Текст книги "Rough Trade "

Автор книги: Todd Gregory

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Not without seeing his face he ain’t!” someone called to a swell of laughter.

“All right, all right,” I heard, and then a strange whistle filled my ears. Instantly I felt the scrabbling of the handler’s hands unfastening the hood. The leather mask was pulled off my face and as I breathed in the fresh air and the light hit me a great roar rose in the room.

“Fifty thousand!” someone shouted. Still with my blindfold on, I couldn’t see a thing, but I guessed that they could see enough of my face to make a judgment. My mouth was ungagged, but I didn’t even think of speaking. I had felt the handler’s whip too often already.

Now the bidding went fast and furious. It climbed up higher and higher as the men fought for me. I was poked more, prodded, forced to show my asshole—once I was even ordered to display my technique and had to suck the handler’s cock for a few minutes to delighted whispers in the crowd.

I was getting tired and weary again, standing under the hot lights. I felt like a thousand eyes were burning into me, and all I wanted was just to be left alone for a few minutes. I had given up all thoughts of escape. Without my Master, I was nothing. I consigned myself to being a slave to some anonymous man, never to see my Master again.

I realized after a while that the bidding was dwindling down to only a few voices, four or five it sounded like. And soon enough that was down to three, then two.

These two men outbid each other for a long time, to the mounting excitement of the crowd. Finally it seemed that one of them had given up and would bid no more.

“I have five hundred thousand dollars from the gentleman in the second row,” the auctioneer said. The room was silent.

Everyone, including me, was holding their breath. “Five hundred thousand dollars…” he murmured. I wondered how much of it he got. “…going once, going twice, s—”

“One million,” a new voice said. The crowd roared with excitement and I heard the other man swear loudly.

“One million dollars! New bidder!” the auctioneer screamed in ecstasy. “Going once, going twice, SOLD! To the man against the far wall!” The crowd applauded wildly and the handler grabbed my arms, pulling me backward.

The last thing I heard as the handler tossed me over his shoulder again was “Payment in cash must be made now, the handlers will prepare him for shipment and he’ll be in your possession by this evening…”

The handler took me away from the auction room and as the sound of the crowd faded, I could feel my spirit die with it. It was over. I had been sold. I was a slave for real, and for good now. I had been purchased. For one fucking million dollars. Then something sweet was brought to my nose and I started to black out. The last thing I remember is being slid into what felt like a canvas bag and hearing the top of it tied closed.

When I woke up the blindfold was gone. I was shackled to a wall standing up with my arms and legs outstretched.

So this is my first day as a true purchased slave, I thought miserably, I’ve been bought and sold. But whoever this new man is, he will never truly own me—my last shred of pride will be used to resist calling him “Master.” My true Master has given me up but I will always belong to Him and Him alone.

Suddenly a hand grabbed my forehead and pushed my head against the wall. A note was shoved in front of my eyes.

This is your first day as my slave, boy. I am your Master. Your only purpose is to serve me. You will obey me unquestioningly, or you will be severely punished. You are my property. Nod if you understand.

I quickly nodded and the hand released me. Then the man walked in front of me.

“Look at me,” he said. I raised my eyes and what I saw was so unbelievable that I lost control and pissed down my leg.

It was my Master.

I stared at Him openmouthed.

“I bought you back for two reasons, slave,” He said as He pulled a whip from behind his back. “First, I wanted you to know how valuable you are to me.” He leaned forward and very tenderly kissed me on the lips. If I hadn’t already lost my urine I would have lost it then. That kiss was so filled with gentleness and love that it felt like heaven. Then He stepped back and raised the whip.

“And secondly, I wanted it to be perfectly clear that I will take no…” He flashed the whip forward and it cracked across my chest. “…more…” Again he struck me. “…of this…” Again. “…‘you don’t belong to me’ shit!” and He started raining blows on me, striking and pounding me with the whip over and over and over.

It was more painful than anything I had felt in my life. I screamed, throwing my head back and slamming it against the wall. Suddenly I heard my scream of torment change, becoming a scream of pleasure—my dick was as hard as steel and was ready to explode.

“I bought you, slave—YOU BELONG TO ME!” my Master screamed. I felt the whip lash my skin open and as warm blood spilled out, the most incredible orgasm I’d ever had flooded through my body and I shot a gigantic load clear across the room.

And as I sank into unconsciousness, I was dimly aware that the blows hadn’t stopped—that He was still whipping me—but that the exquisite pain had been replaced by exquisite pleasure.

“I belong to you, Sir,” I whispered, and never doubted it again.

Under the Table

Dale Chase

Sitting in my truck on Outpost Drive in the Hollywood Hills, six-pack at my side, I finish my second beer and think about a third. Across the street is the house where I’m due for my first $300 gig. Like so many up here it’s a classic Spanish style, white stucco with red tiled roof, but this one’s got a blue Ferrari in the driveway. Probably costs more than I make in a year. My hand finds the tear in my vinyl seat and I run my fingers over the familiar ragged edge and laugh. It’s like being on a different planet. I open another beer.

