Not everything that seems...

Every day I have to deal with the thirteen mechanics in the workshop I manage and I have to assert myself to them with decision and firmness, because if one were to give in to the dozens of requests they make on a daily basis, the business would be ruined. I also have to be mindful of the tricks they come up with to avoid their work, even if only for a few minutes. That's why I have a reputation for being an asshole, and I know that some, those who have been with the company for less time, avoid having to sit in my office due to the "fear" I instill in them. I believe it must be like this because if the workshop didn't have that discipline, the business would seriously suffer and, therefore, their jobs.

Nevertheless, I can't help but wonder what the reaction of any of them would be if they knew that the boss they fear and avoid wears a jockstrap and sometimes a cage on his penis under his clothes. That every two hours I have to send a WhatsApp to my master to inquire about his well-being. That this master, to whom I owe obedience, is younger than most of them and that I accept this brat calling me a bitch, whore, or fat as every name; that he always refers to me in the feminine and that at home I must always be naked and with my ass clean and available for whatever he may require. That daily, before going to the workshop, I have prepared his breakfast and sucked his cock until he has poured his cum in my mouth, ass, or on the toast that I must eat. That my mouth is always available for the young master to receive not only his cum but also his urine; that I take care of his shower so that he doesn't even have to bother to soap or scrub his body. And all this makes me leave the house horny and with a hard-on.

What would the mechanics think if they knew that all the money I haggle with them is used for my master to have those sneakers he desires, that iPhone he fancied, or to spend on that trip to Berlin he so craved. What would they think if they knew that in order to continue having access to that cock, I do and will do whatever that brat asks of me. And that this young man not only asks, but increasingly raises the bar.

What would they think if they knew that I kneel before him like my God and lick his feet. That when I met him, I set some boundaries that he respected at first but that, little by little, he has been crossing without me caring. That my ass and mouth are used every weekend by his friends and that not only do I accept it obediently but gladly, because nothing turns me on more than young cocks. That I am the toy of his friends on those Friday and Saturday nights, friends who know all my holes and of whom I know the taste of their cum and spit; of some also the taste of their piss.

What would they think if they knew that some Sundays I have been fucked on their workbenches and I have attended to the master's cock in the changing rooms they use daily. What would they think if they knew that the fear they feel when going to my office is comparable to the fear I feel when I have to call my master to tell him that I will be late coming home due to work problems, knowing that it will have consequences that night in the form of spankings on my ass and strokes on my useless cock.

What would they think if they knew that on that trip to Berlin we took, my master, in gratitude, arranged an orgy with several Berlin bears who, dressed as mechanics, fucked me, peed on me, and spanked me in a workshop similar to ours. What would they think if they knew that I, who control all their absences from work with an iron fist, every time I say I'm going out to see suppliers I'm actually meeting my master's sexual needs. That time when supposedly I went to a business conference, I actually went to an orgy organized by the master, for three of his friends, strangers to me, where my only function was to make my mouth and ass available to them.

But I have to interrupt my thoughts, the master has just sent me a message, he wants me to go home because he was not satisfied this morning and needs to fuck me, I think he said in the fourth storage room. I leave for home after inventing an excuse thinking: what would they think if they knew...