Growing up, James did not have the best home life. His parents weren’t bad people, necessarily, but they were definitely bad parents.

James’ parents had him young and had no clue how to raise a child. They did not make it easy on themselves, either. They were needlessly proud and stubborn, thinking they knew more than they did and refusing to learn from their mistakes and the advice of the people around them.

There was plenty of blame to apportion to James’ parents, but his grandparents had their share in his misfortunes, too. One set kicked his mother out for being pregnant before college. The other set refused to have anything to do with her. They accused her of being a slut. Of being a vile temptress who stole away their son.

Needless to say, James’ parents moved away before he was born. They started over, in a place where they had no roots and no one to turn to when they needed help.

Things could have turned out much worse than they did, in the end. James grew up poor. He never got the things that he wanted, but at least most of his needs were taken care of.

The one thing James needed but never really got was a set of loving and supportive parents. They did their best, but he wasn’t blind. He knew they resented him, deep down, for derailing their lives. They tried not to show it, but it wasn’t all that uncommon for it to slip out.

James’ mother was detached. She worked hard for the family but regarded everything with apathy. She spent most of her free time on the back porch, drinking cheap swill, smoking, and ignoring her husband.

James’ father was overbearing. He had grown up in a relatively conservative family. He was a harsh disciplinarian, homophobic, misogynistic, and a staunch believer in machismo and the patriarchy. He also had a drinking problem and was viciously aggressive short of physical violence.

In the end, once he was old enough, it was James that had to take care of the household. His mother put up with his father’s demands that she be the woman of the house only long enough for her to pawn most of it off to James in the form of chores.

James hated every moment. Middle school only served to put the unhealthy dysfunction of his family in stark contrast to those of his friends.

At a young age, James made two promises to himself: that he would study hard to pull himself out of poverty, and that he would never grow up to be like his parents.

It was difficult, given James’ home environment, but he persevered. He graduated middle school at the top of his class. When high school came around, he took to sports like a duck to water, and it wasn’t long before he joined the junior varsity football team.

For the first time in his life, James could tell his father was proud of him. He was skeptical, of course, but he wondered if it meant home would be more tolerable from then on. It was, for a while, but the thin veneer of a happy, normal father-son relationship came crashing down following his first loss on the field.

James’ father was steaming on the car ride home. When they got back, the screaming started. His father called him all sorts of names for bungling a play. He tried to be brave, but he couldn’t take it. He broke down. The moment the first tears fell from his eyes, his father switched gears and started calling him all sorts of other names, mocking him for being weak and aggressively asking if he was a "faggot."

The comments struck a chord. One thing sports had helped James realize was that he wasn’t like most other guys. He cringed whenever they talked about women, and at times he couldn’t help but sneak a peek whenever the others were showering.

James discovered that he was gay. He would have been happy to never think of it again until he’d moved out, but his father’s tirade had laid bare his fear of being found out.

It was a learning experience that James took to heart. He put distance between himself and his parents and poured his all into academics and athletics. He was diligent. He did all his work. He kept his head down and stayed out of trouble.

As he worked his way through high school, James created a plan to get into a good university and stuck with it. He did his best to balance between sports, academics, and all the crap that went down at home.

Unlike the other jocks in his year that pretty much acted like the only plan they had in their life was to coast by on their high school popularity and passable athleticism, James worked even harder than he had to. Just in case.

Tragedy struck on the home stretch. A week out from the start of football season in his senior year, James tore his ACL during practice. He’d made contingencies for potential injury in his grand plan, but nothing that covered being out of commission for the entire football season.

Just like that, the plan that James had slaved over, the plan that he’d hoped would bring him out of poverty and into a brighter tomorrow, went straight out the window. It was depressing and for good reason. For a while, he lost all motivation. His grades took a hit. By the time that he recovered from his slump, it was already too late for his fallback plan of an academic scholarship.

A full ride was the only chance James had to get out of the backwater Podunk that he’d known for all his life, but those hopes were dashed now. His family was too poor to send him off to a good university, and there wasn’t a chance in hell his parents would pay his way, besides.