Outpost Drive looks like it hasn’t been paved in years. Its cracks and patches give things an odd run-down look, which is crazy since it’s all money as soon as you start the climb off Hollywood Blvd. I was at a house up here once that was so big you could get lost trying to find the bathroom. Guy did so much coke he couldn’t perform, so we compromised with him sucking my dick and I got my money and he went back to his nose candy.

It suddenly occurs to me that it might be a problem coming home with so much cash this time. So far Linda hasn’t questioned anything, happy with the “OT.” She thinks I’m getting paid under the table for extra construction work but I don’t want to think about my wife just now so I look back over at the house, know I should get to it.

Three fucks, three different dicks up my butt. As I think about what it will be like my cock stirs so I push it all away, take a long swig of beer. I try to concentrate on something else but it doesn’t work because selling my ass hasn’t turned out to be as easy as I thought, not when I start anticipating things. I can almost smell the sex and hear that squishy fuck slap. I clench my muscle, shift my weight because deep down I know getting drilled up the ass ain’t all that bad.

I don’t know how many it is now but I do know it’s eight months and several thousand dollars and my butthole is ready for anything. I let the last guy shove a cucumber up me for an extra fifty. He did me in his kitchen, had a thing for veggies, put a carrot up himself while we fucked, then asked me to take the cuke. He came a second time, squirting jizz on my ass.

“The butthole can accommodate,” Mr. G had said way back when. He sure as hell wasn’t wrong. Mr. G—Frank Giordano—is my boss and the guy who got me into this whole scene. Friend of the family who hired me out of high school, he made me his apprentice and taught me everything I know about carpentry and a whole lot about life. He’s a cool guy, big, well built, strongest man I know with thick gray hair and rugged looks. He’s also got a personality where he gets along with everyone. Big Frank G. He’s always had a pat on the back for me, always tells me what a nice-looking kid I am.

I’d worked for him almost two years, had just turned twenty, when it all started. We’d finished the day’s work and he asked me to stay behind. I went into the trailer, he offered me a beer, and we talked about the job. He told me again how I was doing well, learning fast, and he told me about the next job he had lined up. By this time I’d finished my beer and then it happened. He went quiet and as I sat waiting, I saw his look had changed. “You’re a fine-looking fellow,” he began. “Bet you’ve got women coming after you all the time, making your wife jealous.”

“Not really.”

“Men then? You get looks from the gays?”

“Not that I notice.”

He nodded as if he’d seen them hovering. “Good-looking as you are, bound to stir up one or the other.”

I didn’t reply because I wasn’t sure where he was headed and then he said it. “Ah, what the hell, nothing ventured. You want a quick fifty bucks, let me fuck you.”

There it was, one of those life-changing moments when you’ve got about ten seconds to decide and you realize your answer will have years of fallout. He waited patiently and when I said nothing he unzipped his pants. He was at his desk, kicked back in his big chair, and he got out his cock like I’d already agreed. It was good sized and halfway along.

“You ever take a prick?” he asked.

I shook my head, aware I could flee, not sure why I hadn’t.

“The butthole can accommodate anything, but you’ve probably gotten up your wife that way, no? Fuck her up the ass? Fifty dollars if you let me do you here and now. I’ll take it slow, being it’s your cherry.”

I liked Mr. G, he’d been good to me, but this was something else. I thought of the $50, how Linda and I were always short of cash. It all ran through my mind as I watched him stroke his dick.

“Fifty bucks, you just drop ’em, bend over, and let me do you. It’ll be our little secret and some easy cash.”

He got up and came around the desk and I meant to stop him but there was so much to consider and then he was undoing my jeans and pushing them down. When he turned me around and bent me over the desk I started to speak but he pushed something wet up my butt and it took my breath away. “Grease the path,” he said.

This was the time to stop, to push his hand away, get the hell out, but I didn’t do any of that. I’d fallen into some in-between place, a cushiony spot where nothing has to be decided. I squirmed on the finger because it felt good and then he said, “Okay, I’m gonna add a second finger so just relax, let it in.”

I cringed when he went back in because it was too much, but he kept saying to breathe deeply, relax, think of the fifty, and he kept prodding me until I was really wet and saw it would work. “Now,” he said and his fingers left me.

I heard the condom wrapper and he said, “Just a sec,” and then I felt his knob pushing at me, which made me suck in a breath. Before I could say anything or even think anything he popped in. “Hey!” I yelled without thinking.

“Easy, easy.” He talked to me like you would to a skittish horse, while in the back of my mind it registered that I had a dick up my butt.

