Текст книги "Rough Trade "

Автор книги: Todd Gregory

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Giovanni

Logan Zachary

I stood in the doorway, uncertain of where to go or what to do. Remingtons was a male strip club in Toronto. The sign read “Cover Charge $5.00,” but no one was manning the front door. I pulled out an American five and looked around.

A man danced on the stage, wearing only a pair of white briefs and tennis shoes. The music blared around the semi-crowded room. It was still early. My gaze looked to the bartender, who was busy filling mugs of beer. My glance returned to the stage, and the man’s briefs were down around his ankles. All of his business stood semi-erect and danced in time with his pelvic thrusts.

Arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind and pulled me close. “Enjoying what you see?” a young voice asked in my ear.

I turned and saw a shirtless man with a smooth and pale chest. His torso looked sculpted from stone. His belly button was in and a thin triangle of fine dark hair disappeared into his surfing shorts. His black hair was cut short and spiked straight up.

My mouth was dry and I couldn’t swallow. “I just got here. Where…where do I pay the…” I waved my bill at the sign.

“Forget about that, spend it on what counts.” He winked at me. He stepped back so I could get a better look. No fat on this boy. Young and firm. Very nice-looking, but not my type, he looked barely nineteen.

My eyes caressed his form and I looked over his shoulder on stage. The dancer was showing himself in full glory. The audience had stopped talking and stared as the music ended.

“Give a hand to Dante. He’ll be walking around soon.” The man on the stage pulled on his underwear and descended the stairs. He walked to a back hallway and disappeared.

“Give it up for Chance,” the bartender said as a man strolled to the stage with a cowboy hat, chaps, and holster. His vest flapped open showing a six-pack to die for.

“I’m Carlos. I’ll be dancing soon.” The man next to me guided my attention back to him.

I smiled and nodded.

My confusion must have been easily read, since he continued. “Do you know how this place works?” He took my hand and ran it down his warm chest to where the fine hair began.

This was my first time here, I didn’t have a clue.

“All the dancers have a set on stage and then they walk and work the floor. We talk to the customers.” He ran his fingers through my blond curls and continued, “And if you like what you see, you can have a private dance.”

My eyes widened.

“Upstairs.” His eyes looked to the back of the bar. “There are private rooms there, so you can be alone with the dancer, and get a special dance.”

I swallowed hard, but that wasn’t the only thing hard.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

My mind was spinning so alcohol was not a good idea right now. “Just a Coke.”

“I’ll be right back.” He started off and then returned. He took the five from my hand and walked to the bar. His tight shorts hugged his perfect butt.

“Keep the change,” I called. At least I hoped there would be change.

A thin blond wearing a wrestler’s singlet walked by. An olive-skinned man approached, paused, looked over my shoulder, and veered to the left.

What was wrong with me? Could they tell I was a tourist? Marked by Carlos? A warm breath blew across the back of my neck. Then I knew, someone was behind me.

Slowly, I turned and saw why everyone else made a wide berth. He even made my breath catch in my throat.

My five-year-old nephew collects Rescue Hero figures. Ones I have purchased for him for Christmas and his birthday. This was one of them, live and in the flesh. This was the one I wanted to play with. He wore a pair of Levi’s painted on his perfect body. A thick, black leather belt with two hooks surrounded his narrow waist. He wore big black leather boots on his feet and he had no shirt. Thank you.

He walked up to me and smiled. Holding out his hand, he said, “I’m Giovanni.”

I bet you are, my mind thought.

His chest hair was cropped short against his tanned chest, an even covering of hair that added contrast to his rippling muscles. His pecs fanned out and sloped to a washboard stomach. His treasure trail made the perfect hourglass pattern. He was perfect.

Carlos returned with my Coke, and Giovanni thanked him. He took the glass and handed it to me. Carlos stood there for a second, but before he could say anything, the announcer called him to the stage. He ran his hand through his spikes and headed to the stage.

My body swooned and I sidestepped to a table nearby. I leaned against it, hoping it would hold me up.

“Enjoying your stay in Toronto?” His hand played down my side as he moved next to me. We watched Carlos dance and untie his drawstring. His surfer shorts slipped lower. The crests of his butt glowed in the spotlight. My heart quickened.

His voice was smooth. “Did he tell you how this works? You pay by the song for the special dances upstairs.” I watched as the wrestler guided a man in his sixties to the back hall. Dante had the hand of a blond football player down the back of his underwear; both men were laughing and whispering in each other’s ears.

