House Boy – Chapter 08
Please don’t bring me to a gentleman’s club and make me suck another man’s cock.
I knew things were different the moment I stepped off the elevator.
I had only been shadowing the congressman for a couple of days, but in that short time, I could see the shift in how people treated him, and by association, me. Staffers who’d barely glanced at me the day before now stood up straight and nodded when I passed. They knew I wasn’t important, but Adrian was.
And I was Adrian’s.
It didn’t take long for the vote to install the congressman as Head of Appropriations. Once he’d put the pressure on Speaker Smith, the man folded instantly. Within 24 hours, the speaker had given his recommendation, with the steering committee falling in line shortly after. After the party caucus vote (the results had been unanimous, despite Adrian’s reputation as a shit-stirrer), the congressman was officially “Chairman Adrian.”
My first few days had been about getting the lay of the land—learning where everything was, which elevators were for members only, which reporters to avoid and which to “accidentally” talk to. I had a fresh batch of well-fitted suits, courtesy of Julien and the congressman, which made me feel official (it’s amazing what a new suit can do after you’ve been running around in your underwear for a month).
With the congressman in a new, more powerful role, we were both in uncharted territory. Whereas I was struggling just to look like I belonged, Adrian took to his newfound power like a fish to water. Even his new office, with dark wood-paneled walls and giant windows overlooking the Capitol grounds, didn’t swallow him the way it did me.
No, he knew how to act as if he belonged. It was the first of many things I would soon learn from him.
I was returning from fetching his morning coffee when I found him standing by the window, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the grounds.
“Come here, Scotty.” He beckoned me to his side. “I want you to see something.”
I set his coffee on his desk and approached.
He put his hand on my shoulder to guide me in front of him. “This,” he whispered in my ear, “is the view of a man who makes things happen. Who takes what he wants and doesn’t give a fuck about the assholes who stand in his way.”
He squeezed my shoulders and leaned in. “Someone like me.” His lips brushed against my neck. “And maybe, someday, someone like you.”
My legs trembled at the feeling of his tight grip. The congressman seemed to like the risk of playing with me at work. He hadn’t crossed any major lines just yet—only a few lingering touches, a hand brushing against my lower back. Little moments to remind me of his control. Nothing that couldn’t be quickly dismissed upon the opening of a door by a wayward staffer.
As if I’d summoned it, there was a knock at the door. The sound made me jump, but Congressman Adrian just patted my cheek and strode back to his desk like it was an Amazon deliveryman at the door.
“Come in!”
Downing leaned in, his bald head shiny in the morning glare. “They’re ready for you.”
Adrian took a seat behind his desk. “Send them in.”
As staffers began filing in, I remained standing, unsure of where I belonged in this fancy new office. I decided that, rather than embarrass myself by taking up a chair I didn’t belong in, I would stay by the window until everyone had sat and go wherever was left.
The room arranged itself around Adrian: Downing sat to his right, unsmiling and unblinking; his secretary, the young redhead I hadn’t seen since my initial interview, sat in the corner ready to take notes; the other staffers took seats wherever they were available, leaving me standing with nowhere to sit.
The committee clerk cleared his throat. “Good morning, Chairman Adrian. Congratulations again on your appointment.”
Adrian glanced over at me by the window and gave a quick nod toward the empty spot behind his desk. Following his lead, I quietly maneuvered myself to stand behind his right shoulder.
The committee clerk held up a color-coded printout. “We’ll begin with the standard agenda for the first week of transition. The first item of business is a status update on the Defense and Homeland Security subcommittees.”
Watching Adrian at work was incredible. He showed no weakness or indecision, despite it being his first day managing a new staff. They rattled through the agenda, giving Adrian the rundown on reports and procedural mumbo jumbo that I couldn’t follow if my life depended on it.
I had a small notepad with me, which I used to write a note every time someone mentioned something I didn’t understand.
302(b) allocations
Reconciliation instructions
Sequestation triggers
Markup
Minibus
Something about chimps—an acronym, maybe?
