A gay story: The Gym Janitor Ch. 06 *Sorry I’ve been taking too long i swear this is the penultimate chapter.*
WARNING:
This story will contain uncomfortable language and verbiage. If this content is not your taste simply move on. NOT intended for anyone below 18 years of age and 21 in some states.
•••
‘109 Woodrow Ln Suite. 65
Remember WHO you’re doing this for boy😈’ Sir texted.
My jaw quivered as I sat in my car outside of the gym parking lot. He had lent me his phone number after his request.
Now I didn’t do much labor work aside from massaging a 6″6 Greek adonis, but I was tired as shit. Usually I go straight home and call it a morning, then wake up around 3:00 in the afternoon.
‘If you do a good job I may slut you out.’
His words echoed though my brain after he left. The thought of a reward from this beast seemed heavenly.
I looked up the address on my phone turning out to be a few blocks behind the gym facility. No wonder this man must be able to wake up early every day.
“Arrived”
My map alerted me to the arrival of my fate.
‘Here sir’ I texted.
I walked through the front doors of the building. The inside a palace. I knew I went to a gym in a good side of town but I never imagined anything THIS luxurious.
The front desk concierge greeting me with those “fuck me” eyes. I am positive this man has railed the brains out of her.
“Welcome in!” She said.
I awkwardly nodded given that I clearly do not belong here wearing my janitorial uniform. Little does she know what I’m here to do.
The elevator rises to the 17th floor, the penthouse.
My phone dinged.
“Good boy, use the master key to allow the elevator to open its doors to my condo.”
The elevator doors remained closed, i jangled the keys to find a janky looking one that would fit the tiny elevator key hole.
Voilà. The doors opened into a narrow hallway facing a double door entry. I walked towards the doors.
The place was luxurious. A large corridor that gave view to a huge window that looked over the city. Miles upon miles of lights turning off as the sun was rising.
I was tired, but I craved his reward.
The living room was garnished with throw pillows and a blanket. The kitchen pots marinating in dishwater on the kitchen sink.
Meal prepping does take its toll I guess.
Several Xbox remote controllers were left on the dusty television set along with picture frames containing photos of my alpha posing, all bronzed up, gritting his pearly whites on a golden medallion.
Cocky fucker. Oh how I want your cock to fuck me…
I smiled as I saw my reflection through the turned of television screen. THIS is the moment I have been waiting for. From this moment forward my whole world is about to change. No matter where life takes me, what is about to happen today will be engraved in my memory.
“Enough bullshit,” I said aloud.
“Let’s rock this bitch!”
‘My supply closet is on the left of the refrigerator, the door next to the pantry. You’ll find cleaning supplies, trash bags, laundry detergent. Like I said, no funny shit with my dirty laundry, I’ll wash that shit myself and if I find anything…I’ll rough you up bitch boy😈’ sir texted.
‘Yes sir!’
–
I furnished the living room with an humidifier steaming with essential oils that I found in a box. Everything looked in tip top shape.
Windows wiped. Pillows placed. Dishes done. Even the Xbox controllers were nearly charging.
All that was left was the maste-
My master’s bedroom.
The door creaked and unveiled a king sized bed undone with its golden threaded cotton fabrics. A six by 5 stronghold armored this ginormous fortress.
Funny how his living room looked more like a man cave while his bedroom appeared to be that of a throne.
To the opposite end of his bed rested an office desk bombarded with stacks upon stack of paperwork and file dividers.
‘T-minus 2 hours faggot. You better finish by the time you open the elevator doors for me.’
I rushed to the case and began making his bed and bring out the vacuum from the supply closet.
Luckily all of his office desk was labeled so it was only necessary to put stuff into place where it belongs.
Socks that were thrown on the floor went to the dirty laundry bin. Other stuff seemed too smelly to not keep…but the more I wanted to indulge, the more I remembered our deal.
One of master’s drawers was filled with posting trunks. Shimmery, wool, threaded trunks, elastic at the waist. No use smelling when the scent is detergent but the appeal of knowing HIS cock was in these? Ugh.
The bathroom had a shower surrounded by glass and several products laying on the floor. The cracks of some of the wall tiles looked a bit dirty. And of course like any other man, the toilet seat up, toothpaste squeezed out and on the sink full of facial hair, and damp towels not hung up properly.
This muscle king really needs his servant to keep his dwelling place nice and tidy.
It is nice knowing that he is smart to choose his subs because now I am doing what he knows is best that I do…cleaning.
I got on all fours and began to scrub each an every crevice of his shower. The only time I despise being on all fours.
–
‘I’m coming up.’
My body felt a rush as the notification brightened my screen.
It’s happening. I don’t know whether to be excited, anxious, or existential.
Im excited that he’ll use me, I’m nervous that he might not like my job cleaning, but existential in the sense that regardless of the outcome he will do what he wants with me as his object.
The ding of the elevator doorbell resonates throughout the empty corridor I am standing in. And with the push of a button, the elevator doors swing open, emerging the man of my dreams wearing a nice buttoned up shirt with a black suit hugging his curves. My jaw dropped at the sight.
His eyes locked with mine as he walked towards me with his briefcase in hand. My nervous system numbed as he approached.
His very presence is like a drug.
“Hold this,” he utters as he hands me the briefcase.
His eyes still on me, he begins to loosen his tie from his collar. He takes it out of his neck and puts it on me. Romantic? No. Territorial.
He tightens the knot, cutting off my airway slightly.
“Kneel.”
I got in all fours like a dog.
“You ready boy?” his voice was smooth like wine. Not harsh like before. Very tender.
I nodded.
“Speak up,” he instructed.
“Y-yes sir,” I said.
“No, no, no,” he corrected, “in here, i am your master.”
He pointed at the floor. His hand elevated to his bedroom door.
“In there,” he smirked, ” I am your daddy.”
I think I just came.
“Understood?”
“Yes master.”
“Good girl.”
Girl? Oh fuuuuuuuuck.
“Let’s begin.”