House Rules Ch. 03

Blonde

Chapter Five SLOW TURN

As I had mentioned, I was becoming more submissive to Mr. Clemons.

Some people would say it’d be only natural for me to allow him dominate me…for me to feel submissive to him.

After all, they might argue, he was a powerful, successful 6’5, 235 pound man. I, on the other hand, was slender with hardly any muscles. Some might even say I was soft. I was barely 5’7. Okay 5’5 and three quarters (if I’m being completely honest) and maybe 132 pounds…soaking wet.

It was more than that though. It was complicated.

It’s hard to explain but I’ll try.

In less than three weeks, I began to see Mr. Clemons as more than just my landlord. He was my friend, I guess you can say.

He was, maybe, a father figure?

Nonetheless, I found myself wanting to please Mr. Clemons and make him happy.

I wanted him to know I intended on being the best tenant ever and that meant doing what I was asked to do without question. It meant being respectful. It meant not rocking the boat.

I knew had a good thing going.

I had a nice room in a lovely home. I had a pool. I had all the amenities I needed.

More importantly, I had something I had been without for so long. I had stability.

I listened to Mr. Clemons’ counsel and when he made suggestions about how to improve my life, I took them. Not because I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t listen to him. I respected him and his opinion. If he cared enough to offer guidance, why wouldn’t I accept it graciously?

For instance, when he suggested I start a vitamin regime, I began almost immediately. Six vitamins every morning with a glass of OJ! Every day!

After all, over our first cup of coffee, Mr. Clemons had promised to help me with my workout program and transform my body. I trusted he knew what he was talking about. If those vitamins were part of that program, then so be it.

He even watched me take them so I couldn’t slack off or forget. That’s because he cared about me.

I mean the man looked like an ebony Greek God and was part owner in a gym. He knew what he was talking about!

I no longer ate sugary, little kid cereals for breakfast.

I wasn’t seven years old anymore, he said as he fixed me a special protein shake I would take with my vitamins. I mean he was taking the time to make me a special protein drink! Every morning!

Mr. Clemons was just so good to me. I felt very cared for and I wanted him to know I appreciated everything he did for me. I would dedicate myself to his program and work very hard to show him he wasn’t wasting his time.

He even loaned me his collection of workout reading material.

The magazines he gave me contained inspirational quotes, along with some workout tips, recipes for smoothies and shakes and even relaxation techniques.

And to inspire me even more, there were tons of glossy, beautifully shot photos of men in all types of poses. There were white and black bodybuilders. Mostly though, the models were black men.

Some of the models were even nude. This was to demonstrate what could be achieved when you really focused on your workouts.

I would sit with Mr. Clemons and he and I would look at the photos and he would point out the various muscle groups. He taught me the names of each muscle and told me I’d better learn because he would test me every now and then.

Every night I would study those photos and try to learn the names of each muscle.

I wanted a body like the ones I was seeing page and page.

Those bodies were magnificent.

I was taking my vitamins and drinking my yummy protein shakes. I started to feel better, healthier, and was excited about getting into the gym and working out with Mr. Clemons and seeing the kind of results he had promised.

My first trip to the gym wasn’t at all what I had hoped for though.

I thought we would hit the weight room together and pump some iron together but Mr. Clemons had other ideas for me.

He saw my pout and explained he had a plan for me. I just had to trust him. I had to be patient with him.

Of course I trusted him.

Of course I would be patient with him.

This was Mr. Clemons!

There’d be no weightlifting, he explained, not just yet. Instead, he told me, he had signed me up for some classes. One was a cardio class called Pump ‘N Burn. The other was a classed called Bellies and Butts.

Basically, he explained, he wanted me to increase my stamina and work on my core. Without a strong core, he said, I could work out all I wanted and still see no results.

I wanted to see results!

He asked if I trusted him.

I told him I did with all my heart.

Mr. Clemons knew better than me, so I started my first Bellies and Butts class.

I was a little shocked to see I was the only guy in the room. casino siteleri

At least Pump ‘N Burn was a little more of a mixed group and we did get to use weights. They were very light, only one pound dumbbells. I felt like I wasn’t lifting anything at all. i would trust the system though.

