Dominance - Part 2

All characters are consenting adults (18+)

I sat on the weight bench and watched a young man squat across the gym. He was in his late twenties, had a decent body, and his ass stretched out the white shorts that he was wearing. I tried to decide if I was enjoying the sight, and turned my head to the side to get a better view, but no matter what part of his impressive body that I stared at, nothing happened.

I sighed with relief as I confirmed to myself, for the tenth time in the last three days, that I was in fact, straight. It was funny really, that Paul had made me question myself like that. Maybe it was just the stress of everything that had been going on with me ex, or maybe it was just an awkward situation that my brain had reacted oddly to, but it didn’t matter. I was straight, and that was that.

“I told you not to wear underwear”.

The voice made me sit bolt upright and hit my head against the bar. “Fuck!” I spat, grabbing at the pain.

“I also told you not to swear” Paul said, standing above me and watching me with those cold, dark eyes.

“Huh? Oh yeah” I mumbled, rubbing my head.

“Quite the brat” he said, and I dropped my hand and stared nervously back at him. How was he so easily able to make me feel like this? My stomach twisted with a weird sense of excitement, and my brain suddenly forgot how to function.

Paul walked around toward my head and added more weights to the bar. Then he added more, and even more after that.

“I can’t lift that” I said, turning around to him.

“I know” he replied, and grabbed my arm before pulling me to my feet. “Spot me”.

The man lay down and I watched in awe as he began to bench the absurd amount of weight. The guy was a fucking beast! And the veins in his body began to swell almost instantly.

I stood behind him, though my presence was completely useless. There wasn’t a single shred of hope that I would have been able to catch the bar had he let it fall, but thankfully, Paul had full control, and when he eventually finished, he stood up, grabbed my towel from around my neck, and dabbed his damp face with it.

“How’s life?” He asked, and didn’t even wait for an answer as he turned on his heel and walked toward the changing rooms.

I scratched the bruise on my head and tried to wrap my head around the guy. What was his gig? Did he like me? Did he hate me? Was I irritating him? Entertaining him? I simply couldn’t read the man at all, but there was something about him that kept me endlessly curious.

“Fine, I guess” I said, following him into the warm, sweaty room. Another guy stood half naked, across from us, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Paul didn’t pay him a blind bit of notice, and was naked in seconds.

“How about you?”

He stuffed his shorts into his bag, and pulled his long cock away from his body. I turned my head to avoid staring at it.

“Are you still working at that pizza joint?” He asked, completely ignoring my question.

“Yeah, I’m going there tonight” I told him, and I sighed when I realised that I was working a late shift.

“No you’re not” he said, and pulled out a pair of clean underwear from his bag.

“I am” I replied, cocking a brow. “I start at six”.

“Not tonight you don’t”.

“What?”

“Did I speak French?” He asked, and I was becoming even more confused than I already had been.

“Dude, I have work at six” I explained again.

Paul walked around the bench and looked down at me. His naked body glistened with sweat from his intense workout, and his large cock hung inches from me. I gulped and bowed my head, but Paul tilted it back up with his hand.

“How much do you earn an hour?” He asked.

“Uh… I um… Like ten bucks”.

“How about fifty?”

I scrunched my brows. “Fifty what?”

“Fifty bucks an hour”.

“I wish” I scoffed, “but flipping pizzas ain’t that type of job”.

“Are you always this irritating?” He asked, still holding my chin. “You’re going to work for me now, Cole. I’ll pay you fifty dollars an hour”.

Before my face had a chance to reflect my shock, Paul had already returned to his locker, and I watched in disbelief, as the man pulled on his underwear and got dressed.

“I… I don’t understand” I said, as my mind raced. “What do you mean I work for you now?”

He threw his bag over his shoulder and picked up my phone that I’d left on the bench. “Open it” he said, turning it around to me. On any other day, the idea of giving my phone to somebody who was basically a complete stranger, would have made me laugh, but there was something so stern about his tone, that I obeyed him and handed it back.

“You’ll arrive here at six” he said, writing down an address. “Don’t be a minute late”. He handed me back the phone and left before I could even look at it.