Concerns about what I was doing were quickly lost to the feel of what was happening inside me, his cock snaking up my ass and starting to thrust. I looked down at my hands gripping the desk, tried not to think about what we looked like. Easy, easy.

He was right about the butthole because mine sure as hell relaxed. Pretty soon he couldn’t hold back and started in hard, which caused me some pain, but this didn’t last. “Oh hell, I’m there,” was all he said before he slammed into me, letting go his load. At that second my mind kicked in big time and the thought of a dick spewing cum up my ass caused a wave to roll through me, disgust or something, not sure.

When he’d finished he pulled out and I turned to see him strip off the rubber. Panic set in then and I started scrambling to get my jeans up. “Hey, Chris, it’s okay, you know it’s okay. Don’t mean a thing a guy fucks another guy. We’re both married men, right? Just a way to get off.”

He paid me after he’d put away his dick. I didn’t say much, couldn’t, and I called Linda, told her I was going for beers with the guys, then went out alone and got drunk. I tried to fuck her when I got home but couldn’t.

Nothing was said when I got to work the next day. Mr. G was in a good mood, joking with the crew, and that made it easier. And I figured the sex was a one-time thing until the following week when he asked me offhandedly if I’d like to make some more extra money. When I didn’t reply he said, “Hang around after quitting time,” like I was a given. Was I?

I packed my tools slowly so everyone was gone before me and when I was done I went into the trailer. Nothing was said this time. The fifty was on the desk and Mr. G had his dick out, was already hard. I looked at the money and then back at him. “What about Mrs. G?” I asked.

“Aw, why you gotta bring her into it?” he moaned.

“She’s your wife. Isn’t doing her enough?”

He stroked his cock in silence for a few seconds, then let out a long sigh. “You don’t understand the ways of the world, Chris, you’re too young, but things change as you get older, you finally just want what you want. I don’t want to fuck a woman anymore, I want to fuck a boy, a young man. That’s just how it is.”

“And what does she do?”

“Her knitting, for chrissakes, or her shopping or any of that other shit women do. She sure as hell doesn’t let me put my dick up her butt.”

“Do you want to?”

He smiled. “No, I don’t. I haven’t touched her in over a year. If you want the truth, I jerk off in the bathroom and I’m hoping like hell to keep fucking you.”

So that’s what it was, a guy gets old, things change. I wasn’t sure I bought any of it and I guess Mr. G could see that because he leaned over, pushed the fifty toward me. “C’mon, Chris, I really need it. Ten minutes, what the hell.”

When I started to unzip my jeans he got up, came around the desk and we did without the preliminaries. He shoved some grease up me, put on a rubber, and did it and this time I didn’t go get drunk. I went home and fucked the hell out of Linda.

After about a month of Mr. G doing me once a week, he called me in and said he could steer me to some real money if I was interested. We were on a new job by then, an addition up on Mulholland that doubled the size of a house that was already huge. The new owner wanted a guest wing, home theater, game room, you name it. “He’s gay,” Mr. G said. “Name’s Brian.”

“So?” I could tell by his look what he had in mind but I wanted him to say it because I saw we were crossing over into something else and he should know I might not go along.

“So he’s noticed you, keeps mentioning how good you look, asking your circumstances, that kind of thing.”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe this. You’re pimping me?”

“Harsh word, Chris. Let’s just call it keeping the client happy, and we want to do that, don’t we?”

“We’re building him an addition. That should be enough.”

“Yes, but you have to look at a bigger picture. Referrals are my lifeblood. If a client likes our work he tells another, and that’s how we stay in business. So if we cater to a client’s special needs, provide a few extras, we get a better response.”

“And I’m an extra?”

He paused to let silence cut away the resistance, then got up, came around the desk, perched on the edge. “You let me, so why not him? A hundred per.”

“You quoted a price?”

“I know what you’re worth. You stay on the site tomorrow night, tell the wife it’s OT and you’re getting paid under the table. Take her the hundred dollars. She’ll love you.”

“Easy for you. I’m the one who has to bare his butt.”

“True, and I don’t mean to make like it’s no sacrifice on your part, but it’s ready cash for what, a few minutes? This guy wants to do you and hey, when I said you were married, he lit up. The fact that you’re straight is a big draw, ya know. C’mon now, half an hour. What do you say? You already lost your cherry so what’s the big deal? It’s just a fuck.”

I got Linda in the shower that night, stuck it up her ass before she could say no, gave her a good long one and shot an enormous load. Pissed her off which got me the silent treatment which was fine with me. Same thing next morning when I said I’d be working OT that night.

The owner wasn’t around the site that day but Mr. G told me he’d be along once the crew had left. I’d only seen this guy once, at a distance from inside the newly framed game room. I tried to recall his looks but all I got was blue polo and khakis. So I parked on a chaise and drowsed poolside until I heard footsteps. I purposely didn’t respond until he came up and nudged my foot. “Tony, right?” he said when I opened my eyes.