There were 11 women and two guys in my cardio class. I assumed the other guys were gay. Only because I kept catching them staring at me and smiling in a flirty way.

It was funny how none of the women did that.

I was kind of cute. At least I thought I was.

So while Mr. Clemons pumped iron with his four muscle buddies, I was on all fours doing donkey kicks and other exercises to improve my core, belly and butt.

After that first class I could hardly walk.

Mr. Clemons laughed and said I’d been pouting because I didn’t think I was going to get a good workout. He asked how I felt afterwards.

I pouted a pout for him and he laughed.

Then he tousled my hair with his big hand and said in a few weeks I’d be kicking ass and taking names.

I said, “As long as it’s not my ass.”

We both laughed.

Oh my God! My butt was sore. My belly was sore. My legs were so cramped Mr. Clemons had to help me out of the truck and up the stairs to my room.

He ran a nice hot bath for me while I undressed. He helped me into the tub and told to me to soak. He even added some crystals to the water he said would relieve some of the cramping.

Whatever those crystals were, they sure smelled nice. And they felt wonderful!

After I had soaked for a while, and the water in the tub had cooled, Mr. Clemons told me to come to his room.

I shouted back I was only wearing a towel and said I’d be down in a minute.

“Nonsense,” he said, “You’re perfect the way you are,”

I padded on down to his room and he told me to lie down on his bed.

When I asked why, he smiled and said, “I’m going to give you a massage, Oz.”

Didn’t I tell you he was awesome?

“I’ve been told there is magic in these fingers,” he said, wiggling his ten fingers at me.

He told me he was going to work out my kinks which would alleviate the cramping which would relieve the pain I was in at the moment.

Sounded good to me.

When I started to get on the bed, he looked at me and said, “No towel, Oz.”

I looked down at my towel.

“I can’t massage you through a towel, Ozzie. Not if you want to feel better,” he said.

I removed my towel and handed it to him. He threw it onto a chair in the corner of the room. I lay on his king-sized bed, on my stomach and listened as he gathered his lotions and potions.

Mr. Clemons turned on the CD player on his dresser. Some 70’s soul music came on and I started to relax. I told myself to stop being so silly. Mr. Clemons had seen me naked many times before.

He’d spank me over his knee, for Pete’s sake!

“This was just a massage. Stop being such a goof,” I told myself into the mattress.

Mr. Clemons began massaging my legs, thighs and butt. He really knew what he was doing. His hands felt great and the more he massaged the oils into my body, the more they warmed. I could literally feel the pain being rubbed away.

I closed my eyes and almost drifted off I was so relaxed.

When he was done, he gave me a quick spank, told me to get dressed and we’d go out for dinner.

I rolled over and was shocked to see I had an erection. I tried to hide it but he said,”No worries. It happens sometimes. It’s your body’s way of saying, ‘Thanks! That felt great.’ Why don’t you go into your room, take care of it, get some clothes on and I’ll start making dinner. Maybe we can make dinner together. After you take care of your little friend, that is.”

I looked down at the pink head of my cock. It was shiny with precum.

I got off the bed and ran out of his room, my little erection bobbing up and down as I did. I got into my room and closed the door. I lay there on my bed and started to pump my little cock into my damp towel. It didn’t take long.

I came. I cleaned up. I got dressed.

I did notice I was moving much better.

Magic fingers indeed!

I threw on some underwear and then tried to decide what to wear. I wanted to look nice so I put on some new jeans and the new shirt Mr. Clemons had bought me. It was a polo shirt. It was the color of a creamsicle. It was a little tight on me but it looked nice.

I wanted to look nice for Mr. Clemons.

Before I met him downstairs, I checked my face and hair in the mirror in my room.

We had a nice dinner. As a treat, even though it was a junk food, we had ice cream. We had cones and even sprinkles!

As we sat there across from one another at the kitchen table, a drop of ice cream dribbled onto my chin. I waited only a second. Mr. Clemons slot oyna tenderly wiped it off with a napkin. I thanked him and licked my cone.