“What the fuck” I whispered, staring at the screen, until I realised that the other guy in the changing room had walked over.

“Damn” he said, shaking his head as he stared at the door that Paul had just walked out of. “It’s not every day you see Paul Stockton here”.

“Who?” I asked, before realising that he was talking about my Paul.

“Paul Stockton” the man said, and when he noticed my confusion he scoffed. “Teenagers” he said, shaking his head and walking toward the door.

“Who is he?” I barked, but the guy disappeared and now I was really curious.

It was a gamble, indeed. How could I trust a man that I’d only met a handful of times? My entire job was on the line, and I was supposed to just not show up? As I sat in my bedroom back home, the idea became more and more ridiculous until I eventually decided that it wasn’t worth it.

I lay back on my bed and pulled out my laptop. I had an hour before I was due at work, which was plenty of time to cram in some last minute college stuff, but my mind trailed back to the conversation in the locker room, and before I knew it, I was Googling his name.

My eyes scanned the results for Paul Stockton, and it didn’t take long to find him. The first link I clicked on was an article from the previous year: Business Tycoon Paul Stockton Secures Billion Dollar Deal in Manhattan.

I gawped at the headline. It couldn’t be my Paul. What on earth would a billionaire be doing in my local gym? I scrolled down further, and found another article: Paul Stockton; From High School Teacher to Buff Billionaire.

“Holy shit” I gasped to myself, scrolling through countless articles which showed the handsome man shaking hands with other men, or sitting in fancy cafes for posed photo shoots, and even one of him in a swimming pool, looking even better than usual.

I checked the time again. I had fifteen minutes to get to work, or I had fifteen minutes to get to the address that was still written on my phone. “Fuck it” I said, excitedly, and grabbed my jacket before rushing out the door and hopping onto my bike.

The man’s words rang in my head as I sped through the city. Don’t be a minute late. I cycled faster, and faster again and with just two minutes to spare, I reached an apartment building and stared up at it. It certainly didn’t look like a billionaire’s home. It was as normal as every other old apartment block in the city, but I pressed the buzzer and waited.

“Third floor” Paul’s voice called back a moment later, and I took a deep breath and walked inside.

Just as I had expected, there was nothing fancy about the crumbling place. In fact, the whole thing was completely empty, and had been gutted entirely. Bricks and rubble lay scattered around the floor, and large white dust sheets covered most of the furniture. I slowly approached the stairs, and walked up to the third floor.

“You made it” he said, without looking back at me, as he painted one of the walls.

“Yeah” I said, eyeing the empty space. “Uh… What is this place?”

“This?” He asked, finally looking at me, and waking up the butterflies. “A little project I’m working on”.

“Do you own it?”

“Do you usually paint buildings you don’t own?” He asked sharply, and I gulped. “Yes, I own it”.

Why was he always so blunt? And why the fuck did that bluntness not turn me off him? It was beginning to feel like the harsher he treated me, the more I idolised him.

“You’re Paul Stockton” I eventually blurted, and it sounded far less impressive than I had intended it to.

“You’ve done your research” he replied, but continued to paint. I didn’t answer him, but he didn’t break the awkward silence either. Perhaps he enjoyed it.

“What do you want me to do?”.

Paul put down the brush and wiped his hands on his grubby white t-shirt. He walked over to me, guided me toward the window and stood behind me as I stared down at the bustling street below.

“Do you like the area?” he asked.

“Uh… Yeah, I guess”.

“You guess?”

I cringed. “I mean, yeah it’s nice”.

“Nice?”

“It’s great!” I growled, and heard the man laugh behind me.

“How would you like to live here, Cole?”

I looked back at him and scoffed. “You know the rent here is like five grand, right?” I half laughed, “I barely make that a year”.

“Rent free” he said, remaining expressionless.

“Yeah right”.

“It’s yours”.

I turned around now. Was this dude on drugs? “What do you mean it’s mine?” I laughed, but Paul simply watched me. “I can’t afford a place like this”.

For a moment, Paul didn’t speak, until finally he smirked at me.

“I don’t want your money Cole” he said, and stepped a little closer. “I want you”.