For a year, James bounced around random odd jobs trying to scrape together even a single term’s tuition to one of the universities that he’d planned to go to. He didn’t manage, but he wasn’t about to give up. If there was anything the year had made clear to him, it was that he needed to get away from his parents for his own sake.

With fresh determination, James revisited his options. He’d only considered universities based on his chances for sports and academics scholarships, but those opportunities had already fallen through. He could always go into the military, but if he was being honest, he would rather chew his own arm off. What he needed, then, was an affordable but reputable institution.

Over and over again, one particular institution, Crane University in Minneapolis, came up in James’ search results. It was never at the top, and since he’d never heard of it before, he ignored it, at first. However, as it quickly became apparent that affordability and reputation seemed mutually exclusive for most standard university offerings, he bit the bullet and looked Crane University up.

The tuition fee was remarkably low and, at least according to the school’s website, there was free room and board for out-of-state students. It was suspicious, to say the least, and James was on guard from the start, as a result.

James’ suspicions weren’t allayed at all when he discovered that Crane University had a sex & kink (SK) offering at an even better price than the usual stuff. Such programs were still controversial, and not just among the conservative groups that decried them.

Despite the last few governments’ sex-positive policies and the legalization of sex work, some of the old stigma around sex remained in the public sphere. Nevertheless, sex & kink programs opened plenty of doors to degree holders, and many of them were for respectable positions.

Sex & kink programs in general didn’t focus exclusively on sex and kink. There were a few that did, but they were far from the default. In some ways having a sex & kink degree was a detriment, but the world was changing. Some positions had sexual service bonuses, and with the increasing legitimacy and popularity of sex work, it was always an attractive and lucrative way of making money on the side.

It wasn’t the kind of program that James had ever thought of taking, but between the price and the potential benefits, it was hard to ignore. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to make any rash decisions. The price was almost too good to be true, and he wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything shady going on.

James didn’t have to look too far. In the university’s Frequently Asked Questions page, the top query was about the tuition fee and why it was so cheap. Once he’d read the answer, it made a lot more sense than it had at first.

On the page was a breakdown of the tuition fee. The "normal" tuition fee was about what James would have expected from an Ivy League university. Seeing the number alone was almost enough to make James’ heart stop. The interesting part was at the bottom of the tally, however.

As it turned out, Crane University was a subsidiary of Hierarch Industries. Little wonder, then, that it could afford to slash the tuition fees by little over 90%. There was only one teensy catch: the discount only applied to students who agreed to a two-year placement contract with Hierarch Industries.

It made sense. Hierarch Industries wasn’t taking students in at a loss. It was investing in them, investing in a dedicated workforce of college-educated employees.

In light of this information, the sex & kink focus also made a lot more sense. James hadn’t done much research on Hierarch Industries, but there was a reason he was familiar with the name. Not only was it a corporate giant, but it was also at the forefront of the movement to normalize sex and kink in the workplace.

The more he thought about it, and the more he researched about Crane University, the more James felt that he’d found the university he wanted to go to. It hadn’t been his first choice but it just felt right to attend.

Sure, James was a bit anxious about the placement contract but, at the same time, even if it didn’t work out in the end, it was okay. There wasn’t likely to be a better, shinier jewel on a resumé than a placement at Hierarch Industries.

---

Crane University was a bit of a culture shock, to say the least. The moment James stepped foot onto the school grounds, he knew he was in for quite the experience. The campus was huge. Bigger, even, than James expected for a university that had the backing of Hierarch Industries.

There were a few buildings in "front" of the campus. Even though one of those small buildings housed the public-facing branch of the university administrative office, the facilities were more geared toward visitors. James remembered thinking they were more like a tourist center than a part of a reputable university.

Apart from a quick tour around the facilities, which included a gift shop, a café, a small bookstore, and a couple of fast food joints, James didn’t end up spending too much time in the "front of house," so to speak. As an incoming student, he was shepherded right past the tall privacy fence that encircled the entirety of the campus proper.

The fence was a relief. Given that one of the courses on the curriculum for the sex and kink program was called "Public Sex," James had been more than a little anxious about outsiders seeing him in compromising positions. He was glad to know that all but the most determined peepers would be deterred. It was even better when he found out that the airspace above Crane University was restricted.

