take a couple of photos. One dog walker there who had seen me before saw me trying to discreetly pose for a timer photo and said " that's a really nice outfit", which made me blush!

The café owner took one look at me and smiled. “Those shorts and socks are great! You look very schoolboy-like today.” My face instantly went red. My clever “not too obvious” plan had completely backfired in the best possible way. There I was, sitting among people who know me, dressed like a proper, neat schoolboy should.

It was equal parts embarrassing and exciting. Maybe I don’t need the full uniform every time. There’s something addictive about these smart, slightly childish outfits that still let me feel exposed and boyish in everyday social settings.

Nonetheless, this new Sunday routine has become quite peaceful for me. Sir felt that even though I was cleaning around the house all day on Sundays, I still needed a way to practice my obedience in public as well as to be more at peace with his commands.

This seems to be his new solution. He has me put on my usual uniform of a suit, but remove my blazer. He says it makes me look like a little Mormon missionary. Then, he drives me to a new church for a Sunday service, typically whatever is the longest. However, he leaves my phone at home, blind folds me for the drive and then hands me a new random book as I step out of the car and says he will pick me up when he gets to it. I then attend the service and wait outside for him as I read my book. The churches are often rather conservative and unsettling for a fag to listen to (especially while locked); however, it does help to kill the time.

Last week, Sir gave me Ulysses by James Joyce to read. It was over 700 pages and I had never felt dumber in my life as I struggled to decipher its meaning. Perhaps that’s part of Sir’s re-education program for me. Nonetheless, I was left from 9am until 3pm, so I’m thankful I had something long to muddle through.

My first ever suited sex story. I have been working on many suited stories for months now and this is the first one to finish. I hope you enjoy.

He was practically nothing. He lived on the streets for the past three months. Every night he spent chittering in the cold and was unable to care for himself due to his financial problems. His parents had died in a car crash and his grandparents were both deceased. His uncles and aunts lived too far away from him. So every night since then, the streets had been his home.

Then one night, he found him.

On the street one night, Dustin was wearing a burgundy hoodie, ripped jeans, white socks, and black Nike shoes. The young adult was on the verge of freezing, sitting on a corner, outside a 7/11 store for the night. Not that this was new to him.

He sat there, hoping to warm himself but he could not. Shivers on shivers, Dustin couldn’t even fall asleep for the night. With his hoodie covering his dirty blonde hair, he struggled to keep his brown eyes shut. He waited for a sign or perhaps he would have drifted off into sleep like usual.

Dustin, on the verge of dozing off, then saw a black minivan. The van stopped before him and a cloaked individual exited the car. The individual approached Dustin, who was wondering what they would want with him. Immediately, he was given an offer.

An offer of a lifetime.

The cloaked individual said the following, “You look too handsome to be out here. Why don’t you come with me and I can make you into a successful person.”

Dustin had to think for a while. The chance seemed like he could get out of this horrid lifestyle and back on his feet for the time being. But part of him made him hesitant on that offer, sounding too good to be true.

And then he made his choice.

He accepted.

The cloaked person helped Dustin to his feet and let him enter the van. On the ride to wherever, Dustin didn’t speak a word.

Soon the homeless male came across the spectacle: a three story mansion. Dustin nearly dropped his jaw at the scene as the gates opened and the van drove inside. By the time the gates shut, Dustin was at the door.

The cloaked figure escorted Dustin out, nice and slow before the door was opened by an impeccable butler. The cloaked figure revealed himself as a man around his early-forties. He has brown hair and faint traces of a mustache while his eyes are amber.

“Where are my manners?” he joked before introducing himself, “My name is Mr. Avington.”

“I am Dustin.” The homeless teenager greeted.

“Well, Dustin,” Mr. Avington said, “I hope you can make yourself at home.”

Dustin nodded before asking, “So, where can I sleep?”

“There is a bedroom on the second floor. Just go up the stairs, fourth door on the left. Use the shower to your content. And help yourself to the closet.”

Dustin thanked Mr. Avington for his hospitality and headed up the stairs, following the directions. Once the former homeless man left, Mr. Avington couldn’t help but muse to himself.