“So do you want a dance?” Giovanni’s hand stroked my neck and played with my hair, his fingers curling and uncurling my locks.

I couldn’t speak. He was perfect, but I wasn’t sure what to do.

“You’re shy. I think that’s cute.” He continued to play with my hair and ran a finger down the opening of my shirt. His nail combed through my chest hair. “Is there another dancer you like better?” he asked. He pointed to Carlos. “He’s very hot. Tight butt, big penis.”

On stage, Carlos’s shorts were off and the yellow jock was working its way down his hips. His ass shone in the spotlight.

I wanted to look at Giovanni, but wanted to see what was underneath that pouch.

Giovanni laughed as he watched me struggle. “Enjoy him on stage and enjoy me upstairs.”

I took a big sip of Coke and almost choked as Carlos’s cock sprang free from the jock. Giovanni slapped me on the back as the ten inches waved at me from the stage.

“I need a little more time,” I said between coughs and Coke.

Giovanni made a signal to the bartender and spun his arm in a circle in the air. The bartender picked up the microphone and announced, “The Legendary Giovanni is next.” Giovanni turned and kissed me on the forehead. “For luck,” he said.

He dashed off toward the stage, but instead of ascending the stairs that Carlos was descending, he jumped up onto the stage in one graceful leap. He started to sway with the music and dance around the pole. His spine hugged the pole and he swung around and around, each time, his eyes focused on me. They seemed to hold me.

My eyes never left him; he seemed to be dancing just for me. The crowded room shrank and all the patrons seemed to disappear. It was just the two of us and the music. He opened his belt and ran his hands down his chest and across his stomach, his fingertips dipping below the waistband of his jeans.

His belt flapped as he moved his pelvis so that it slapped the pole. To the right and to the left, his hips gyrated, his eyes never leaving mine. How I could make eye contact and still absorb his body’s motion was beyond me. He did low knee bends and squats.

My heart wished him to hurry and take off his clothes, but another part of me wanted this to last forever. The song ended and another one started. The button on his jeans opened and his flat abdomen was slowly exposed. The fan of hair grew darker and thicker. His belt acted like a large penis on stage, flopping one way and then the other, slapping the pole.

My body tingled with the electricity in the room. My heart beat in time with the music. All the hair on my body stood straight up on end.

His zipper slowly lowered, the denim giving release to the fleshy mound beneath. His erection rose from the V and sprang into life. His tight jeans worked their way down his legs and exposed his perfect body. He danced and swayed.

My mouth watered as he moved. The music rose and he smiled at me. I smiled back. He cocked his head to the side, toward the back hallway and the upstairs rooms. He glowed with pleasure and excitement. “Do you want a private dance?” he asked me from across the room.

Could I be reading his mind? Was I able to read his thoughts? My body swayed with the music. The beat grew and my palms went damp. I wiped them on my legs and smiled.

“Come with me,” Giovanni called with his silent glance. “Come with me.” He danced and danced. The music climaxed to the last note.

And I said, “Yes.”

Applause broke the silence as Giovanni pulled up his pants and zipped them before the announcer could say a word.

My legs stood and walked to meet him.

He jumped off the stage and extended his arm in my direction.

I ran to him.

His hand reached for mine as the audience parted. Our fingers wove together as our palms touched. He pulled me to the hallway and up the stairs. The stairs rounded at the top, and we entered an area that looked like it was lined with dressing rooms. Giovanni grabbed a key, and we entered one. He motioned for me to sit on the bench and he stood with his hips at eye level.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked as the Pointer Sisters’ “Dare Me” started. He opened his belt and unzipped his fly. He pushed his pants down to the tops of his boots and moved closer.

I reached around him and cupped his ass. His cheeks fit perfectly into my hands, like they were made for each other. His buns were warm and tight, a fine down covered them as my fingers massaged the muscle and explored the crease. Despite his workout on stage, his skin was dry and soft. I looked at his tan lines that showed the Speedo he must wear when he tanned. I licked my lips as my hands rounded his hips and my thumbs lifted his balls. They dangled low and heavy. They rose with my thumbs as my fingers combed through his hair. His erection stood straight out in front, even bigger than on stage. His foreskin covered the mushroom end and a red light hit something that glistened on the fold. A drop of pre-cum seeped out.