I realized Mr. G had given me a fake name. “Yeah,” I replied.

“Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Brian. I’ve seen you working, must say I’m impressed. Why don’t we go inside.”

He couldn’t have been more than forty and I wondered why he had to pay for it. Mr. G I understood, but with a place like this a guy could score with anybody.

“Beer?” he said from behind a marble-topped bar.

I nodded, let him pour it into a glass. He had one himself and we sat for a bit on bar stools, him asking silly questions about the work, then, like it was part of the job, getting out his wallet and putting a $100 bill on the bar. Not a word about what it got him.

He drained his beer, said to bring mine along and follow him. He led me to a huge bedroom all done in blue and gray, chrome and glass. On the wall above the bed was a big drawing of a naked man with a huge erection.

“It’s an Edward Vetter,” he said when I just stared. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

He was undressing as he spoke and when I finally looked at him he was naked, had a hand on his cock, working the thing. I saw it was about average, realizing only then that this had a new meaning. It would go up my butt easier than Mr. G’s.

“Undress,” he said. “Take it all off.”

As I did so he crawled onto the bed and stretched out on his back, still stroking his meat. He had a different look in his eye than Mr. G, like this was routine for him. Where Mr. G had that hurry, Brian’s expression was almost mellow. I also had to admit he was sexy as hell.

When I stood naked I waited for him to tell me how he wanted it but he just lay there working his cock and I didn’t know if he just wanted to look at me undressed or if he wanted some kind of rise out of me, if maybe he was waiting to see if he turned me on.

I hated all that shit, all the never looking at guys’ dicks at the gym when everybody knows everybody looks. I’ve seen guys soap themselves until they were stiff, then walk around like they dare you to notice. Always that awareness, that undercurrent, none of it acknowledged. I went along because that’s how it is, but if I was honest with myself I saw some guys were hot. And hey, we all did stuff as kids. When did we graduate from circle jerks to being afraid to look?

So here it was then, and it brought back all the locker rooms I’d ever been inside, all the dicks and asses I’d avoided. As Brian said “come here” I felt a kind of permission and it made me think how crazy this was, how totally surreal.

“Lie down,” he said and I stretched out beside him. He started to play with my tits, which annoyed the hell out of me, but I let him rub until they were hard. He then got his mouth on one and tried to suck it while I just waited. His dick pressed against my leg and when he had himself totally worked up he stopped to get condom and lube from the nightstand and get himself ready. Then he rolled me onto my stomach, pulled up my ass, and went in. “Shit yeah!” he yelled as he started to fuck me. “One sweet ass!” He went at it for a few minutes, then pulled out, flipped me over, pushed my legs up and shoved back in. He held my legs high so he could torque down and it put his dick about a mile up me or so it felt. I was being totally drilled and I lay looking to one side as I heard him come.

He screwed every bit of dick he could into me as he let go, grinding out the last until finally he went soft. Only then did he pull out and toss the rubber. I lowered my legs, lay quiet for a minute until I felt his hand on my stomach, which caused me to bolt. Out of the bed and on my feet, I found my jeans and started to dress.

“Hey, Tony, come on, don’t I get a little more for my money? Let me suck your dick. I can come again with some encouragement and you’ve got a sweet one, my friend. Don’t waste it on your wife. Let somebody who appreciates it have a taste.”

The familiar panic now had me and I said I had to leave. He worked himself and I saw his prick was coming along just like he said. If I didn’t get out of there he was going to make me do something I didn’t want to do. “I have to go,” I told him and I didn’t look back.

Now, sitting in my truck months later, I try to recall that panic but I can’t get a feel for how any of it could have scared me. I can’t believe having a guy suck my cock was such a big deal because once I finally let it happen, it was nothing. I’ve had a dozen blowjobs since then and I came every time because if there’s one thing guys know, it’s how to give head—unlike Linda, who acts like I’m making her eat shit.

So the deal for tonight is three guys for the evening, which means they can fuck the hell out of me, then fuck me again, suck my dick, my tits, whatever the hell they want to suck. As I finish the third beer, I unzip my jeans because now I’m hard. I get out my dick, let it stand tall while I look up the street. A car passes and I wonder if that guy wants to fuck too, if the whole goddamned world is taking it up the ass, but why the hell not? I take hold of my meat, give it a few strokes as I ease down in the seat and spread my legs. I could come now and I squirm as I think about what’s gonna be up my butt in about ten minutes, squeezing my muscle like it’s already in there. Maybe with three of them one’s gonna suck my dick while I take a cock. That would really be something. I blow out a long sigh, stuff my dick back in my jeans, zip up, and get out of the truck. I’m dirty from the job, can smell my own sweat, but I know they like that. I tote my boner across the street, ready for anything.