“A polite boy. And a cute one at that. Such a rare combination. *Sigh* It almost doesn’t make me have to sell him…” 

But now, Mr. Avington decided to retire for the night.

Dustin, for the first time in a long time, felt himself in heaven. The bathroom was luxurious. So shiny and spotless to Dustin. He discarded his clothes and got into the shower. Feeling the hot running water on his skin, shampoo for his hair, and toiletries to freshen himself, Dustin hoped he could stay here indefinitely to enjoy this.

After the refreshing shower, Dustin came out of the bathroom and walked into the bedroom, which was connected to the bathroom.

It was an enormous bedroom with a walk-in closet. The dresser was carved from mahogany wood from what he could deduce and the bed looked as if it could fit nine other people. The comforter was decorated with regal golden patterns and the mattress was soft. Like deluxe-level softness.

If he didn’t know any better, Dustin would have presumed this was prep in advance for a guest. But perhaps, Mr. Avington always had this place tidy for anyone coming over. Even a complete stranger.

But he was much too happy for indoor plumbing, a shower, and a comfortable bedroom to care about how or why.

Dustin dressed himself in some sleepwear he was provided with: satin silk black short sleeve shirt and shorts. And that night, Dustin had the best sleep for months.

When morning came around, Dustin didn’t want to get up. He wanted to stay in bed, perhaps lay there for the rest of the day. He didn’t exactly have a job despite needing one. He had been lucky that the 7/11 employees were nice enough to provide him free food.

Unfortunately, slurpees start to lose their touch after two weeks.

Knocks on the door managed to stir the ‘guest’ who answered, “Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Avington.”

“You can come in.” Dustin answered.

The door opened to reveal the homeowner. For the morning, Mr. Avington had dressed formally. He had on a light blue dress shirt that was covered by his solid maroon sweater vest. A clear well-done Windsor knot of a black tie was around the collar. Gray trousers draped his bottom half and with a small break, you could the black dress socks in the brown tassel loafers.

Dustin stared for a few seconds, thinking how the older gentleman looked so… handsome before working up the courage to say something, “So… Um… you look nice this morning.”

Mr. Avington chuckled to himself. ‘So young and so flustered.’ He mused to himself before answering verbal. “Yes, my entire wardrobe is dedicated to formal fashion. I never leave my mansion without looking my best.”

Dustin felt compelled to ask another question. “But do you ever get… looks? Like even in the smallest instances?”

The older gentleman nodded. “Yes. No one really questions it, though. They presume I just come from a job where professional attire or the change of season. I also happen to get compliments when I do.”

Dustin understood what he meant. He could see that happening to Mr. Avington.

The older gentleman clapped his hands together. “Well, I do not wish to keep from breakfast. Care to join?”

Dustin happily nodded, feeling his stomach slightly growl at the moment. He went to get out of bed and Mr. Avington opened the walk-in closet. 

“Mr. Avington?” Dustin questioned and walked over to the homeowner.

“It’s nothing, dear boy.” The dapper man dismissed, “Just… picking out your clothing for the day.”

“Couldn’t I… do that myself?” Dustin phrased. He was a bit curious why Mr. Avington was picking out his clothing.

“Well, to be fair, it’s really all formalwear. Do you know the basics?”

“By basics, you are referring to…”

“Well, shirts, matching colors, belts, ties, socks, and shoes.”

Dustin was silent before reluctantly admitting. “Not really.”

Mr. Avington gave a faint nod and pulled out his chosen clothes. “It is alright, dear boy. I told you I can make you a successful person. First things first, you have to dress the part.”

Mr. Avington pulled out the following: a clean pristine white dress shirt, tan khakis, a pair of white briefs, a pair of blue argyle dress socks, an ebony black belt, and a pair of black oxfords.

Dustin looked at his chosen clothes before looking at Mr. Avington. The dapper gentleman gestured for him to put the outfit on which made the dirty blonde ask the next question.

“You want me to change in front of you?”

“Well, I have to see how it looks on you. Make sure it fits properly.”