Nothing could have prepared James for what lay beyond the fence, however. Stepping through the threshold with the rest of the incoming freshmen was like walking into another world entirely.

James was instantly rock hard at the sight of all the men walking around naked. The embarrassment was short-lived, however. A glance around proved that most of the other freshmen were in a similar state. Consequently, there was a lot of shuffling and adjusting of pants as the group made their way across campus to the freshman dorms.

---

"Please, sit," said the first-year academic counselor for the sex & kink department, gesturing toward one of the plush seats in front of his desk. James’ brain, which had been in a state of arousal ever since arriving at Crane University, took a moment to process the request.

"O-oh, yes, thank you," James stammered. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the counselor—one Dr. Joseph Serapio. The man’s impeccable dress was drool-worthy. His suit was tailored precisely to fit his muscular body and hugged all the important curves and angles.

As James had come to learn, the freshman side of campus was a bit stricter on the dress code, at least for the first half of the year. It was to ease the transition, according to what his RA had told him. Still, he’d half-expected the counselor to be naked when he walked in. The immaculate suit was almost worse.

"I have to admit, James, that it’s not that common for students to make appointments with us before orientation," said Dr. Serapio.

"Y-yeah," said James, lowering his gaze, cheeks flushed pink. "I-I’m sorry about that, uh… Dr. Serapio. I-I just wanted to get ahead of everything, you know?" he mumbled.

Dr. Serapio chuckled. "Call me Joe," he said. There was a glint of something mischievous in his mellow brown eyes as he raked his fingers through his hair. "And it’s no problem, at all. I think it shows remarkable initiative. So, what can I help you with today?"

James blushed even harder at the praise. His cheeks felt like they were going to burst into flames. "T-thank you, s-sir," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Um… I’m just feeling a little bit overwhelmed… uh… sir,"

"You don’t have to be so formal, James, but I can’t say that I don’t like it," said Joe, with a light laugh. "In any case, feeling overwhelmed is totally understandable. I know that the campus culture is very different from the outside world. It takes some time to adjust to that so you don’t need to be in any big hurry about it. That’s what this first term is for!"

James flinched. He hadn’t even thought about that. He hadn’t had time to. His brain had been working overtime on figuring out his plan for his education at Crane University. "O-oh, um… I-I more meant I wasn’t sure what to do about my specialization… I-I looked at the academic calendar and, um, there are so many."

Joe chuckled. "Oh, I see," he said. "I take it you were a pretty good student in high school?"

James’ cheeks burned. "Y-yeah," he stammered, trying not to look Joe in the eye.

"Normally, I would say that you should probably slow down and take advantage of our first-year courses to get a better feel for what you might want to do in the future but I take it that doesn’t work for you?" said Joe, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"N-no, sorry," James muttered, looking down at the space between his feet. "I uh… I like to plan ahead. I-is there any kind of… a-aptitude test that I can take to narrow down my choices?"

Joe grinned. "You should have just said so," he said. He got up from his chair and walked out in front of his desk, sitting back on the edge. "I can perform an… ‘aptitude’ evaluation," he continued, doing air quotes around the word "aptitude."

James’ expression brightened. "What do I need to do?" he said.

Joe chuckled. He pushed off the desk and stood in front of James. James looked up at him. "How much sexual experience do you have?" he said.

James blushed harder. "Um…"

"I’ll take that as none," said Joe, with a light laugh. "That’s alright. Stand up. Let me get a good look at you."

James hesitated for a moment, but he did as he was told. Joe grabbed him by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length, looking him up and down a few times. Joe briefly squeezed his upper arms and hummed.

Blood rushed to James’ cheeks and his cock as Joe’s hands swept up over his shoulders and down to cup his chest. The counselor’s touch was electric as he gave James’ muscles a quick squeeze. James chewed on his lower lip. It was all he could do not to moan.

"I’m going to need a closer look," said Joe.

James stared at him, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. He froze. His brain stopped working, thoughts short-circuiting.

Joe’s brown eyes glinted. "Take off your shirt," he said, in a quiet, teasing voice.