He asked if I wanted to try his flavor.

I had gone back and forth on whether I wanted the Cherry Royale, the flavor I had finally chosen, or the PBnP, the flavor he had chosen.

Peanut Butter and Praline sounded good but I was a cherry kind of boy!

Mr. Clemons took a long lick of his cone and then offered it to me. When I reached out to take it from him he said “I’ll hold it, Oz.”

I hesitated.

“Go on. It’s okay,” he coaxed in that soothing tone he had.

I looked at him.

“Wouldn’t want you deciding mine was better than yours and stealing it from me.”

We laughed and he extended his arm another two inches

The cone was right there! Just in front of my face!

I leaned forward in my seat and licked his ice cream. His eyes were locked on me as I took several long licks.

Finally he pulled it away from me.

We laughed and when a drop of chocolate ice cream dribbled onto his chin I wiped it off for him.

That night I dreamed of ice cream cones.

Chapter Six WORKING IT OUT

After a couple of weeks, my body no longer screamed at me after my classes, which I was now taking four times a week.

In addition to swimming every day, taking my vitamins and drinking my protein shakes and going to the gym, I was starting to see some difference in my body.

I wasn’t putting on muscle mass though. Instead my body was getting leaner. My belly was flat and toned. Which made me happy. My butt on the other hand, looked quite different.

I know it sounds crazy, but I could have sworn it was rounder, even fuller than it was before I started working out.

I was noticing that my pants, shorts and even my underwear were tighter on me.

There was no way I was putting on weight. Not with all the working out and swimming I was doing. It was a mystery to me.

One day, wearing only tight little gym shorts, the neon green ones Mr. Clemons bought me for the gym (along with the neon blue, yellow and pink ones) I asked him, if he thought my butt looked bigger.

He was working in his home office. I was standing in front of his desk letting him decide for himself.

He told me to stand up straight. I did. Then he told me to turn slowly to each side. I did. Then he told me to turn around so my back was to him. I did.

He told me to bend slightly and I did.

My little shorts crept up into my crack and I had to pull them out.

Mr. Clemons got up, walked around his desk and put his hands out.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I said, standing perfectly still and straight.

He put both of his strong hands on my butt. He gave me a slight squeeze. Then he stepped back and laughed.

Mr. Clemons said my butt looked like it always had. Maybe it was more toned, he said, but rounder? Fuller?

He didn’t see any difference. He said it was just my imagination.

I thanked him for his time and apologized for being silly. He told me no apology was necessary.

Then, as I was about to turn to leave, he added that my butt was just as cute as it always was.

Well, that was something at least.

I think I might have blushed.

Yeah. I’m pretty sure I did.

Mr. Clemons suggested some other changes to my appearance and I took them gladly.

Like when he said I would look better without the scruff of hair on my chin and on my upper lip, I immediately went upstairs and shaved my face clean.

I hated looking 15 but if Mr. Clemons thought I’d look better, then that’s what I would do.

When I walked back downstairs afterwards, he smiled and said, “Now that’s much better. Look at that pretty mug!”

I didn’t even care he said the word pretty.

One day as I was cleaning the pool, Mr. Clemons noticed that I was constantly pulling my long hair out of my face. I asked if he thought I should get a haircut and he said no. He said he had much simpler solution.

He went into the pool house, came back out and handed me a pink scrunchie.

“Pink?” I asked.

“It’s just a color,” he replied.

Pink? I thought to myself.

“Unless you’re insecure in your masculinity. Are you insecure in your masculinity, Ozzie?”

“No,” I said confidently.

“Then?”

I turned around for him. He pulled my hair back into a ponytail and secured it with the scrunchie.

“Better?” he asked.

It was. He was right.

“Much, Sir, thank you,” I said with a smile.

From that point on, I wore my hair in a ponytail held by my pink scrunchie when I cleaned the pool and laid out. Sometimes I wore when I cleaned the house.

Once he asked how I was getting any sun on my neck or shoulders with my ponytail hanging canlı casino siteleri down like it was and suggested I pull my hair up.

So I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail and held it with my pink scrunchie.

