The Houseboy

I have had several houseboys in my time, ever since my mother showed me the benefits of having one around. They are easy to train and an essential possession for any self-respecting dominant lady.
My current houseboy is a very docile creature, aged twenty-eight,
Called Timothy, though I rarely call him by his name; ‘boy’ is the term I
Generally use.
He scrubs floors, washes windows, cleans toilets, washes clothes, iron clothes, places clothes neatly back in draws. Keeps bathrooms and kitchens spotless! Empties bins, dusts, vacuums, and makes beds. Also cooks meals and serves meals in a professional manner. Polishes, repairs, paints, and generally undertakes all the jobs I feel are beneath my station.

Houseboys can be live-in or domiciled near to you. Dependent on how much work your house and grounds generate. Personally it is not convenient for me right now to house my servant and the work I require him to perform is accomplished easily in the evenings and weekends I send for him.
Discipline is an essential part of any houseboy’s training, the old adage, “spare the rod, spoil the child” is never truer than when applied to the training of a domestic servant. The cane is the instrument I highly recommend, to be given in doses of no less than a dozen for even the smallest infraction of your rules or wishes.
A houseboy needs to realize from the very beginning that he is dealing with a woman that has zero tolerance for laziness or disrespect of any kind, and that demands dedication, devotion and maximum effort at all times.
Also make sure they understand fully their inferior social status. Avoid thanking them for any actions they perform and be hypercritical of all their efforts to please. A uniform is also a very good way to indicate the houseboy’s lowly status. I always insist mine are dressed in pristine white T-shirt, tight white shorts and white socks and plimsolls.

I always keep my houseboys in permanent chastity, with the use of a simple piercing and a chastity tube. It is simply not appropriate for a houseboy to display any sexual arousal while in the service of a lady.


In the case of Timothy who lives away, the chastity device remains on even when away from my residence. I find it helps to focus his mind
I have allowed Timothy to continue his career as a graphic designer, and allow him to receive his salary, unmolested by me. But I do, as a result, make him pay me for the hours I work him. This means that not only do I get all my household chores done to perfection, but also get paid for having them done for me.
Along with this fee I also fine him for any display of sexual arousal while in my service. This fine is in addition, and not an alternative, to a severe caning. Both he knows to expect for any sign of sexual disrespect that he shows. I have occasions, had to fine him several times in one evening, particularly if his duties are of a personal nature.
Often I have had cause to award the first fine to him simply after informing him that his evening duties will include preparing my bath and laying out my clothes for the evening. This news alone, is often enough to see a noticeable bulge develop in his tight white shorts, as his imprisoned manhood swells painfully inside it’s tube, forcing it to rise up and press against his shorts.
I currently fine him fifty pound for every display of sexual arousal in my presence.
This means that if I require a my toenails painting, it will inevitably involve at least one fine, a massage I don’t recall ever being accomplished with less than three fines and as far as attending to me while I bathe, dress and ready myself for a night out, such evenings can sometimes amount to well over four hundred pound in fines, dependent upon my mood.
If I recall, his current record is five hundred and fifty pounds in fines in just one evening, which combined with my charge for his work, meant his bill for just three hours in my service was six hundred and ten pounds.

But as Houseboys go, though I would never admit this to Timothy himself, he is very good. I particularly appreciate him taking the lessons in deportment I gave him completely to heart. He now never raises his eyes from the floor in my presence, never speaks unless spoken to, and when he is addressed, he always responds to instructions with a quiet and humble voice.
The rule concerning occasions when he needs to speak to me can be quite comical, as it entails him entering my presence, knocking if the door is closed, waiting at a discreet distance, head bowed…and waiting, until I deign to acknowledge him.
If I am in a mood, I have been known to keeping him waiting, stood rigid to attention like this, for well over half an hour; and then compounding his misery, by caning him for idleness.

I suspect the worst aspect for any houseboy in service to a lady he has come to adore, is having to witness her relationships with boyfriends and lovers. It must be a very dispiriting experience to see the woman you worship and revere, the same woman that treats you with nothing but contempt and cruelty, who never has so much as a kind word for you; snuggling and kissing on the sofa with another man, full of affection and love for him. But the life of a houseboy is not meant to be a pleasant one.
Some of my boyfriends have been initially uncomfortable with a houseboy being around, but it is surprising how quickly people settle into accepting the notion of inferior males being put to work in such capacities. Quite soon most boyfriends become accustomed to his presence and are soon ordering him around as if it were second nature.
It must be very galling for poor Timothy to watch my boyfriend, lead me up the bedroom stairs, issuing orders over his shoulder to have his car washed and polished for when he has finished. How soul-destroying it must be to be cleaning the car of the man who is at that moment making love to the woman you adore.
I know it is cruel of me to admit it, but it does adds an extra thrill for me to have Timothy stood rigidly to attention, up against the wall, in his designated little corner of the room, head humbly bowed, awaiting any orders I may have for him, as my latest boyfriend and I French-kiss and caress passionately on the sofa.
I have even had him in attendance in the bedroom, while we went at it all evening, interrupted only by a break for drinks and a light snack, prepared and served by Timothy, and also a short pause to deliver two dozen cane welts to the backside of an overly aroused houseboy.

