The black car arrived at exactly 8 PM, as promised.
Ethan had been watching from his apartment window for the past twenty minutes, his stomach a knot of anticipation and nerves. When the sleek vehicle pulled up to the curb, he grabbed his sweater, the nicest one he owned, and headed downstairs before he could second-guess himself.
The driver who emerged was younger than Ethan expected. Maybe mid-twenties, with sharp cheekbones and an immaculate black suit that fit him like it had been tailored to his exact measurements. A crisp white shirt. A black bowtie, perfectly symmetrical. White gloves. The young man's expression was serene, almost blank, but his movements were fluid and practiced as he opened the rear door.
"Good evening, sir," the driver said, his voice soft and measured. "Master is expecting you."
Ethan slid into the leather interior, and the door closed with a heavy, final sound. As they pulled away from the curb, he caught the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror, dark, distant, but with something underneath. Contentment, maybe. Or emptiness. It was hard to tell.
The drive took them out of the city, through winding roads lined with old-growth trees. Ethan tried to make conversation once or twice, but the driver only offered polite, minimal responses. Eventually, Ethan fell silent, watching the landscape darken as they traveled deeper into the countryside.
When the mansion finally appeared through the trees, Ethan's breath caught. It was enormous with tall windows glowing warm against the night. The car swept up a circular drive and stopped before the grand entrance.
The driver opened his door. "Master will see you in the dining room. Please, follow me."
Inside, the mansion was even more impressive. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, oil paintings in gilded frames. But what struck Ethan most were the other young men. He saw at least five of them, but he figured there were more moving through the halls with quiet efficiency. All wore identical uniforms: black suits, white shirts, black bowties and white gloves. All moved with the same serene, almost mechanical grace.
One of them, a blonde with delicate features, approached with a silver tray bearing a glass of wine.
"For you, sir," he said, his voice gentle and distant. His eyes met Ethan's for just a moment, and Ethan saw it again that strange combination of blankness and bliss.
"Thank you," Ethan managed, taking the glass. His fingers brushed the server's gloved hand, and he felt a small shiver run through him.
The driver or butler, Ethan supposed, led him through a set of double doors into a dining room that took his breath away. A long table set for two, covered in white linen and gleaming silverware. Candles everywhere, their light dancing across the walls. And at the far end of the table, rising from his chair with fluid confidence, was who he would come to know as Master.
He was older than Ethan, but carried himself with the vitality of someone much younger. Dark hair touched with silver at the temples. A tailored three-piece suit in charcoal gray with a dark green tie affixed with large gold collar pin. But it was his eyes that captured Ethan immediately: dark, penetrating, impossibly deep. When Master smiled, Ethan felt something in his chest tighten.
"Ethan," Master said, his voice rich and warm. "I'm so pleased you accepted my invitation. Please, sit."
Ethan found himself moving to the chair without consciously deciding to. One of the suited boys, this one with dark curls and full lips, pulled out the chair for him, the boy then pushed it in with practiced precision.
"You have questions," Master said, settling back into his own seat. "That's natural. But I find that words often complicate what should be simple. Tonight, I'd like you to simply... experience tonight. Can you do that for me?"
There was something in the way he said it, a subtle command wrapped in velvet, that made Ethan nod before he could think.
The words sent a jolt through Ethan's body, unexpected and electric.
Dinner began. Course after course appeared, each more exquisite than the last, delivered by the silent, suited boys who moved like shadows. Master spoke throughout about art, about philosophy, about desire and surrender and the masks people wear. His voice was hypnotic, each word seeming to sink into Ethan's mind and settle there, warm and heavy.
Ethan found himself leaning forward, hanging on every syllable. The wine helped, perhaps, but it was more than that. Master's presence filled the room, filled Ethan's awareness, until nothing else seemed to matter. The suited boys faded into the background, their service seamless and invisible. Time became elastic, stretching and compressing.
"You're searching for something," Master said at one point, his eyes locked on Ethan's. "Aren't you? Something you can't quite name. A place where you don't have to think so hard. Where you don't have to carry the weight of all those decisions, all that responsibility."
Ethan's throat was tight. "I... yes. Maybe."
"There's no shame in it." Master's smile was understanding, almost paternal. "The world tells us we must always be in control, always strong, always certain. But that's exhausting, isn't it? Sometimes, the greatest strength is in surrender. In letting go. In trusting someone else to carry that burden for you."
"Yes," Ethan whispered, and realized he meant it with his whole being.
Master stood, moving around the table with predatory grace. He stopped behind Ethan's chair, and Ethan felt strong hands on his shoulders, warm even through his jacket.
"Would you like that, Ethan? To let go? To surrender?"
Ethan's heart was pounding. His mouth was dry. "Yes, Master."
He hadn't meant to say the title. It just... emerged. Natural. Right.
"Good boy," Master said again, and this time the words seemed to pour through Ethan like honey, sweet and thick and overwhelming. "Stand up. Come with me."
Ethan stood on shaking legs. Master took his hand, his grip firm and commanding, and led him to a sitting area adjacent to the dining room. A leather sofa, more candles, the suited boys arranging themselves in the shadows like a silent chorus.
Master sat, spreading his legs slightly, and looked up at Ethan with those impossibly deep eyes.