I breathed in deeply, with his erection at the tip of my nose. A musky, male scent assaulted my nostrils and I felt faint. I was dreaming, and I didn’t want to wake up. My fingers ran up and down the length of his shaft. My own hard-on threatened to rip through my pants. His foreskin pulled back and the head of his cock came into view. The deep pink smooth head had another pearl on the tip. My index finger touched it and it slipped off. I rubbed it between my fingers and savored the sensation, warm, wet, and slippery.

Giovanni moaned as my fingers encircled his girth and ran up and down, pulling the foreskin back and forth, exposing and covering his sensitive glans.

“What would you like?” he breathed. His wet tip brushed my nose again and the sweet manly scent filled my nostrils.

Before I could speak, his hands worked my fly open. He pulled down my Calvins. A huge wet spot soaked the front of them. He squeezed the cotton between his fingers and then brought them to his mouth. He licked the ooze off and swallowed deeply, savoring the taste.

His cock lowered slightly by my mouth and my tongue slipped out and tasted his pre-cum. Sweet and salty, and all male.

His hand squeezed more pre-cum from my briefs and brought his fingers to my mouth. My juices mixed with his. Ambrosia.

“Want to try something I enjoy?” he asked.

I nodded and stood. I was unable to speak.

He pulled his foreskin down and opened the fold wide. He spat into his hand, wet the folds, and rubbed the head of my cut cock with his other hand. Spreading the pre-cum around, he guided my cock’s head into the end of his foreskin. His tip met mine, and our juices mixed. He pulled the hood over my cock, securing them together in a vacuum. The thick ooze made sucking noises as our dicks rubbed back and forth in the skin hood.

I grabbed on to his ass and pulled him closer to me, encouraging him to hump me, and my hips met his thrusts. So this is what it felt like to have a foreskin. It felt wonderful.

His hand jacked our cocks at the same time. They seemed to have turned into one huge penis that two could share at the same time. His sensation was my sensation. Our hips rocked and humped. My hands worked his ass. My fingers were slippery and found his tight sphincter. My index finger circled the tight ring and touched the deep pucker in the center.

With each orbit of my finger, our hips continued to hump back and forth. Giovanni pushed back onto my finger. I pressed deeper with each pass, and he pushed back harder. His sphincter acted like a mouth, sucking on my finger, drawing it inside, deeper. I pushed. He pulled. Another pelvic thrust, and my finger went in.

Our rhythm quickened.

The foreskin hood added suction and more pre-cum added to the seal. Giovanni’s hand stroked our two-man tube. Eighteen inches of male pleasure spanned us, joined us, became us. Pearls seeped out the seal and lubricated our shaft. His hand ran down my shaft to the hilt and back to his. He spread more pre-cum with each pass. Our hips rocked back and forth. I fucked his foreskin and it sucked my cock. Tension grew from the base of my penis and pressure built in my balls. My finger sank deeper and deeper, seeking his prostate gland. Faster and deeper, faster, deeper. My finger found the magic spot and pressed his button. An eruption exploded from his cock, filling the small skin pocket with hot, wet thickness. The extra lube and warmth sprayed out of the seal and ran down the length of my shaft, into my curly hair. As the wave hit, my balls released and matched his load. Giovanni’s hand never stopped. He continued the entire length and more cum spilled out of the joint and spread across our cocks. My finger continued to stimulate his gland, sending wave after wave, hump after hump. As our climaxes ended, he pulled back. His foreskin suction popped loudly. My cock strained forward for more. My penis didn’t want to release his yet.

I sat back, spent. Giovanni found his legs were unable to hold him up. He collapsed on the bench next to me. “Wow, was that wild.” He ruffled my hair as our breath returned to normal.

I reached for my wallet. Giovanni held my wrist.

“What?” I asked confused.

“Why don’t we settle up at your place? I get off in a few minutes, we could go out for dinner and make a night of it.”

“I’m staying at a hotel,” I said.

“No problem, we can settle up there too.”

“My room has a Jacuzzi.”

“It may take us all night to square up,” Giovanni said as we walked out of the booth.

“I hope so,” I said. “I hope so.” And it did.

Sold to the Highest Bidder

Christopher Pierce

It had been nearly a year since I had been claimed as a slaveboy, but I still didn’t really believe my Master owned me.

It was all a game, wasn’t it? I thought. We’re role-playing these parts because we get off on it—we pretend to be Master and slave because that’s how we like to see our relationship.