Dustin felt oddly concerned but still compelled to be nice. After all, Mr. Avington was kind enough to let him stay the night.

The homeless boy started to undress, even to the point he was nude. Dustin showed his manhood, something that Mr. Avington secretly nodded at.

Dustin started off with his new briefs, which were snug around his manhood. With a brief flap, the former homeless boy enjoyed the clean underwear on his hips. 

Next were the socks, the blue argyle dress socks reaching his thighs. Buttoning up, the white dress shirt fit him just as well before the tan khakis slid up to his waist. Tucking in the shirt with the pants, he wrapped the ebony belt around himself and it was the perfect length. Lastly were the oxfords, which fit like everything else.

After the outfit was on, Mr. Avington presented a black-white striped tie.

Dustin took a moment to admire it before admitting, “I’m afraid I don’t know how to tie.”

Unfazed, Mr. Avington simply responded with, “Then I shall tie it. Just this once though.” The older gentleman successfully tied Dustin’s with a sophisticated Windsor knot. “Take a look at yourself.”

Dustin found himself in a full-length mirror. The clothes and accessories on him… it made him… irresistible. Handsome. Dapper. So many synonyms to describe himself.

Mr. Avington had a mental smile at the sight of Dustin admiring his outfit. He cleared his throat which snapped Dustin out of his formal admiration. “I believe breakfast is afoot?”

Dustin nodded and the two fancy men walked to the dining room.

Breakfast was divine to Dustin, eating as much as he could since he didn’t have much to eat for the past three months. He tried to portray proper etiquette but his hunger was rather untamed for the time being.

Mr. Avington watched his guest, shaking his head playfully at the sight. He couldn’t blame the boy. After all, the streets are not always kind.

It was then the older gentleman spoke, “You know, I meant what I said before. About being successful.”

Dustin halted the fork inches from his mouth, “How so?”

“Well, in order to be successful, you have to look successful.”

Dustin mauled that ideal over. It made sense. His dad always told him, dress for the part you want.

Dustin really had nothing better to do. He had taken a brief break from college, dealing with his parents’ passing, and with his family far away at the moment, perhaps Mr. Avington could impart some sartorial tips. Plus the older gentleman did say he could make him successful.

“So, what do you said to my proposal?” Mr. Avington said as he sipped some mimosa.

After a few minutes of contemplating, Dustin came to a decision, “I would like that.”

Mr. Avington nodded, “Excellent. From now on, you will refer to me as ‘Sir.’”

“Really?”

“Really, what?”

Dustin was taken aback by the emphasis and decided to just roll with it for now. “I apologize. I understand… Sir.”

“That’s good, boy.” Mr. Avington said while internally thinking.

‘And the programming has begun.’

The first week involved learning the basics of formal attire. It started with Dustin being nude in front of Mr. Avington. It took a few days to the point where Dustin felt comfortable enough to strip in front of Mr. Avington.

During this time, Mr. Avington discussed how suits, tuxedos, and other formal attire should be worn. The older gentleman explained how dress shirts, trousers, socks, and shoes should also be worn and matched to make the proper stylish appearance.

The second week involved learning how to tie ties. Dustin fumbled about at first but soon picked up how to tie efficiently, something that Mr. Avington adored.

The third week was about etiquette. Dustin had taken a few courses during his time in college, however he didn’t pay too much attention. With Mr. Avington though, Dustin shortly learned to act the part while looking the part.

During the next four months, Dustin was properly educated in the art of sartorial. Mr. Avington also groomed him, using hair and facial products to make him more extravagant, and taught him some formal activities such as waltzing or playing the piano. Dustin had come to terms about the formal lifestyle, embracing it fully. He no longer felt awkward about wearing them everyday, rather…

It felt right for him. Like a role he should have been apart of for so long.

At end of the fourth month, Dustin and Mr. Avington were sitting at the dining table.

Dustin was dressed in a ravishing charcoal 3-piece suit. His double breasted dark jacket and waistcoat obscured the gray patterned tie and white dress shirt. His charcoal slacks with a black belt reached down to the point there was a break to see his black dress socks in his black oxfords. In his pocket, he had a white satin pocket square.