He was right, again, and I got more color on my neck and shoulders.

Once for the heck of it, as I was standing in the bathroom, about to brush my hair into a ponytail, I parted my hair down the middle and pulled it into two side ponytails. Kinda like pigtails. As a joke, mind you.

I thought it would be good for a laugh.

When I walked downstairs and Mr. Clemons saw me and my pigtails bouncing as I walked, he smiled and said, “Damn, that’s too damn cute, Ozzie. You crack me up, Kid. Just too damn adorable.”

I kept my hair like that for the rest of the day.

I was even wearing my scrunchies to the gym. I got so sweaty working my abs and butt it was nice to have a way to keep my hair out of my face.

When we got home after a Saturday workout, Mr. Clemons surprised me with a present.

It was a package of scrunchies in all different colors!

“One for each day,” he said, “Jus to mix things up a little.”

I thanked him. He was so good to me. He was so awesome.

He also gave me some little tank tops. They were tanks the gym sold but because he was part owner, he got them for free. He said if I really wanted to thank him, I’d help him advertise the gym.

There was a red tank, a pink tank, a white tank, a yellow tank and a baby blue tank. They were a little tight on me but Mr. Clemond said they showed off how toned my body was becoming.

That’s all I needed to hear.

Now I had outfits to wear to the gym! I had my little shorts, my tight tanks, some new bobby socks and the new trainers Mr. Clemons had bought me. They were pink and grey and, as he explained, would feel much better than the crappy sneakers I had been wearing. They’d also help with my posture.

He was right! I did feel the difference.

Mr. Clemons was so smart and right about so many things. I loved hearing and taking his suggestions.

Plus, I was always complimented on for my little outfits and that made me happy.

Four times a week I looked forward to going to the gym with Mr. Clemons and joining the girls for an hour of exercise.

One time, after class, one of the women in my Bellies and Butts class walked up to me and with a smile said, “You’re very lucky.”

“Why is that?” I asked, pulling my little neon pink shorts out of my butt.

“Your boyfriend is really handsome,” she explained.

I laughed and said, “Oh he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my landlord.”

Just then I turned to see Mr. Clemons setting down a bar loaded with weights. He stood and saw me and smiled. I waved. He waved back.

He looked so strong. His muscles rippled under his tight shirt soaked with sweat. He flexed for me and I giggled out loud.

Then I realized he was looking at me with, what I can only describe, as a sense of pride.

I must have been doing a great job in my classes.

Seeing him look so proud of me made my heart happy.

I grabbed my little bag and water bottle and spent the next half hour watching him and his buddies lift weights.

When they needed water, I would get it for them. When they needed their towels, I would get them.

Most of the time though I just watched them work out.

I admired how much weight they were lifting. I couldn’t wait to be able to do the same. At least I hoped I’d be able to but the weights looked really heavy.

I’d probably be better just taking my classes and swimming.

Yeah. Much better.

I found myself staring at the four men. Their bodies were amazing and their black skin glistened with sweat.

Every muscle was visible!

Every muscle, if you get my drift.

I waited patiently for Mr. Clemons to finish up his workout. His friends thanked me for being so helpful and I told them anytime I could help, I would.

They walked past me on the way to the locker room. They were all as tall and big as Mr. Clemons. I felt so small next to them.

Demetrius, Mr. Clemons’ best friend, an ex-football player, walked past me and said, “Thanks cutie.”

I thought I would die right then and there.

I grabbed my little bag, bottle of water and towel and waited in the lobby for Mr. Clemons to finish showering.

I picked up a copy of Teen Vogue and flipped through the pages, looking at the photos of all those pretty young girls.

Mr. Clemons was probably taking a steam and a shower. I guessed the five of them were probably all showering now. All his buddies and him. All of them naked…steaming… and showering.

I got lost in my thoughts and before I knew it Mr. Clemons and I were driving home.

Home. That had a nice sound to it.

About a month after the incident in the kitchen and my first over-the-knee spanking at the hands of Mr. Clemons, something happened which started me on a new path.

It was an uncharted path and I didn’t know where I would end up.

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