For the most part, the congressman ignored me. I was in the middle of writing down a list of possible acronyms that CHIMP could stand for when I heard him mention my name.
“Send the preliminary markup to my assistant, Scott,” he said, tilting his head toward me. “He’ll help me finalize it.”
I looked up from my notepad at the rest of the room, who I could see were just as shocked as I was.
Downing scowled at me. “Sir, I’m happy to–”
“Is there anything else? I have a meeting with the majority leader to get to.”
The committee clerk shot a look at Downing, then closed his folder. “That concludes the agenda, Chairman.”
The room rose along with him as Adrian stood. The staffers filed out one after the other, shaking Adrian’s hand and congratulating him as they left. Finally, it was only me, Adrian, Downing, and the secretary left.
“Stephanie, send the subcommittee updates to my inbox by noon.”
She nodded. “Of course, Congressman.”
Downing lingered after she left, adjusting the knot of his tie. “I’ll go coordinate with Budget, sir.” His eyes flicked toward me. “If you need anything… anything at all–”
“I will let you know,” Adrian said curtly.
Downing nodded, then followed the secretary out, closing the door behind him.
Adrian sat back down, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Take a load off, kid. You’ve been on your feet forever.”
I sat in Downing’s chair, clutching my notepad in my lap.
“You get a lot of good material?” he said, nodding at it.
“Yes, sir. Just taking notes.”
He leaned over and grabbed it out of my hands. “Let me see that… ‘Children Hiding In Many Places?’ The fuck does that mean?”
I blushed. “Uh, I heard someone mention CHIMPs, and I thought–”
Adrian burst into laughter, a deep, throaty laugh that echoed around the room. “Holy hell, you’re hilarious. It means ‘Changes in Mandatory Programs.’” He tossed the notepad back in my lap. “Damn, son. You are the gift that keeps on giving.”
I caught it, my face turning beet red. “I-I was going to look it up later.”
His smile was warmer than I was used to. “Relax, kid. I’m just giving you a hard time. You’ve got good instincts. You can learn the jargon on your own time; I’m not worried about that. In the meantime, when you don’t know what’s going on, staying quiet and listening is your best bet. I won’t throw you in the deep end until I’m convinced you can swim.”
“But… what about the markup you wanted me to–”
He waved it off. “That was just talk. Forward it to me, and I’ll do the rest. The point is to make it look like you’re doing a lot. That way, when you do learn how to pull your weight around here, you’ll already have their respect.”
I looked down. “I don’t think I’ll ever have Downing’s respect.”
He got to his feet. “Don’t worry about him. He knows where his bread is buttered.”
He stood over me, hand on my shoulder. His crotch was so close to my face I could smell his balls.
“I like our new little arrangement, don’t you?” He put his hand on my cheek, sliding his thumb past my lips.
I took his finger into my mouth, sucking it softly as I looked up at his domineering smirk. My cock stirred in my cage, his musk already making my head swim.
He took my hand and placed it on his dick. Even through the fabric of his pants, I could feel the beginnings of an erection.
“We have a few minutes to spare,” he said, more of a command than a suggestion.
I slid to the floor, not breaking eye contact with him. This felt reckless, knowing that any second we could be interrupted, but my desire was linked with his. I unzipped his pants, not bothering to undo his belt, and slipped my fingers through the hole in his boxer shorts until they wrapped around his thick, hairy dick. He’d been putting it in me every night now, stretching me on his dick until I could take it without pain. But taking him in my ass and in my mouth were two very different things. I might not have the pleasure of him rubbing against my prostate, but I was starting to get off on taste alone.
“Open those lips, baby,” he said as he slid his foreskin into my mouth.
I moaned around his cock, bracing myself on his thighs as I took him deeper into me. He’d been training me to suppress my gag reflex as well, until I got to the point where I could deepthroat him without interruption. I still had trouble taking him balls-deep, but I’d gotten better.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slid his cock into my throat. “Good fucking boy,” he growled, shoving his cockhead into my esophagus. “Let daddy in.”