But it wasn’t real.

I even had the nerve to say that to Him.

Did I have a lesson to learn.

I was speaking out of turn, I knew that, but I don’t think I fully realized what deep shit I was in until I said that.

We were arguing about something, I don’t even remember what, and He had gotten me so angry that I finally just said I wasn’t going to do it and He didn’t own me.

He went dead silent.

After fifteen minutes of talking and yelling, He just stopped. Somehow this was more frightening than anything that had ever happened between us.

He just stared at me with those eyes, eyes so dark and deep they were impossible to read.

I had gone too far, that was clear. But was there still time to save my ass?

No, I realized when He got up suddenly and I felt a chill go down my spine.

“Assume the position, boy,” He said. The time for belligerence was over. I instantly dropped to my knees and put my hands behind my back. He walked into another room and opened some cabinet doors, then went into the kitchen.

With my head bowed, I couldn’t see what He was doing, but I felt a cold wave of fear wash over me when I heard the sound of a knife being drawn from the rack.

Oh God, what is He going to do? I thought.

His heavy footsteps filled my ears again and His workboots filled my vision as He stepped in front of me.

Without any warning my Master grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked it up so there was a gap between my neck and the fabric. I heard a tearing sound and realized He was cutting my shirt off with the knife.

“Hey!” I said. Now this is going too far, I thought. “What the fuck do you think you are?”

The blow that hit the side of my face was more powerful than any I had received before. It sent me sprawling onto my side, and all my anger was replaced with fear. I must have let out a whimper because “Shut up, you miserable slave!” was the next thing I heard.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me up, setting me back in the position. I quickly put my hands behind my back again.

“What am I?” He said. “I’m your Master, you little ass-eating cock-sucking piss-drinking dog, and you’re never going to forget that after tonight!”

He finished cutting my shirt to shreds and yanked it off me, then ordered me to lift my ass off the ground. I wanted to whine in fear but knew better than to make any noise. He slid the knife between my shorts and my ass and sliced through the cloth, cutting the shorts cleanly off and leaving me naked and shivering on the floor.

Then cold steel was on my wrists as He bound my hands together with those cuffs from the United Kingdom that won’t hurt you even if they’re on you for days. I smelled leather as He slapped a collar around my neck and padlocked it on, fastening it tighter than He ever had before. My vision went black as He blindfolded me and I tasted something firm and sour as He stuck a dildo gag in my mouth and tied it tight around my head.

I knew it had been soaked in His piss.

“Get up, boy,” He said as He yanked on my wrists. The pain was sharp and harsh, and I got to my feet as quickly as I could. I felt His hand on my neck and I was pushed forward. I stumbled through His house as best I could, trying to go where He wanted me to but making frequent mistakes and getting slapped hard on the ass every time.

Then we entered a place where the air was cold and smelled like gasoline. The garage, I thought, just as He kicked my legs out from under me and I tumbled forward into something hard and small. I couldn’t see anything with the blindfold, but I could definitely sense the darkness closing in when I heard the sound of a heavy door slamming shut.

Then I heard another door open and I got what was happening—I was in the trunk of His car and He was starting the ignition.

Now I got scared. What was this about? Where was He taking me? My mind raced with possibilities—was He taking me to one of His friends’ dungeons to punish me? to a bar to publicly humiliate me? to some faraway place to leave me stranded?

I wouldn’t put any of those things past Him—I had never seen Him this angry before.

After a long time the car stopped and He took me out of the trunk.

“Just walk when I push you, slave,” He said. “And don’t make a fucking sound if you want that hide of yours to stay so goddamn pretty.” He pushed me roughly forward and I moved as quickly as I could.

We were outside for a minute and then entered some enclosure. There was no noise. Can’t be a bar, I thought. Or a friend’s house. I would have heard them talking.

We walked a long time. My arms started to ache from being behind my back so long. We went through so many twists and turns my sense of direction was lost completely.

Finally He yanked me backward by the collar and I stopped.

“Hello, Sir,” a young male voice I didn’t recognize said. “Is that one for us?”

What are they talking about? I thought.

“Yeah, he is,” my Master said.

What? They’re talking about me! What is this?

“He’s a fine-looking boy,” the other man said. My Master barked a harsh laugh.

“Yeah, well, he’s got an attitude problem I can’t deal with anymore.”