James flushed. He crossed his arms in front of him, grabbing opposite sides of the hem of his shirt. In one smooth motion, he whipped it off his torso.

The shirt had scarcely left James’ head when he felt the light touch of Joe’s fingers on his chest. He tensed immediately. The counselor’s fingers were warm and they made his skin tingle but he wasn’t used to this kind of touching.

Joe’s fingers swept across James’ chest. They stopped at his nipples, which the counselor rubbed gently between his thumb and index finger. It was a strange sensation, and not entirely unwelcome. It felt good and only felt better as Joe squeezed tighter.

James looked away. He couldn’t bear to watch Joe playing with his nipples. It was too hot. "Fuck," he said, under his breath.

By the time Joe let go of James’ nipples, they were erect. "How do you feel about nipple piercings?" said Joe.

Purely on impulse, James looked down at his chest. He reached up and tapped one of the rigid nubs. "I-I don’t know," he said. "H-honestly. I’ve never really thought about it."

Joe nodded. "Think about it now. Do you hate the idea? Do you like it?"

James scratched his cheek. "I don’t hate it," he said, slowly. "But I don’t love it either."

"Hm… Alright," said Joe. His hands slid down James’ body, cupping his sides. His thumbs traced the sides of James’ abs, and stopped just short of the V-lines on his torso, rubbing gentle circles just above them. "Nice and fit," said Joe.

James blushed.

"Take off your pants," said Joe.

James hesitated. His hands were already at the waistband of his sweatpants before he could think about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to go the rest of the way.

It wasn’t like James was unused to being naked around other men. He’d been on the football team for a while. Nudity was all but expected in the locker-room. He just hadn’t had an opportunity to get used to being naked in front of another man in such an intimate setting.

All the same, James figured he would have to get over himself sooner or later. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and pushed them down in one smooth motion.

James was glad he’d worn his nice briefs. The pair of red bikini trunks hugged his form, and the pouch in front cupped his package nicely.

Joe whistled as the sweatpants slid smoothly down James’ legs. "Do you shave or are you naturally hairless down there?" he said.

James’ face reddened. The tips of his ears burned. "I-I’m naturally smooth…" He stopped himself just short of saying the word "sir." It just came so naturally.

Joe glanced up at James and quirked an eyebrow. He chuckled. "I see," he said, as he got down on his haunches.

James’ cock twitched. What felt like an electric shock raced up his legs as Joe’s fingers brushed against his skin. Joe traced the thick, corded muscles of his legs, giving them a playful squeeze every now and again.

Joe’s light touch was so unexpectedly sensuous that by the time Joe got to James’ calves, the jock was half-hard in his briefs.

"Shoes and socks, please," said Joe.

James didn’t even question the order anymore. He could see where this was going. He gracefully stepped out of his shoes and socks as he was told and braced himself against the chair behind him when Joe picked up one of his feet to examine it closely.

"Nice legs," said Joe. "Nice feet, too. You did sports, right?"

James nodded.

"I can tell. Looks like you were pretty good at it, too. You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to, but is there any reason you chose not to pursue a career in it?" said Joe.

James took a deep breath. "Y-yeah," he said. "Maybe once upon a time I wanted to? But I got injured before football season in senior year. There wasn’t any coming back from that."

Joe got up. He placed a hand on James’ shoulder and squeezed. "I’m sorry," he said.

James waved his hand in front of his face. "It’s okay," he said. "It’s all in the past now."

Joe nodded. "I realize this might sound crass, after that, but I’d like you to take your underwear off."

Cracking a grin, James said, "I thought you might say that." He peeled his red briefs off and set them aside. His half-hard cock flopped out between his legs, twitching every now and again as the blood raced through it.

"Hm. Not bad," said Joe, reaching down to cradle James’ balls in his fingers.

Joe’s hand, for whatever reason, felt searing hot against the sensitive skin of his sack. James stifled a moan as Joe rolled his testicles over his fingers. It was even worse when Joe loosely grabbed his cock and gave it a few tugs. He was hard as a rock within seconds.

