The First Team

Football ahs always been the main passion in my life. For the past 18 years, I've played and watched the hell out of it, and I know everything there is to know.  My name is David, David Thomson; and I'm a tall lad, with short brown hair and bronzed skin. I don't want to sound arrogant but I've never had any trouble getting the girls; I am a regular at the gym so I suppose I have an above-average body. Anyway, last month I got to meet my local team's manager, a man called Brad Darby. Brad was a lot older than I was, with a bald head and a very muscular build. I told him I'd always wanted to play football at that level; trying to bag myself a trial or something, but I couldn't believe what he said. "I've seen you play before on the field, you're not too bad," I thought of this as a compliment. "Tell you what," he said, "I'll give you a place on the team on one condition."I thought to myself that the condition would probably be something like washing the kits once a day every week or picking up the rubbish off the 100 or so fans that watch us every week, so I replied by simply saying, "Anything."

Brad just smiled, and stood up. I stood up too, thinking he would be taking me to a room I'd have to clean or something like that, but no. He began to take off his shirt, and I got my first look at my new manager's perfect body. I know I said I keep myself in good shape but he was on another level. He didn't have an ounce of body fat on him, you could tell from his bulging six-pack and unbelievable pecs. He didn't look too big though; which I thought was amazing. I stopped and reminded myself that I was straight, I liked girls. 'What are you doing Brad?" I asked tentatively. "David son, I like you," he replied ,"You're a fine young lad. I've been looking for someone like you, to serve me. If you want to join this team as much as you say you do, you'll become my sex slave. Anytime you're called on, you'll come to me and do what I say. If I feel like fucking you one day, you'll let me. If I want to see what you look like in panties the next, you'll put the panties on." I was dumbfounded. I turned to walk out, but I thought about things. I would be fulfilling my dream playing a good standard of football, and all I have to do was serve a guy I already thought was strangely amazing? Could I stomach the occasional fucking I'd get, for a place in the team? I'd made my decision. "Okay Brad," I said apprehensively ,"I'll do it." A large smile grew on his face as he sat back down. "Good boy," he said menacingly, "but from now on, call me Master."