Can’t deal with anymore? What’s happening?

“We’ll be able to get something for him, I promise you,” the other voice said. Now I was getting worried. I heard the snap of fingers and suddenly there was someone else in the room. “Let’s discuss details…” I heard just as I felt something hit my legs from the front. I fell forward and was lifted off the ground—someone had picked me up over their shoulder and was carrying me away!

The voices were fading as I started struggling.

“Stop it, boy,” an extremely deep voice said. I couldn’t help it—I was so scared I struggled more, trying to escape the firm grip the man had on my legs. He stopped and whacked my ass with something—the pain that roared from my backside all the way to my head was so intense I screamed into the gag. I went limp on the guy’s shoulder and he started walking again.

“That’s better,” he said. After walking for about five minutes—this place must be fucking huge, I thought—he set me down and uncuffed my wrists. But before I could even rub some circulation back into them, my hands were grabbed and I was shackled with my arms above my head.

“Good one,” another voice said.

“Where’d he come from?” And another.

“Grade Triple-A meat, FDA approved.” Laughter. There must have been at least four of them, I decided. I got so scared I must have started moaning because the guys started laughing again. Rough hands groped my nipples, pinching them hard.

“Don’t worry, boy,” one of them said. “We’re not going to hurt you…”

“Permanently,” someone shot in.

“Shut up, asshole,” the first guy said. “We leave any marks on his skin and we’re all in deep shit.” For some reason, despite the terror, my cock had gotten rock-hard. He put his lips to my ear and my knees got weak at his closeness. “It’s okay, boy,” he whispered. “We only have you for the night. Tomorrow’s the big day, so we won’t tire you out too much.” Now what the fuck did all that mean? I thought.

Soon enough I found out.

I was like a new toy for a bunch of rowdy kids for what seemed like hours. They pinched me, prodded me, stuck clamps on my nipples, whipped my ass with what felt like a riding crop. Finally one of them took the gag out of my mouth and I gasped for breath.

“Please…” I started.

“Nope, none of that,” one of them said, and I felt my arms get unhooked. I was roughly shoved to the ground, and before I could move or say anything else the same one spoke again.

“I don’t want to hear his voice, guys, can you fill his mouth with something?”

Then I was lost in that mix of terror and pleasure again as a huge cock shoved itself into my mouth and started face-fucking me. The others were holding me down, but I wouldn’t have struggled even if I was free.

“I’m going to shoot, boy, and if one single drop of it hits the floor you’re going to be one sorry slave.” I pushed my lips forward, taking the whole pulsing rod in until my lips were buried in his pubic hair. My stomach convulsed as he shot a huge load down my throat. The man pulled out slowly and I kept my lips tight on him, hoping I was getting every last bit.

When he was all the way out I heard applause.

“Good boy!” a voice said.

“Hey guys, it’s getting late.”

“Yeah, let’s finish him, I’m tired.”

You’re tired? I thought, almost delirious. But at least this meant they were nearly done with me. I had no hope of getting my own rocks off, even though my dick was throbbing so hard I didn’t think I could sleep even if I got the opportunity.

Without warning something huge was pushing into my asshole. I screamed in pain as it plunged all the way in and I was roughly slapped across the face and hit in the back of the head at the same time.

“Goddamn, you do have an attitude problem, don’t you, boy? No wonder your Master brought you here. Gag him again.”

I tried to keep my mouth closed but my mind was so occupied with dealing with the huge cock in my ass that all it took was one slap for me to open my mouth and feel it slide in again.

I was fucked at least five times, maybe six. Either there were more guys than I thought, or some of them did it more than once. I didn’t care. I just wanted it to stop. My arms were killing me, my chest and back were covered with bruises and sweat, my ass felt like it had been reamed with a broom handle, and my legs were about to give out.

After the last guy had shot his last load of spunk into me I was taken down. Exhausted, I collapsed into someone’s arms and was picked up. I was brought to some other room and set down on something soft. I was so happy I was asleep before they finished cuffing my hands back together and attaching a leash to my collar.

Seemingly seconds later I was brought to my feet and the cuffs removed from my wrists. I was still half-asleep so I didn’t even try to escape, although it was the first time I had been unbound since this nightmare started. I was picked up and carried to yet another place, and here I was hosed down with warm water and scrubbed clean.