"Respectable endowment," said Joe. Then, he took a step back and gave James yet another once-over. He clicked his tongue in what James could only hope was approval.

Joe then gestured for James to turn around. James followed the nonverbal command without a second thought.

"Bend over the chair a little," said Joe.

James followed. He flinched as he felt Joe’s hands on his lower back and shivered as they traced the curve of his ass. The feeling of the cool air on his bare hole made it twitch as Joe pried his cheeks apart.

James clenched instinctively as Joe’s finger brushed over his pucker. Then, his legs nearly gave out from under him as Joe rubbed circles around it. "Fuck," he whispered, fighting down the whimper that threatened to spill out.

"Nice and smooth. Perfect," said Joe.

James felt no small measure of disappointment when the counselor pulled away. He didn’t know why, exactly, but he missed the sensation of his hole being played with. He looked over his shoulder at Joe, unsure what to do since the counselor had not told him to leave the position yet. "W-what do you think, sir?" he said, before he could stop himself.

Joe chuckled. "I think we can rule out everything on the ‘dominant’ path for you, son," he said, patting James on the ass cheek.

James blushed. It had never occurred to him that he would be ill-suited for dominance. He had always thought of himself as masculine. He certainly had no lack of assertiveness. Well, most of the time, anyway. "W-why is that, sir?" he said.

Joe raised an eyebrow. "For one thing, you can’t seem to stop calling me sir. That indicates to me that you respond well to authority. Well, that and the fact that you’ve followed every command I’ve given you without hesitating too much or asking any questions."

James opened his mouth to say something, but Joe continued.

"Furthermore, not once in this whole encounter have you attempted to assert your own dominance. In fact, you’ve expressed no desire to take control or challenge me, my authority, or the things that I’ve made you do," said Joe.

James froze as Joe came up behind him, hips pressing into his. "Besides, you so meekly bent over this chair when I told you to do so that I don’t think you have any room to argue…" Joe murmured, right into James’ ear.

A low whine escaped James as Joe’s fingers wrapped loosely around his cock. "And you’re such a pretty little thing that I’m sure you’ll do well in our submissive program," the counselor whispered.

James shivered. His cock throbbed. Joe was stroking him, lightly. It was just enough to tease him, to excite him, but it wasn’t enough for much anything else.

With a quiet moan, James hunched his hips into Joe’s hand. He was mortified but he couldn’t stop, either. He gripped the armrests of the chair for support, knuckles turning white.

"Tell me, do you see yourself as more of a top?" said Joe. His other hand slid down James’ side. It lingered at his hip for a moment before he felt Joe’s rough, calloused palm caressing his ass cheek. "Or do you see a future in being a bottom?"

James chewed on his lower lip as Joe’s fingers dug into the flesh of his ass. He humped his cock into Joe’s hand. He couldn’t help himself. It felt so good. He bucked his ass backward onto Joe’s other hand, as well, especially when he felt Joe’s thumb rubbing up and down his crack, tantalizingly close to his hole.

"I see how it is," said Joe, with a light chuckle. "I should have figured, from the beginning, to be honest. You struck me as rather resilient and adaptable. I suppose it only makes sense that you’re versatile in this sense, as well."

James felt light-headed. Right now, thinking was an ordeal. His cock was so hard. It felt like all the blood in his head had been diverted downward and with all the familiar sensations was a new one, deep inside of him, an itch—a need—begging to be scratched.

"You’re fairly industrious and hardworking, aren’t you, son?" said Joe, rubbing his thumb more insistently on James’ quivering pucker. "And it seems like you’re certainly eager to please…"

James tried to bite back a moan and failed miserably.

"Tell me, do you see yourself being the kind of submissive partner that lazes around all day, treated and pampered like a prince by your dominant?" said Joe, the low, gruff tone of his voice sending tremors down James’ body.

James’ head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He ended up considering the question longer than he would have, otherwise. He mulled it over. It sounded nice to not have to do anything, to not have to lift a finger, for once. It also didn’t sound like the life he wanted to lead.

Sucking in a sharp breath as Joe’s grip around his cock tightened, James shook his head.

"I thought so. In that case, I think you’d fit well in a service role," said Joe.