I wanted to touch him more, to run my hands along his hairy chest and his thick belly, but he was still fully clothed. So I settled for squeezing his balls, which had the added benefit of making him cum faster.
Within a minute, I could feel his cock jump in my mouth as the first blast of his seed went straight into my stomach.
“Fuck… oh, fuck, Scotty,” he groaned. “Swallow me… swallow it all!”
I did as he commanded until the last pump of his seed was safe in my belly. Normally, I would have pulled back a little to taste him, but I didn’t want to take the chance of anyone smelling cum on my breath at work. I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock, squeezing out the remaining drops as he withdrew from me.
He tucked his limp cock back in his pants and sighed deeply. “Jesus, kid,” he said with a laugh. “I should have taken you with me to work weeks ago.”
__________
For the next few weeks, I was Adrian’s shadow. He brought me to every briefing, let me sit in on meetings with lobbyists and listen to calls with constituents. I would follow him in the halls, listening as he said things like, “Everyone wants something. Your job is to figure out what it is and what they’re willing to give for it,” and writing them down diligently.
Sometimes he would direct my attention to a spreadsheet and whisper something like, “These districts pretend like they’re moral crusaders, but they fold the fastest. If you want to move a bill, pressure their donors.” I wrote that down, too, determined he would never have to tell me the same thing twice.
Meetings went from sounding like a foreign language to sounding like Shakespeare—I wasn’t catching everything, but I was starting to get the bigger picture. Once I got the hang of the lingo, spending my spare time researching and filling in the gaps, a clear image started to emerge.
There were two different Washingtons: the above-board one, where anyone could sponsor a bill into becoming a law, as we’d been told in Schoolhouse Rock; and the real Washington, where deals were made behind the scenes through bribery, coercion, and outright intimidation.
I was beginning to understand why Adrian had earned a reputation as a non-team player. He was ruthless with everyone, ally and enemy alike. Even his Chief of Staff, Downing, whom he treated with more respect than anyone, wasn’t immune to the congressman’s frustrations and fury. When he was in a rage, which was often, he would spew profanity that brought low-level staffers to tears. I learned to steer clear of him in these moments, waiting until he had a clearer head to ask questions or make my presence known.
When he wasn’t in one of his rages, he took me under his wing without exception. He let me ask questions, even stupid ones, and there were times when I could tell he was proud of how quickly I was picking things up. He was gentler with me than he was with the rest, both in the way he spoke to me and the way he touched me.
And he did touch me. Hardly a day went by without his hand on my waist, his fingers brushing against my ass when no one was looking. That was just at the office, too—at home, he was a different kind of ruthless. I spent my nights sharing his bed, submitting to him and letting him take out his frustrations on my body.
He’d hired a maid, like I’d asked (I made sure she was ugly and not likely to attract the congressman’s advances). She handled all the cleaning and the cooking that previously fell under my purview. Adrian and I would dine together at his home after work, sometimes barely making it through dinner before we were at each other again.
We must have fucked on every surface in his house, from his office desk to the living room floor. Sex with the congressman was its own kind of training, as I learned how to please him, tease him, and inflame his temper whenever I wanted a rougher, more heated fuck. My ass felt like it belonged to him, like an extension of his dick. I still felt moments of shame or humiliation knowing I was allowing another man to defile me, but the sex was too good to give up. So I boxed up that little voice and filed it away for another day.
No matter how rough the sex, or whether I came in my cage or not (this was not a requirement for good sex, in the eyes of the congressman), he would hold me for a while afterward, stroking my hair and kissing me gently.
“You know that you’re mine?” he’d say to me as we lay in bed, his finger gently rubbing the place where he’d just left his seed.
I would nod, unsure how much I was playing along and how much was genuine affection on my part. It was impossible to tell. The congressman was unpredictable in his temper, not exactly someone I could feel safe with or truly depend on. But then there were moments like this, when nothing seemed to matter outside of his bed.
Was I still a whore? Or was I something more than that now?