Mr. Avington, on the other hand, had a typical 2 piece navy suit. With his single breasted navy jacket, his white dress shirt and burgundy tie brought his outfit together. The navy slacks were fitted with a brown belt to match his brown wingtips, keeping his tan dress socks hidden. With a golden trimmed pocket square, Mr. Avington -to no surprise- was put together. Politely wiping his mouth, his amber eyes landed on Dustin.

The older gentleman watched as his mentee precisely cut his steak in half before continuing to cut them into smaller pieces. What Dustin didn’t know was the inner turmoil Mr. Avington was dealing with.

From the moment he laid on eyes on him on the street, Mr. Avington found Dustin irresistible. He knew his colleagues would definitely have the time of their life with Dustin, but he wanted him to himself. He had never come across a boy he wanted to keep and it pained him to see him go.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Mr. Avington decided to address his boy, “Boy, I have some news.”

Dustin stopped his cutting and wiped his hands digiantly on his napkins before politely asking, “What is it, Sir?”

Mr. Avington shook his delusions out of his head, “There is a black tie event next week. My colleagues and I are hosting and I would like you to join us.”

Dustin nodded his head, “Of course, Sir. I would enjoy such an event, Sir.”

Mr. Avington nodded before drinking some red wine and Dustin went back to eating. Seeing his protege devour the steak the way he taught him, Avington’s heart began to sway.

Between keeping him… or selling him.

One week later, the ‘black tie event’ was among them.

Dustin exited the shower, freshening himself up for the event. Cleaning himself with his towel, he ruffled his hair slightly before leaving the bathroom.

Having ironed his tuxedo shirt and setting out the specific clothes ahead of time, Dustin started the correct way with a pair of white briefs before his sheer socks.

Stretching them up to his calf, Dustin’s next item was his tuxedo shirt. He carefully buttoned up the onyx studs, remembering what his ‘Sir’ had informed him. After that, he placed his tuxedo slacks on, he could tell since they had a satin line along them. Next, Dustin decided to wear a pair of braces to help keep the slacks up and a black cummerbund. Then, he tied his own black bow tie -another lesson- and made sure it was snug around his neck. Afterwards, Dustin placed his sheer sock covered into his polished pair of black opera pumps. After his footwear, the brunette placed onyx cufflinks into his french cuffs. And finally, he applied the finishing touch: his jet-black tuxedo jacket. Dustin folded a red pocket square for some detail.

After putting on his tuxedo jacket, Dustin looked at the full length mirror and was reminded of his ‘training.’ Feeling the smooth fabric of the jacket on his body made him aroused, a feeling he never fully discussed with Mr. Avington as he didn’t want to make him feel awkward. A small tent occurred at a lustful thought but he shook his head to be rid of it. His mindset returned to the task at hand as he greased and combed his hair, allowing his hair to shine and looked presentable. After that, Dustin left his room and went downstairs, his shoes making clicks against the hardwood.

As Dustin went down the stairs, his brown eyes landed on Mr. Avington…

Who took his breath away.

Avington, despite every single day these past 4 months, was simply breathtaking. His attire was pure-white dinner jacket. His satin black lapels and ebony black bow tie added contrast between the dinner jacket. Dustin made out a black pocket square and a black waistcoat on his undefiled tuxedo shirt with onyx studs. Silver cufflinks were on his French cuffs much like Dustin’s. His slacks were the same shade of his bow tie and down to the break, he had the same sheers and shiny black patent leather dress shoes.

Dustin’s lustful thought returned and his bulge erected itself before the mentee tried to calm himself. He doubt Mr. Avington indulges in such desires but resumed his descent and approached

Mr. Avington was idly checking his watch when Dustin cleared his throat. The older gentleman looked flabbergasted before patting his mentee on the shoulder. “You look exquisite, boy.”

Dustin’s cheeks became red before he managed to response, “T-Thank you, Sir. I own it all to you. You and your guidance have been really helpful for me, Sir.”

It was Mr. Avington’s turn to blush at the praise. He really did help Dustin become who he is now and it pained him to take to this event.