James dropped his head over the backrest of the chair. Sweat was beading on his forehead. He felt like the temperature in the room had ratcheted up a few degrees, just from the casual way that Joe was touching his body.

"What do you imagine your ownership situation will be like?" said Joe.

James moaned. Even after a few seconds, he couldn’t quite understand the question. He hated to admit it, but he was ignorant about these kinds of things. He didn’t even know where to begin.

"Let me put it another way," said Joe, giving James’ cock a few sharp tugs. "Do you think you would like serving a single master as his primary partner?"

It was a nice thought. James had seen porn like it before. He’d always thought it was hot but he let Joe continue. He wanted to know what the other options were.

"Or would you be open to serving one or more masters as, basically, a third wheel? Maybe with other submissives involved, too," said Joe.

James’ cock throbbed. He could imagine it, serving as the live-in boy of a couple, serving them in whatever way they needed. Maybe even as part of a harem. He didn’t know why but the idea was just so damn hot.

"Or would you like to primarily serve an organization, instead? Say, for example, working for an adult club?" said Joe. "Just another employee, there for the benefit of the clientele…"

"Fuck," James breathed. He hadn’t even known that was an option. He didn’t know why but it made his whole body tremble. It was just… The idea of it was so hot. To be owned not by a person but by, essentially, a company. A moan bubbled up out of James before he could stop it.

"Of course, your future could always be a combination of the options… So, what will it be? 1, 2, or 3?" said Joe.

The answer came to James faster than he thought it would. "2 and 3," he croaked, voice wavering as Joe’s thumb pushed into his hole.

"Good answer," said Joe, with a quiet laugh. "In that case, I’ll recommend you for the ‘Rent-Boy Service’ track."

James moaned. Even the sound of it was hot.

"Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it, son?" said Joe.

James shook his head. He let out a moan as Joe’s fingers tightened around his cock. He couldn’t help it. His mind was still fuzzy. His thoughts were frayed. He humped his cock into the counselor’s hand with abandon.

"Good boy," said Joe. "For being so obedient and cooperative, I think you deserve a reward. Don’t you?"

James nodded. He didn’t know whether what he’d done deserved a reward, but he wanted it all the same.

A low whine escaped the prospective student as Joe pulled his thumb out of James’ ass.

"Maybe next time," said Joe, with a chuckle. His free arm, thick and corded with muscle, wrapped around James’ chest.

James moaned again as Joe pulled him upright with a grunt. The chair lifted an inch off the floor before he let go of it. It dropped back down with a thump just as he felt Joe’s crotch press up against his ass.

The guidance counselor made no secret that he was enjoying this situation just as much as James was. He thrust his hips into James, letting the freshman feel the big lump in his pants.

James arched his back, pushing his ass into Joe’s crotch as Joe jerked him off properly, this time.

"Yeah. That’s it, son. Just enjoy the moment," said Joe.

James whined. He was close. He was so close. Joe’s hand felt so good on his cock. He was leaking so much. His whole shaft was slick with just his pre-cum. The quiet, wet squelching of each stroke filled the air, reaching a fever pitch as James’ bare toes curled against the floor.

With one last whimper, James spilled over the edge. His load, thick and creamy, shot out of his throbbing cock and splattered all over the leather upholstery of the chair he’d been using as support until just recently.

James flinched as he felt Joe’s hot breath against the back of his ear. He was coming down from his orgasm, chest heaving.

"First rule of being a submissive," said Joe, tone low and gruff, "the sub cleans up after all his messes."

James’ knees crumpled like paper under him as Joe pushed down on his shoulders. He knelt in front of the chair, eyes riveted to the cum dripping down the upholstery.

Not one part of James’ body fought as Joe’s hand, on the back of his head, pushed his face down toward one of the cum splatters on the seat of the chair. "Go on," Joe encouraged. "Clean it up."

As James opened his mouth to lap at the cum, the only thing he could think of was how right the whole thing felt. Between his legs, his spent cock surged back to life and he could but let out a little moan as the tip of his tongue made contact with the small puddle.

James was excited to see what else Crane University had in store for him.