Rough Trade (16 page)

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.