#I overheard that dude and his coworker / boss talking with an older guy

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Went to the bookstore today and asked about their mythology section and this frickin guy had the gall to be like "Yeah it's over here, but these are really dense and difficult so let me show you the children's mythology section." I was so baffled I didn't say anything. Normally I would've been very offended, but I couldn't help but laugh because I was like "I've been reading those massive textbook-esque mythology books since I was a literal child as research for my novel, sir. But sure, show me the kid's section, I like reading kids' books too."

[myperfectdad]

38. Reinforcements

Out in the real world, I was usually invisible. I preferred it that way. When no one is paying attention to you, there’s no one to disappoint. No one makes your life miserable just because they’re bored, and they’ve decided to make you their free entertainment. At my job, I was just another junior copywriter, one of a dozen laboring away in identical cubicles. At my favorite bookstore, I was just some brainy nerd who knew everything there was to know about the Diet of Worms. In my group of friends, I was the quiet one who always showed up on time, and who always left behind extra cash to supplement everyone else’s embarrassingly small tips. In the real world, I was ordinary and unremarkable. Maybe even forgettable. 

But at home, I was Master Paul, the young, dominant owner of three hot, submissive, older men. Every morning I woke up to one of them gently kissing me awake, while another ironed my work clothes and the third prepared breakfast. Everywhere else, I was just another mild mannered twenty something with too many student loans and a goatee that never quite grew in right. But here, I am the Master and what I say goes. They’re all 20 years or more my senior, and each of them is a respected professional in their field. But at home, they’re my property.

After two years of living together, my subs and I had our weekday morning routine down pat. Shower sex, grooming and dressing, then a quick breakfast before we all went our separate ways for work. Frank, the eldest of my subs, used his military training and natural commanding presence to keep the other two, Max and Nick, on a tight schedule in the mornings so none of us would run late. Turns out it required a fair bit of logistical planning to get four grown men out the door and off to work on time.

“You’ve hardly touched your coffee, Master Paul,” Frank said one morning at breakfast, after I’d been uncharacteristically disengaged during our shower session. “Is something troubling you, Sir?”

Truth be told, something was, but I didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s nothing,” I said.

“Of course, Sir,” Frank said. “It’s not my place to pry. But if you change your mind and it’s something we can help you with, please tell us.”

“Yes, Sir,” Max and Nick chimed in. I had always tried to keep “Paul” and “Master Paul” separate. I didn’t want to muddy the waters of the amazing thing I’d created with these subs by folding in talk about my professional struggles or personal disappointments. But the way they all looked at me, genuinely concerned that I didn’t seem myself, made me change my mind.

“There’s this guy at work who’s been giving me a hard time,” I said finally.

The sound of creaking leather and boots striking the floor sent pleasant chills up my spine. All three of them stopped what they were doing—Frank making coffee, Max packing lunches, and Nick washing dishes—and closed ranks around me. Each of them wore a similar look of concern on his face.

“I don’t like the sound of that, Sir,” Max said. “What is this punk doing that’s bothering you?”

Telling my subs about it was cathartic, because I hadn’t spoken of it to anyone prior to that. I told them how one of my new coworkers, a dude bro called Andrew, had been taking credit for my work and cracking jokes about me behind my back. Things had reached a new low the day before, when I overheard Andrew telling our boss that he had fixed a bunch of errors I’d made in a document, when it was the other way around. 

With each word I said, my subs’ muscles tensed and their hands clenched into balled-up fists. If I didn’t know them better, and they weren’t my obedient property, I’d have thought they were getting prepared for a fight. They stayed silent for several moments after I finished telling them all my beef with Andrew, until finally Frank spoke and broke the rising tension. 

“Sir, I’d like to drive you to work this morning, if I may.” 

“Me too, Sir,” said Nick. 

“All of us can go,” said Max. 

“No, men,” I said, using the authoritative tone that signified to my subs that the discussion is over. “I will handle this on my own, but I appreciate your support.” 

“We are yours to control, Master Paul,” they recited in unison. 

Things at my job got worse over the next few days, and back at home, my men could tell. True to their word, they didn’t try to force the issue or convince me to let them intercede on my behalf. On Friday, however, they did have my leather uniform laid out on the bed and a new pair of spit-shined boots resting on the floor just beside. I smiled when I saw what they’d prepared. Friday night was Bear Night at Buddies, our local bar, and my subs decided to treat me to a night out to blow off some steam. 

It worked. Buddies was the exception to the rule of Paul being invisible in the real world. Everyone who came to Buddies on Bear Night knew about Master Paul and his three older subs. I don’t want to say I’m a local celebrity or anything, but when a 24-year-old guy takes on three 40-something leather men as property, word gets around. By last call, I’d almost forgotten about Andrew, the obnoxious bro who’d been giving me such a hard time at work. Until, that is, when my men and I were walking back to our car and we saw Andrew coming out of Silver House, one of a half dozen identical, anodyne bars in the neighborhood where boring straight people like to congregate. I stopped and held out a gloved hand, which signaled my subs walking behind me to stop, too, but it was too late. Despite the dim streetlights and my head-to-toe leather gear, Andrew recognized me. 

“Hey guy,” he said, his attention already on the trio of big, beefy, leather clad men flanking me. His cocky smile wavered somewhat. “Having a good night?” 

“We were,” I said. I don’t know what came over me, but the combination of the alcohol, the company of my subs, and the evening at Buddies where Master Paul held court for hours just went to my head. “Men, this is the guy from my job I was telling you about.” 

All three of them closed in on me. Frank tilted his head upward to view Andrew from under the brim of his Muir cap. “Is that so? Looks like an overgrown frat reject to me.” 

Nick grunted in agreement. “Are you enjoying cosplaying as a real man?” 

“Listen,” Andrew said, “I’m not looking for any trouble.” 

“Too late,” Max said, grinding leather fist into a leather palm. 

Andrew tried to walk past me, but my men blocked his path. “Let me just go to my car, erm, Sir,” he said, looking uneasily at Frank. 

My men laughed. “No, you don’t call me Sir,” Frank said, then clapped me on the shoulder. “You call him Sir.” 

Andrew looked confused, his eyes darting back and forth between Frank and me. “Maybe if you apologize and ask him nicely,” Frank continued, “he’ll call us off.” 

I felt calm and in control as Andrew looked at me one more time. I knew he would comply, just like I knew my submissive leather men would comply with my orders. For the first time, the distinction between “Paul” and “Master Paul” seemed to blur. And for the first time, I didn’t seem to care. 

“P-Please, Sir,” Andrew stammered, “would you call of your men and let me go to my car?” 

I leaned in close and spoke to Andrew in a voice so low, I doubted my men would hear. “It’s Master Paul and Sir from now on. We clear?” 

Andrew nodded. I crooked my neck to signal my subs to let him pass, and we continued our way down the sidewalk. I was rock hard from putting my work bully in his place, and I wondered why I’d wasted so much time trying to keep “Paul” and “Master Paul” separate. As I looked at my submissive men, each of whom looked like he’d take a bullet for me if I asked him to, I decided there’d be no more double life. My men were my property, and I would show them off as I pleased.