Knowing it is a possibility to lose him forever.

Steeling up his nerves and pushing his thoughts deep into his subconscious, Mr. Avington gestured to their ride outside. “Are you ready, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The two tuxedo dressed gentlemen left for the ‘black tie’ event.

They took a limo to their location, Mr. Avington flinching every single second of the ride as they arrived. The location was a small warehouse with a backroom and Dustin ignored the sight, thinking that

The driver came to a halt which allowed Mr. Avington to say, “This is where you get out.”

Dustin was confused by what he meant. “Pardon, Sir?”

“Do not worry about me, boy.” Mr. Avington waved off, keeping the despair out of his voice. “I shall join you shortly. I plan to meet up with some of my colleagues first.”

Dustin couldn’t help to have a suspicious feeling that Mr. Avington was hiding something. But he shrugged it off for a time being and exited the limo. Dustin straightened his jacket, buttoning it before walking in. Mr. Avington watched his boy leave and wiped a single tear from his eye with his pocket square.

Entering a side door, Dustin walked into a dark room, wondering where the event was.

“Hello?” He called in the darkness. He began to feel like Mr. Avington and his colleagues were playing a prank on him, which slightly infuriated the mentee. He prepared to leave when he felt someone grab him.

“Let me go-” He didn’t finish his sentence as he was chloroformed and slipped into unconsciousness.

“Wake up.”

Dustin’s brown eyes groggily managed to regain their sight and saw a man in front of him. He was dressed in a black suit with a white dress shirt and black half-windsor knot tie. On the wrist was a brown leather watch. The man’s slacks were black as well and had a belt on. His dress socks were gold-toes and he had on black wingtips.

Dustin began shaking his head and looked side-to-side. His eyes saw other men -around his age from mid twenties to early thirties it looked like- dressed in tuxedos as well. He counted up to 23, and counting him was 24.

“What’s going on?” Dustin questioned and was met with a hard slap to his cheek. He went to rub it but found he was wrist were bounded.

“It’s not your turn yet.” The man spat and walked off, no doubt to wake another one unconscious man.

Dustin’s heart began to beat fast as he was abducted. His mind began to worry at an alarming rate and tried to calm the nerves. He was wondering how and why this was happening.

“Alright, listen up!” The man in the black suit barked and those awake turned to attention. “You have all been trained to behave like good subs. Is that correct?”

‘A sub?’ Dustin thought but nodded his head to blend in with the crowd.

The man had a predatory smile, “Good boys. It seems your Sirs have taught you well. The auction begins in 30 minutes. Don’t try to know one another until then. I doubt you’ll see each other again.”

Dustin’s heart stopped. Was… was this what Mr. Avington meant by make him successfully? It was all a ploy. A ploy that Dustin believed.

He was no longer scared of his current predicament.

He was angry.

Angry about how Mr. Avington lied to him. A man he had come to admire these past four months. How Mr. Avington manipulated him into dressing up like some object and he would be forced to be sold. How Mr. Avington used him to make money.

Dustin balled his fist in anger as he looked down and saw a sticker marked #14 on his lapel. Dustin couldn’t believe what was about to happen to him.

He was about to be auctioned off.

Once it was his turn, Dustin compiled without any resistance. He was too angry to retaliate and he had seen the kind of reaction it would entice.

But his mind had figured out a plan. Once or if he was sold, Dustin would be escorted to his buyer’s vehicle. Which he planned to escape in.

Despite wearing opera pumps, Dustin could potentially outrun his captors. But that left the question about where he would go. He simply didn’t care. He was sure that there wasn’t a tracker or chip in his body but if there was, he would go down swinging. That’s a promise he made sure of.

Once he got to the stage, the man in the black suit from before gestured for him to come up on stage. Dustin looked into the crowd, seeing other men in tuxedos but their faces were obscured by masks. Dustin couldn’t make out any facial features but 

“Here we have Boy #14. A handsome fellow who happens to be quite the dresser, like everyone one from before. With that rich tux on, he’s definitely going to satisfy you. Hopefully, you have tons of suits and ties for this boy.” The man informed the crowd. “We will be starting the bid at 100.”