Timothy is also instructed to show the same deference and respect to all guests in my house, as he does to me. This can often prove an incongruous sight to see him, a grown man, towering over my young niece, twenty years his junior, with his head bowed, humbly apologizing, whilst she berates him for failing to add ice to her cocoa cola.
But it is my girlfriends that seem most delighted to have a male at their mercy. Timothy is run ragged on a girl’s night-in at my place, with endless orders and instructions. From simple requests for snacks and nibbles, to shoulder rubs and foot baths, and that is even before the drinks start flowing.
Of course once the night truly kicks off, Timothy can find himself in very deep water. I have often seen a girl or girls marching him to a bedroom to enjoy his unquestioning obedience in private. Or a drunken friend announce her need for the toilet and summon Timothy to accompany her.
What my girlfriends get up to with him in these private moments is entirely their personal business. My closest girlfriends know they can use him as they wish; my only limitation is that I will under no circumstance remove his chastity tube. But this does not it seems, impair their pleasure.
I personally, only very rarely make use of Timothy’s tongue, to bring me to orgasm. Not that he isn’t very good at it, he is. It is just that I much prefer to be pleasured by a real man. If I make use of his tongue at all, it tends to be in administering to my behind, in both a cleaning role and as a prolonged leisure activity. One I particularly favour in order to heat me up in readiness for my boyfriends arrival later in the evening.

At twenty-eight Timothy is fast approaching the expiry date for a houseboy, which in my mind is thirty. I have several desperately keen young men to take his place and will next year begin to groom one to take over from him.
Perhaps surprisingly what becomes of Timothy after I have terminated his service to me does give me cause for concern. I know that I am everything right now in his life, all his love, desire and passion and devotion are focused exclusively upon me. It is not at all an exaggeration to say he totally worships me.
Therefore, I do not want to think that after I have retired him, and left him without a reason for living, he somehow manages to piece back together his shattered life, and begin to re-fill the huge whole my presence once filled…I am afraid that my ego would be deem an insult.
I therefore plan, in his final year of service to me, a holiday in Thailand with several of my friends. It is a beautiful holiday destination a magical place. Timothy will accompany us and will pay for the entire holiday and accommodation.
We will stop naturally, at the best Hotel, eating and drinking only the finest wines and food available. We will drain Timothy of all his finances and take his credit as far into the red as we can. We will load our luggage with valuable gifts and exotic trinkets all at Timothy’s expense.
It will be, genuinely a holiday of a lifetime for the poor boy. Not that he will be indulging in any of our extravagances, not one bit of it. He will merely be attending to all our needs in our opulent surroundings.
On the last days of our holiday I will instruct Timothy to journey to the seedier side of Bangkok and purchase some class A drugs for my girlfriends and I to indulge in. Not that we will, instead I will hide them in poor Timothy’s suitcase, and with a small telephone call make sure he is found at the airport carrying them.
I may even tell him before we journey to the airport what I have done and that it is my intention for him to live out the remainder of his life in prison. I know his submission to me is so profound he will not question my right to impose this upon him, but the forlorn look on his face will still be a treat to witness. Likely I will instruct him to get down on his knees in front of my girlfriends, smother my hand with kisses and thank me for ruining the rest of his life.
Either way I will enjoy the notion of sad little Timothy languishing in his prison hellhole for 30 odd years as a direct result of my actions. His entire life wasted and ruined at my whim. And the real beauty of it will be that far from him being angry and filled with hate for me, I know he will still adore and love me. I know I will receive letters from him begging to be allowed to serve me on his return.
Yes, just the thought of his pathetic letters makes me thrill with sadistic pleasure even now. It will be a divine feeling of power to know that someone will be suffering such an appalling existence caused by my hand and yet through it, his love and adoration of me will still survive. To know his single and only comfort, through those long bleak years, will be his sweet thoughts and memories of me… How beautiful.