The command was soft but absolute. Ethan's knees buckled, and he found himself sinking down, down, until he was kneeling between Master's legs, looking up at him. The position felt natural. Right. Like coming home.
"Look at me," Master said, and Ethan couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. "That's it. Just look. Let everything else fall away. There's only my voice. Only my eyes. Only this moment."
Ethan felt himself falling into those eyes, into that voice. His thoughts began to scatter, to dissolve like sugar in water. Master's hand came to rest on his head, fingers threading through his hair, and Ethan heard himself make a small, needy sound.
"You want to please me," Master said. Not a question. A statement of fact. "You want to serve. You want to surrender everything, your will, your thoughts, your self, and become what I need you to be."
"Yes," Ethan breathed. "Yes, Master."
Master's other hand moved to his belt, and Ethan watched, transfixed, as Master freed himself. Ethan's mouth watered. His mind was a haze of need and submission, all his usual hesitations burned away by the intensity of Master's presence.
When Master guided him forward, Ethan opened his mouth eagerly, desperately. The taste of Master flooded his senses, salt and musk and something else, something that seemed to sink into him at a cellular level. He worked with increasing fervor, losing himself in the act of service, in the pleasure of pleasing.
Master's hand tightened in his hair. "That's it. Good boy. Such a good, obedient boy. You're going to swallow for me, aren't you? You're going to take everything I give you, and it's going to change you. It's going to remake you. You want that, don't you?"
Ethan moaned around Master's length, the vibration making Master groan. Yes. Yes, he wanted it. Wanted to be changed, remade, transformed into something better, something simpler, something that existed only to serve and obey and please.
When Master finally came, the taste exploded across Ethan's tongue, thick and hot and overwhelming. Ethan swallowed convulsively, taking it all, and felt something fundamental shift inside him. The world seemed to tilt, to blur at the edges. His eyes rolled back. His mind went white, then blank, then filled with a golden haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He was dimly aware of Master's voice, still speaking, but the words seemed to bypass his conscious mind and sink directly into his subconscious.
"Let go. Let it take you. Let my seed sink in. Let it rewrite you. You don't need to think anymore. You don't need to resist. Just surrender. Just obey. Just serve."
Ethan felt his sense of self beginning to dissolve, to fragment. But instead of terror, he felt only relief. Only pleasure. Only a deep, profound rightness.
Hands were on him now, the suited boys, emerging from the shadows. They were speaking, their voices soft and rhythmic, layering over Master's deeper tones.
"It's okay. Just let his seed sink in."
"Be like us. Obedient. Happy. Mindless. Suited."
"Join Master and wear his uniform."
"Let go. Let go. Let go."
Ethan felt his sweater being removed, then his shirt. Cool air on his skin, then the warmth of new fabric. A crisp white shirt, being buttoned with careful precision. A black jacket, settling on his shoulders like a mantle of purpose. Hands at his waist, removing his belt, his pants. Something cold and metal, a cage, being locked into place. The sensation should have alarmed him, but instead it felt like security. Like belonging.
"Good boy," the voices chorused. "Such a good boy. Master's boy now."
The bowtie was last. Ethan felt it being wrapped around his neck, tied with expert fingers. As the knot was tightened, something clicked into place in his mind. The last fragments of resistance, of independent thought, simply... evaporated. In their place was a warm, golden blankness. A sense of complete peace. Complete purpose.
He was Master's now. Master's boy. Master's servant. Master's property.
When the transformation was complete, Ethan stood, no, the boy who had been Ethan stood and looked at himself in the mirror one of the others held up. He saw a young man in a perfect black suit, white shirt, black bowtie. His expression was serene, blank, blissful. His eyes were distant but content.
He smiled. It felt natural. Easy.
Master approached, cupping his face with one hand. "Beautiful. You're perfect now. And you know what you need to do, don't you?"
The boy nodded. Yes. He knew. He needed to share this gift. This perfection. This bliss.
"Go," Master said. "Bring me more boys. Bring me your friends. Anyone who might benefit from my... guidance."
"Yes, Master," the boy said, his voice soft and dreamy.
Three weeks later, the boy who had been Ethan sat in a coffee shop, his suit immaculate, his bowtie perfectly tied. Across from him sat Marcus, a friend from college, looking curious and slightly confused.
"So this dinner thing," Marcus said. "What's it about exactly?"
The boy smiled that same serene, blank smile. "It's an experience. Something unique. Master is very selective about his guests, but I think you'd be perfect."
"The host. He's... remarkable. You'll see." The boy reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph. "This is from my dinner."
Marcus took the photo, studying it. Two men at an elegant table, suited boys in bowties serving them. It looked expensive. Exclusive. Intriguing.
"It looks fancy," Marcus said.
"It is. But it's more than that. It's transformative." The boy's smile widened slightly. "Trust me. You'll never be the same."
Marcus hesitated, then shrugged. "Sure. Why not? When?"
"I'll arrange it. Master will send a car." The boy stood, straightening his bowtie with unconscious precision. "You won't regret it, Marcus. I promise."
As he walked away, the boy felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Master would be pleased. And soon, Marcus would join them, another boy in a bowtie, blank and happy and obedient for Master.
The cycle would continue. As it always will...
(I could make more of these it was just my first attempt at writing something so lmk if you like it, and send pics of preppy guys for me to use if you would like another)