Instantly a marker went up.

“Alright! 100! Do I hear 200?”

Another marker went up.

Dustin inwardly gagged as he felt like a bachelor being auctioned off. Except it wasn’t for charity, it was for personal pleasure or servitude.

The bid kept getting higher and higher until it reached 50,000. Dustin, for one, was surprised that the men here made that much.

“Alright, fifty thousand! Do I hear sixty thousand?” No one made an attempt to bid further. “Going once. Going twice. Sold! To the man in the white tuxedo with the owl mask on.”

Dustin gulped and was escorted away. He hoped his escape plan would be enough.

Making his way to a limo, Dustin looked both ways, deciding which way he could go. The exit was on his left with a gate, so he couldn’t escape that way and the other way was an open area, making it easy to spot him if he fled. With a heavy heart, Dustin submitted to the life of becoming a sub.

He was still angry with Mr. Avington after everything he taught him. His breathtaking appearance was something he never wanted to see again, after the scam he pulled. Entering the limo, Dustin sat on the velvet backseat as his new Master eyed him through his mask.

Once the limo left and the gates closed, the owl masked man revealed himself…

To be Mr. Avington.

“Hello again.” The older gentleman said with relief in his tone.

Dustin, on the other hand, was not too thrilled.

“You!” With fury, Dustin lunged but Mr. Avington held his arms, preventing him from attacking.

“That’s no way to treat me, boy.” Mr. Avington remarked.

“Well, after what happened to me, if feels pretty appropriate!” Dustin yelled.

Mr. Avington let out a sigh, “I… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t solve this, Sir.” Dustin said that last part with venom as he settled down and faced away from his former mentor.

“I didn’t mean for any of this.” Mr. Avington admitted.

“Really?” There was sarcasm in the younger gentleman’s tone. “What were you expecting? A better boy? Or did you just take pity on me, thinking I need more training?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Mr. Avington clarified. “It’s.. it’s…”

“It’s what?” Dustin said, facing the window and looking at the moon. He didn’t even want to look at the reflection of the ‘desperate’ older man.

“I… fell for you.”

Dustin didn’t show it but that confession made his heart stop. It resumed before Dustin decided to let him continue. “When?”

“When I found and invited you.” Mr. Avington revealed. “I saw you on the street and I wanted to… educate you.”

“Oh trust me, I’m well-educated now. What’s more to teach me? How to use ties as bondage material?”

“It’s not like that. You… were so beautiful. It pained me to take you to this event. In my industry, Sirs hardly fall for any boys they take in. Once they are sold, they are hardly seen again unless one invites colleagues over. They bring their subs to ‘pleasure’ themselves or their friends.”

Dustin took in everything and he finally decided to face his ‘Sir.’ “So, I was different then.”

“Yes, Dustin.” Mr. Avington said. The brunette was surprised to hear Mr. Avington call him by his real name and not boy.

“Dustin… If there is one thing I don’t regret in this life, it is teaching you to be a dapper boy. You… are different from any boy I have ever trained. I loved you the moment you took my hand. These past four months were nothing but heaven to me. Watching you suit up, seeing you in formal attire, tying your tie, everything in-between was… meaningful.”

Mr. Avington got closer to Dustin, who was looking down and processing everything he had heard. As much as he hated to admit, Dustin had enjoyed Mr. Avington’s company as well, even if it was just to sell him. But the fact, he purchased him meant something.

He could have been auctioned off to some brutal master who probably would be strict or punish him nonstop. Dustin rubbed his arm, looking uncomfortably.

Mr. Avington placed a hand on Dustin’s cheek and pulled forward, kissing the brunette on the lips. Dustin’s mouth slowly melted into it, enjoying it. Both began to kiss each other in the back as the limo headed to Mr. Avington’s manor.

Dustin’s lustful feeling returned and Mr. Avington noticed the bulge in his boy’s slacks.

“Seems you have quite the activity in there, boy.” Mr. Avington addressed.

“S-sorry about that Sir,” Dustin apologized as he blushed.

