Rough Trade (15 page)

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.

“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.