As I slowly regained consciousness, I realized that something was different—last night I had been treated like a worthless piece of meat, a toy to be used—now I was being handled with exquisite care, the hands on my body gentle and caressing, as if they were polishing a priceless statue.

They finished soon enough and I was given something to eat and drink, being fed with the same care with which I had been washed. I felt refreshed and energetic now, and relaxed, somehow—even though not once had my blindfold been removed.

“Is he ready?” a rough voice asked. I recognized it as one of the men from the night before.

“Yes,” someone said. “And be careful with him.”

I guess I’m never going to get to walk, I thought as I was swung up onto yet another man’s shoulder to dangle over his back like a sack of laundry.

Where now? I wondered as the man carried me even further into the depths of the place.

At the slowly rising sound of many men talking I felt nervousness creep back into my stomach and start to grow.

It got louder and louder and as it did I realized that I was not bound, that I might have a chance to escape if I was very quick.

With one fast movement I twisted out of the man’s grip and fell to the floor. I stumbled and got to my feet, starting to run. I slammed into something huge and flat and rebounded backward. I heard loud, deep booming laughter, and I realized I had run into another man.

“This one’s got a lot of spirit,” the voice said when it stopped laughing. “That’ll come in handy.” Big hands locked around my wrists and pulled me into a standing position.

I had had enough of this. I was tired of being touched, of being groped, of being carried, of being treated like a…slave.

Anger flared inside me and I started fighting, swinging with my fists and kicking with my feet. I at least had the satisfaction of knowing it took more than one guy to hold me down.

“That’s enough of that, boy,” someone said as something hit my cock, very hard. I cried out and almost fell.

“As much as I want to whip your pretty ass and brand your fuckin’ hide, I got orders to leave that skin of yours clean and smooth. So count yourself lucky, you worthless pig!” And I was struck across the face with such ferocity that I would have fallen this time if I hadn’t been held up.

The roar of the nearby voices pounded in my ears.

“Prep him,” the voice said and suddenly the hands were hard at work. Nipple clamps were stuck on me again, my ankles were manacled together with a length of chain between them, a leather hood with a gag attached was pulled over my head, and last but not least, my hands were bound behind my back yet again, this time with rope.

“It’s time,” someone said. “Bring him in.” This time I was only carried a short way. Even with the hood I could sense the bright light on my skin as I was brought through some passageway and out into a wide-open space—the space where all the voices were.

So many men, I thought, it must be a whole fucking crowd.

There was an audible murmur of approval as I was brought in. Then the handler set me down in a standing position, kicked my legs apart, and whispered gruffly in my ear, “You only move when ordered to, slave. Do what the auctioneer says. You step out of line and I’ll whip your butt so hard you’ll have more than one asshole when I’m through.”

My stomach did cartwheels.

Auctioneer? my mind screamed at me. Auctioneer?

All the fear and terror of the previous day came back in a rush that was so strong I almost vomited.

“Our next boy is twenty-four years old, five-eleven, weighing a hundred sixty pounds, in prime physical condition—intelligence above average—only flaw is an attitude problem—but that can easily be beaten out of him.” Laughter from the crowd.

I could not believe what was happening. It was true—what was unthinkable was true—my Master had sold me into slavery and I was being auctioned off to the highest bidder.

I wanted to scream and cry at the same time. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. My knees started to buckle and I felt the sting of a whip on my ass and the handler’s hiss of warning from behind me.

And the auctioneer hadn’t stopped talking. “…needs to be broken still, but a fine addition to any master’s stable.”

“The ass!” someone in the crowd shouted.

“Show us the ass!”

“Turn around, boy,” the auctioneer said. I didn’t believe he was talking to me. It took being hit by the whip again to make me turn around. A big swell of appreciative noise was heard as my backside was revealed to the men. The handler grabbed my collar and yanked my head down, exposing my asshole to the room. There were catcalls and more laughter.

A feeling of utter hopelessness filled me—my Master, the man I loved more than all others, had abandoned me, had given me up to the whim of chance, to be purchased like any piece of property or livestock.

I was returned to the standing position and the bidding began.

“We’ll start at ten thousand dollars,” the auctioneer said.

“Fifteen,” a voice said immediately.

“Fifteen!” the auctioneer repeated. “Do I hear twenty?”

“Twenty-five,” another voice said.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars! Thirty?” There was a pause. “Surely this fine specimen is worth more than twenty-five thousand dollars, gentlemen…” the auctioneer purred.