“No, it is alright.” Mr. Avington said as he revealed his bulge himself. He even unzipped his slacks and revealed the throbbing long cock.

“S-Sir,” Dustin stuttered.

“It’s alright, boy.” Mr. Avington said, “You may indulge in it. After all, I did purchase you.”

For some reason, Dustin couldn’t help himself and leaned down towards the cock. He began stroking it with his hand and continuing to kiss his lovely Sir. His own tent was beginning to erect itself which made Dustin scramble to free it. Once he did, the brunette stroked his own with Mr. Avington’s help.

“I never said to this you before but you have quite the cock,” Mr. Avington whispered and embraced his sub. Dustin said nothing for the next few minutes, just jerking himself off in front of his wonderful new Sir.

With soundproof glass, the limousine driver didn’t hear the moans that Dustin let out as the sub’s stroking increased in speed. Mr. Avington was admiring it before Dustin led his head and his lips to wrap around the throbbing penis. 

Slowly licking it, Dustin felt so enticed by it. A desire he was thinking about hours ago was coming true.

“How does it taste, boy?” Mr. Avington asked. He was met with a nod as Dustin took a short break before returning to his desires.

Every moment Dustin spent licking and ‘satisfying’ his Sir was heaven. He briefly stopped as Mr. Avington raised his sub’s head and they engaged in kissing once more, this time the taste of precum was prominent.

Dustin’s mouth, dripping in pre-cum, tasted like heaven for the dom, so he gently lowered Dustin’s head to his exposed cock and set him suck it again. Dustin dropped to his knees with Mr. Avington’s legs manspreading. Mr. Avington let out pleasurable moans as Dustin serviced him.

Sucking the older man’s cock, Dustin closed his eyes, picturing doing the same action for the rest of his days. This may not have been his training but he was too engrossed by it to stop. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to forgive his Sir but he was far too busy enjoying himself as he sucked his Sir off.

Mr. Avington rocked Dustin’s head, playing with his brown hair, as the thought of his wonderful dressed boy continued to erect and spew drizzles of pre-cum. Leaning his head back, Mr. Avington moaned happily, feeling the rush almost ending.

Dustin released his grip on his Sir’s as the hot white semen spurted out. The cum splattered against his face and Dustin licked some of it off before more ejaculation was ejected, some getting on his lapels, jacket, bow tie, and tuxedo shirt. Personally, Dustin enjoyed each blast against his attire, not really wanting to clean it.

“Sorry about that boy,” Mr. Avington apologized but Dustin licked them clean.

“It is alright, Sir. That was quite delicious.” Dustin replied, the taste of fresh semen trickling inside his mouth. He felt his penis become harder and harder while the rush grew stronger and stronger. He felt himself about to rush and was attempting not to get it over.

“Don’t be afraid boy,” Mr. Avington told him as he cupped Dustin’s chin and whispered. “You want to cum, boy?”

Dustin gulped, “I do, Sir.”

“You want to be my boy?”

Another I do escaped the brunette’s lips, his penis feeling the semen churn within.

“You want to dress like this everyday, boy?”

“Yes, Sir!” Dustin exclaimed, the adrenaline from his masturbation getting to him.

Mr. Avington’s lips curled to a satisfied boy. “You promise to obey me, boy?”

“I do, Sir!”

“Then release.”

And with pure relief, Dustin ejaculated. His semen spurted against the floor and the seat. Some even dripped onto his hand and others he accidentally squirted onto his slacks or opera pumps. Even Mr. Avington’s shiny black patent leather dress shoes had faint streaks of cum on them.

“Now I am sorry, Sir.” Dustin said after catching his breath.

“It is alright, boy.” Mr. Avington responded and pulled the slightly cum-stained black bow tie of Dustin to engage in another kiss.

Dustin melted into the lips for a fourth time and was undeniably in love with his Sir. Once they broke apart, Mr. Avington realized they were back at the manor. “Time sure does fly, my boy.” He said before the driver opened the door.

Mr. Avington straightened his jacket somewhat and exited with Dustin hand-in-hand. The older gentleman had been proud of his teachings with Dustin and now they he was his…