Stafford Fashions Part I: My Arrival


by Keith David <Naughtiekeith@hotmail.com>

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this work may be reproduced in part or in whole in any form whatsoever without the permission of the author.

Copyright © 2000 Keith David

[Note: this is the beginning of what I hope will be a series. Let me know what you think.]

I stuffed the last of my clothes in my backpack as my roommate Peter looked on at me, shaking his head. "I still can't believe that you are doing this," he told me. I jammed my fist into the bag, filling it to its capacity. After three years, I was dropping out of college to pursue a career in modeling. I was discovered by an agency after they saw some of the nude pictures that were taken of me by the art department. I got a job there doing nude modeling after Peter suggested the idea to me. I knew that I had the body to do it, and after a week of contemplating the idea, I went ahead and took up his suggestion.

I flung the bag over my shoulder and grinned at him. "I just could not refuse this offer, and I have you to thank for it," I replied. He was standing before me in a tight white t-shirt and form fitting blue jeans. He had a mixture of disbelief and sadness on his face. Peter and me had a lot in common, and we became best friends very quickly, and lovers not long after wards. I was going to miss him as much as he was going to miss me, but somehow I knew that our paths would cross again.

I gave him a loving kiss on his mouth. I inched back away from him and took a hold of his hand, squeezing it slightly. "Cheer up! I will write to you as soon as I get settled in, I promise," I reassured him. "You know that if this offer was made to you that you wouldn't pass it up too." That was true, and he knew it. They were offering me forty grand a year, plus all of the benefits: free housing, full medical, free food, all expense paid travel and an excellent pension plan.

"You better write." I opened the door and walked down the sidewalk to the cab that was waiting to take me to the airport. I turned back to see him looking at me; I waved. He waved back, and I was off without another word.

About five hours later I arrived at the Las Vegas airport. I collected my bag at the baggage claim and looked around for the person who I was told was going to be here to pick me up. About twenty feet away from me was a man dressed in an expensive black suit holding a sign with my name on it. I went up to him. "I'm Hayden Campbell," I informed him. He did not say a word, but took my bag and motioned me to follow him.

He led me outside to a black stretch limousine. He placed my bag in the back trunk and opened the door for me. I got inside the spacious interior, hardly believing that I was actually sitting in one of these things. It seemed like I was living a dream. "How long will it take for use to get to where ever we are going?" I asked the driver. He started up the car, but never answered me. I shrugged it off, assuming that he could not hear me. I opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, and continued to read the book that I was reading on the plane.

After an hour and a half of driving, we finally pulled up to a gate. I took a look out the window, getting my first look at my new home. My jaw nearly dropped looking at this place. A huge three-story ivory white mansion surrounded by a ten-foot tall red brick wall was going to be my new home. I have never seen anything like it before. I grew up as an orphan after my parents passed away in a car accident when I was ten, living in many different foster care homes, but never in anything like this.

The driver drove the semi-circular drive that took us to the main entrance. He helped me out of the car, retrieved my backpack and headed towards the door. I followed him into the foyer, up the stairs, turned right down the hall, he opened another door, which lead up some more stairs, than we went down another hall. He stopped at a door, opened it and motioned me to enter. I had to half run, half walk to keep up with him, and when I finally made it to this door, I was lost.

I entered the room. Up against the wall on the other side of the door was a neatly made bed with a nightstand and a lamp sitting next to it. On the nightstand was a telephone and an old wind up alarm clock. On my right was an empty wooden bookcase. On my left was a maple chest and – to my amazement – a wooden paddle was hanging over the chest on some hooks. I was about ready to inquire about this oddity to my silent driver, but he spoke before I had a chance to. "You many put away your clothes in that chest," he told me. "Someone will be here to shortly to welcome you."

Without another word, and before I could say anything, he was off. I began to unpack my clothes, staring at the paddle. It reminded me of Peter. He loved to spank me, and I loved being spanked. I always loved to be spanked ever since I was young. Just looking at the thing was giving me an erection! I was about half way done, before I noticed that my name was written on the handle. A chill went up and down my spine, and just then the door opened.

I turned around and saw a man enter into the room. He stood at about six foot one, with very broad shoulders and ripping muscular arms. He wore a gray tank top that showed off his muscular chest. He had closely cropped dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes, and a baby smooth face. "Welcome to Stafford Fashions. I'm Rex, your .... mentor." He said "mentor" as if he was looking for the correct word. "I'm glad that you decided to join our staff, but there are a few more things that we need to clarify about our business."

Oh, here it is, I thought, the catch, but I had a feeling I knew what it was. "You may back out at any time, but once you formally join us there is no turning back," he continued. "You were referred to us by a client who wishes to remain anonymous. That is how we found out about you. Although we do some modeling here at Stafford Fashions, our main source of income is through other services that we hold for the privileged class. We here at Stafford refer to this as our fantasy services, which are mainly male on male spanking, although there are plans to expand into other areas. We are aware – through our anonymous contact – of your _s_e_x_ual background: that you are gay, and that spanking _s_e_x_ually excites you. Now the choice is yours, do you wish to become part of our fantasy services? I most forewarn you that the only way you can get the benefits that we stated beforehand is by accepting this offer."

"Yes, I accept the offer," I answered, without a thought. This whole idea was getting me excited, and I can tell by the grin on his face that he knew that it was.

"Good. You will be referring to me as Master Rex or sir from now on. I will be introducing you to our business culture and developing you in your training. But first I must evaluate you to see where you stand right now in your development as a spankee. I want you to remove all of your clothes, place them neatly on the bed and fetch me that paddle sitting about the chest."

I quickly replied, my erection getting harder by the minute. There was pre-cum already forming on the tip of my _c_o_c_k_ as I handed him the paddle. "Turn around, spread your legs and touch your toes." I did as he ordered. "Now I want you to count each swat that I give you and thank me for them."

SWAT! The first one landed on my left cheek. The paddle was smooth and cold. The paddle itself was about twenty-four inches long and about an inch think. I didn't know how much I could take. I have never been spanked with a paddle that was this big before. Yet, he was not using too much force.

"One, thank you, sir"

"Very good." He let another one fly, this one hitting my other cheek.

"Two, thank you, sir"

He kept this up, alternating between my cheeks, increasing the force that with each stroke. By the twentieth one, I lost my footing and fell.

"Twenty strokes, not bad." I got back to my feet as he placed the paddle back on above the chest. I began to rub my burning backside. He turned around and caught me attempting to relieve the pain. "Don't you ever do that!" he yelled at me. "Unless you are told that you can do so." I dropped my hands immediately.

He got closer to me. "Kneel down," he ordered me. I complied as he unzipped his pants. "Now suck my _c_o_c_k_." I took his entire eight inches into my throat and sucked on him. He was very salty tasting, and his cubic hairs were tickling my nose. In a few minutes his _c_o_c_k_ erupted, shotting his cum down my throat. I drank every single drop of it, wasting now.

"You are a very good _c_o_c_k_ sucker as well." I felt some pride as he told me this. He pointed to my dick half heartily. "You may now jack that thing off."

"Thank you, sir." In no time I came.

"Now lick it all up, and grab your towel. I'll show you the showers."

I could tell that I was going to really love working here!


More stories by Keith David